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depresssant · 2 months ago

Text

Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second.

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care.

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air.

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things.

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup.

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

TAGLIST :

@ilovemyhusbandnanami (so real), @missikkj, @ferakillia, @darlinqvi, @soriansick, @sleepydhanie, @h0rr0r-10ver-69 (love ur blog aesthetic bae), @anuttellaa (OK WINX 😽), @feral-childs-word (love the pfp), @shycreatorreview, @friesandfixations, @stuff6969fuckyou, @babiebubsie, @jsprien213, @cattioo, @cherrydaisymanic (cheetah?leopard? printttt 😍), @00hellohello00, @princessloveweird, @amber-content, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @f1lover4ever, @dreamsarenicer, @imaginarydreams, @solkara (love the calm aesthetic), @bobfood, @toast-on-dandelioms, @ijustfuckme, @cantfindmelol, @xx1shadow1xx, @azulawayne, @box-of-kinderjoy, @iamaunknownsecret, @missybabes, @phoenixgurl030, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @devils-blackrose, @arevvv, @freakthis, @yourhornysister, @kirahhhh, @perfectparadisegardener, @testishere, @spaceunicorn293, @vanilliona (love the pfpp), @uknowimdumb, @esposadomd, @dakotali, @lilyalone, @kore-of-the-underworld, @pix-stuff, @hellcatsworld, @chericia, @mspoisoncoil (love the bannnnerrr) , @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cheeseburgercasserole (love the aesthetic), @twismare

so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. making a taglistttttt. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

if anybody’s got requests about this series or in general, feel free to ask!!!

WAIT!! FOLLOW MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT : @depresssant. I JUS PUBLISHED A HISTORICAL YANDERE X READER STORY

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nc-vb · 2 years ago

Note

DONT FORGET ROT FOR THE MALE MOANING AUDIOS

My dear, I'm going to use this ask of yours as a catalyst... All of my personal favourite ASMRs, vids, etcetera... beneath the cut. Not all of them are only male moaning! Literally just all my faves I've collected LOL.

Links will not only be audios; a majority of them are videos.

Links will be from any of the following: Twitter, the Hub, Audiomack, Soundgasm, and likely other sites, so be prepared because they're not labeled, lol. And sorry if any of the links are repeated; my bad.

BUT YES, THE MALE MOANING AUDIOS UGH 😮‍💨

BLUE TEXT MEANS NEW LINKS HAVE BEEN ADDED.

Links with sparkles are my personal faves.

Edited, more added July 21, 2023

CerberosVA Now, if y'all like your man extremely vocal, if you like whimpering, or lowkey, you like the whole subby bf thing, PLEASE, THIS MAN, I cannot recommend his shit enough. He's on twt, the hub, probably the mack; please support his official work on Patreon, if you can.

x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x

softxwarm (hub) This guy does both asmr and stuff with his girlfriend, but his solo ASMRs are pretty coo'. I'll just share my top three since you can just sift through his videos, anyway.

one (video; solo) | two (video; solo) | three (video; solo)

moonxx911 (twt) ANYTHING by this man. I won't even both being specific; I listen to his shit on repeat, rotated.

Akiradubs (hub) He mostly does character dub audios, but he has some simpler ones that I enjoy, like this one.

one (audio, gn!; sub male, ig?)

RedactedASMR I haven't gotten so deep into the lore of it, but Redacted has a whole series of ASMRs that tell long ass stories, so if you have the time, I recommend searching him out. I believe most of them are on YouTube? Personally, Lasko is my favourite (he's so cute with the stuttering, ughhhh). I'm just going to link my personal Redacted playlist I've started, rather than link specific ones. You can find him on more platforms, but I don't think his n/sfw ASMRs are on Youtube... idk.

ncvb RedactedASMR playlist (the mack)

SeikyuuVA (hub; also on the mack) Look, Seikyuu isn't everyone's flavour... there's only a couple specific ones I enjoy, just because he really goes over the top with the sounds and aggression sometimes, LMAO, and it gives me second hand embarrassment...

Lxvesickk (twt) Just found him, hehe. Just listen…

WickLuvsU (twt) His audios are... immaculate.

X | X (play these both at the same time... you're welcome.)

Video Links, general

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 ✨ | 19 | 20

21 | 22 ✨ | 23 ✨ | 24 | 25 ✨ | 26 | 27 | 28 ✨ | 29 ✨| 30 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 ✨| 36 ✨| 37 | 38 | 39 ✨| 40 ✨

41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 (mmf✨)| 46 (aud✨)|

Video Links, mlm

I had to put these links in a separate post because I reached Tumblr's 100 link-per-post limit? Didn't know that was a thing. So, please find them here! There's about 80+ links.

Video Links, wlw

1 | 2 | 3

Characters Like, the fake dubs. I dunno what they're called.

Hanma Shuji (hub, audio; Akiradubs) Zhongli (hub, audio; Akiradubs) Akira/Joker (hub, audio; Seikyuu) Take this Audiomack link, too; it's my other personal playlist that has a shit ton of character ASMR dubs on it, and then some...

I'll have more to add along the way; keep an eye on the update date!

#twt links #asmr #n/sft asmr #n/sfw asmr #idk what else to tag this?#male moan #voice kink #✦ nice chats.#priya<333 #✦ nc vb.

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boyfiejay · 7 months ago

Text

I love my girlfriend

PAIRING : Enhypen hyung line x female Youtuber! Reader

GENRE : fluff, bullet point

Warning : curse words, me rizzing up the reader😔

Word Count : 0.9k overall

Author's Note : this was long overdue☝🏻

Heeseung ☆

you're one of those underrated artists, that are underrated due to one sole reason

it's better to gatekeep a talented artist

yk the way some fans get sad that their favourites are now on everyone's fyp

yeah your fandom in a nutshell

they also thirst over you non stop

I mean you are stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, enchanting

just date me pookie

you used to be a youtuber before the music career fyi

imagine your fans' dilemma (dimension?) when you say out of nowhere that you have a bf

‘guys, my boyfriend sent me this :D’

and it's a silly picture of two cats or smtg

like your fans are fighting a fucking war on twt

and you are like cuddling with hee, listening to unreleased songs

you have no clue of what's going on

meanwhile heeseung…

he's ready to fight the war

posts a picture of you kissing his cheek on your insta story

he makes sure that only 1/4th of his face is visible

to keep his identity anonymous yk

…

your fans find his acc in 15 mins

he panics definitely 😭

tells you his innuendo after you wake up

and you're just like

‘yeah ok, sure’

WHY ARE YOU SO CHILL??

your boyfriend is getting deep fried on twt and you're like ‘el oh el’

dw your fans mean no harm

after a while they're like

‘they're cute tgt ig 😒’

Jay ☆

you're like a cooking channel

STAY W ME IK IT SOUNDS BASIC

you're like a blogger who blew up one day

because you're just soso pretty😻

alright anyways, your channel is focused around learning to cook

it's so chaotic sometimes

bcz you don't know shit about cooking

sorry if you do, let's pretend you don't >.<!!

you have almost killed yourself a dozen times

at some point people are like

‘??? how is she alive’

all thanks to your almost professional chef boyfriend

but no one has to know that ;)

anyways on like a milestone or something, you decide to cook blindfolded

bae you can barely cook with eyes open

your followers are concerned bro

like their blood pressure is rising by the minute

and like a holy light in the midst of the darkness

Jay stepped in, to save you from killing yourself fr this time

Your fans are seriously jumping around, squealing bcz he's just so soft and gentle to you :(((

but then they snap out and pretend to be angry

and you're like ‘meet my boyfie :3’

jk your fans love you two

like almost obsessed

also they're always sliding in Jay's dms

like I get it mans fine af but he's also taken

and also absolutely whipped for you 🤭

it's your world and we're just living in it…

Jake ☆

you are a gamer/streamer

your whole fan base is delusional

like so delusional, there are like hundreds and thousands of accounts claiming to be your bf/gf

but the iconic one ‘ynsboyfie’ is everywhere

like that acc is the most iconic thing in your lore

they are always there, no news of yours goes past them

always donating in your streams

and one day…

you forget to log in your priv acc

so your official acc has the comment

‘babe, you're so sweet ☹️🩷’

replying to ‘YNSBOYFIE’

???

oh your fans are livid

jokingly ofc

or maybe not

everyone on twt is like

‘who is this bitch???’

everyone hoping for his downfall

then you drop his pic

THE SWITCH UP IS INSANE

‘oh, oh, he's fiiine😏’

like I can't blame them, that's jake

but still they're supposed to be your fans

fucking snitches

my bae, pookum shmookum I would never

your fans love him

but also bully him calling him a lewser

hes so down bad he had a fan page for you

i dont blame him, i too would fangirl over you 😼

Sunghoon ☆

you're like a fitness channel

like those ones that have insane challenges

and your famous in people who have no interest in working out too

your face reveal went so viral, almost every single person knew your face

also your workouts (even tho deadly) always work so fast

people are in love with your figure and just you in general

you also upload mini vlogs once in a while

in these vlogs people noticed someone always being around you and in the back of the frame

at first they were like

‘obsessed fan😨’

but then they saw you laughing along with him in another clip

from the small clips, people couldn't see his face (bcz it's blurred) but omg the figure

the biceps, the buff and tall guy immediately steals everyone hearts

it's obvious from the clips that you're close with him

so naturally you are asked who he is and you just laugh

???

people are losing their minds woman

and you're just like ‘hehe’

they continue seeing him in your vlogs and in one clip you could see him putting his hands on your waist while you squat

you have no reaction to that

but twt…

he's getting dragged even though half of the people have no clue what's going on

you decide to take matter in your hands

and post this

with the caption ‘he's my boyfriend everyone :3’

the internet breaks

Sunghoon doesn't do his face reveal for a long time js bcz he doesn't feel like it yk

but when he does

good lord…

your fans love him

they also love how he glares at people who look at you the wrong way

you never notice that for some reason

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david-talks-sw · 5 months ago

Text

The OTHER type of Star Wars fan

We've already covered (through this longer post and this addendum) that research shows George wasn't that involved or interested in the derivative material of the Star Wars franchise, also known as the Expanded Universe (EU). Aside from approving a few points, he let Howard Roffman and Lucasfilm Licensing handle it.

He is the first to say that he ain't as knowledgeable about Star Wars lore as we fans are.

Thing is... he's also not as passionate as we are.

Recently, I was watching some Q&A videos of George R.R. Martin, the author of Game of Thrones... and it occurred to me:

Martin is what most Star Wars fans wish Lucas was.

Think about it.

He's a talented writer who likes to focus on morally "gray" characters and complex political plotlines,

who created a series of novels for a mature audience in which his narrative merely asks questions and lets the reader draw their own conclusions,

knows and engages in the lore behind his creation and will often respond to those lore-heavy questions, and has gone on record stating that canon is the glue that holds a story together and keeps it coherent.

Contrast that with George "continuity is for wimps" Lucas, who:

Wrote a movie franchise which is also, partially, political... but he makes it for kids, and he's explicit about how this is thematically a clear-cut story about how the conflict of "good vs evil" is really about "compassion vs greed",

with flat dialogue, boring cinematography,

and whose approach to lore and canon can be summed up in his answer to how Anakin got his scar:

"I don't know. Ask Howard [Roffman]. That’s one of those things that happens in the novels between the movies. I just put it there. He has to explain how it got there. I think Anakin got it slipping in the bathtub, but of course, he's not going to tell anybody that." - Pablo Hidalgo’s set diary, August 2003

And as a Star Wars fan, I will admit that some of his casual retcons felt disrespectful, growing up.

"Boba Fett is NOT Mandalorian?!"

I had the same reaction when I saw an interview of Kathleen Kennedy stating she was a fan of Star Wars... from a filmmaking perspective. That seemed like such a finagling cop-out for me, at the time.

"Just say you're not a real fan, God!"

And it's easy to divide it in two camps, like that. You have 1) the real fans, who will delve into deep lore, and 2) the average moviegoer, also known as the "filthy casuals."

But looking back on it... holy shit, that is actually a completely valid way of being a Star Wars fan.

Yes, Star Wars is a transmedia franchise, it's books, it's video-games, it's deep lore, it's lightsabers and Jedi and Sith and bounty hunters and Ewoks and Jabba and High Republics and Tython and Revan etc.

But before it was that, Star Wars was a filmmaking revolution. A juggernaut of innovation for the silver screen that inspired most of today's filmmakers.

So, sure, George Lucas isn't an avid lore-loving Star Wars fan like you and me. But he is a movie fan.

"I'm not that passionate about this story. I like it, it's fun and I enjoy doing it. But it's definitely not my life. I'm a bigger movie fan than I am Star Wars fan. I like making movies. At the end of nine years of making Star Wars, I was not ready to continue it. I was completely burned out on it. I was more passionate about raising my kids than making movies and especially making Star Wars. So I made other kinds of movies and TV shows and advanced the technology I needed. It's not a matter of passion. My passion is for filmmaking. I'll go and do filmmaking that is easier to do, where you can realise your ideas better. And nine years is a big part of your life, and to commit to another nine years, I didn't wanna do that right away." - EMPIRE, 1999

And you can tell this, when you watch the Star Wars films.

There are honestly so many homages and interesting filmmaking techniques, peppered throughout the six films, which only a nerd for cinema history like George would know how to implement.

C3-PO being based on the droid from Metropolis (1927) is a perfect example of this.

And that's interesting.

Because there's essentially this entire other dimension to the films, where it's not just the story unfolding, but to filmmakers it's also a series of techniques that make them go "I wonder how they did that!" or homages that make them go "OH! I know where that's from!" like we do when an comics characters appears in live-action.

Here's other examples:

CINEMA HOMAGES

All of Star Wars is absolutely littered with homages to cinema history.

I mean, you may already know this, but Flash Gordon is what George originally wanted to shoot, but the copyright holders said they only wanted Fellini to direct it (ironically, George wasn't artsy-fart enough for them). So he decided to write Star Wars instead.

As such, the inspiration from Flash Gordon is also present visually and spiritually throughout the two trilogies.

"It was like a Republic serial, a 1930s-style matinee adventure. The idea was that you came in, saw Episode IV, had missed the first three episodes, and wouldn't get to see the rest of it." - Starlog Magazine #300, 2002

The dialogue that a lot of people refer to as "campy" and "flat" is actually a mix of George being an experimental filmmaker who doesn't give much of a fuck about dialogue (and is by his own admission, not the best at it)...

"I'd be the first person to say I can't write dialogue. My dialogue is very utilitarian and is designed to move things forward. I'm not Shakespeare. It's not designed to be poetic. It's not designed to have a clever turn of phrase. [...] I just wanted to get from point A to point B. This film doesn't lend itself to that sort of thing because it's not about snappy one-liners. I think that Lethal Weapon-style dialogue is overused, it's a necessary aspect of high action films where you have to have the smart retort. You have to say "I'll be back baby" and stuff. It's not my style. It takes away from the integrity of the movie. [...] I'm aware that dialogue isn't my strength. I use it as a device. I don't particularly like dialogue which is part of the problem." - EMPIRE, 1999

... which is convenient, because it helped him simulate the dialogue of 1930s matinee serials, such as Flash Gordon.

"Let’s face it, their dialogue in that scene is pretty corny. It is presented very honestly, it isn’t tongue in cheek at all, and it’s played to the hilt. But it is consistent, not only with the rest of the movie, but with the overall Star Wars style. Most people don’t understand the style of Star Wars. They don’t get that there is an underlying motif that is very much like a 1930s Western or Saturday matinee serial. It’s in the more romantic period of making movies and adventure films. And this film is even more of a melodrama than the others." - Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Attack of the Clones, 2002

But beyond that, literally it's everywhere.

The scene where Palpatine ascends to being Emperor as Anakin slaughters his political rivals parallels the final scene in The Godfather, where Michael becomes the Don while his goons do the same thing.

This video compiles all the tributes beautifully. Check it out.

youtube

Even The Clone Wars has whole episodes that are direct homages to cult classics. The Zillo Beast episode is a clear reference to Godzilla, the episode The Wrong Jedi is inspired by The Wrong Man, etc.

"CINEMA VÉRITÉ" CINEMATOGRAPHY

I've already written a whole post (one of my favourites) showing how his fascination with cinéma vérité documentaries is reflected in the cinematography of all six Star Wars films, and it's part of what makes the entire franchise feel so immersive.

You can check it out here:

KUROSAWA

We've gone over how he's a big fan of Akira Kurosawa, and how big an influence Hidden Fortress was on both the Star Wars trilogies...

... but so is the mise-en-scène and the way George approaches production design. The reason Star Wars feels so "lived in" is also a lesson George learned from Kurosawa, which is that by making everything just a bit off-kilter, a bit dirtied-up and imperfect...

... and yet keeping it all consistent, in a way, you manage to make the film feel grounded and immersive, no matter how alien it is.

"[It] may sound odd in a movie like this, but credibility and realism, even in the most unrealistic situation… to sorta create that sense of realism is very important to making the story work and making you feel like you’re actually in the environment that transports you and gives you the suspension of disbelief that you need in order to enjoy a movie. [...] Kurosawa used to call it “immaculate realism” which is to make it slightly off-kilter, slightly eccentric, like things are in real life. Even if it’s a very predictable situation, give it that little funny edge that takes it away from that and makes it realistic. And I had to struggle very hard, in the Star Wars films, to make them appear to be realistic, even though they’re totally fantasy." - The Phantom Menace, Commentary Track #2, 1999

POST-PRODUCTION & VFX

Another one of the more impressive aspects of the first Star Wars was the dogfights and the trench raid of the Death Star. The camera pans with the spaceship, the dynamism of the cuts. The space battles is what made George creat ILM in the first place.

He was determined to do the opposite of what 2001: A Space Odyssey had done with that opening scene where the space ship moves into frame slooooowly...

... so he gave the team a collection of WWII dogfight footage to give them ideas.

(note: this was the same approach he would take years later with Dave Filoni, when teaching the latter how to edit and craft dogfights in The Clone Wars)

The attempt to film the trench run eventually led to the creation of the first motion control camera dolly.

Best analogy I can think of, when describing George's approach to Star Wars, is the following:

An avant-garde esoteric contemporary artist - y'know, the type who puts a blue dot on a white canvas and calls it art - creates a comic.

Why? Because he wants to make this one art installment for a gallery exhibition. After that, he intends to move on to other things.

But the comic is really good! And like, its audience quickly expands beyond just gallery visitors, no, everyone likes it.

Suddenly, the comic develops a cult following, and the entirety of comic book geek culture has zeroed-in on the artist and they're all asking him to make more art! And he makes more! And more!

Then he stops for two decades, moves on to other art projects, raises his kids. Years later, he discovers new ways of drawing, and he's like "I'm making a Prequel to the comic, y'all wanna see it?"

Everyone cries out gleefully: "Oh God, yes! Finally! Show us!"

But this motherfucker makes a manga.

Why? Because he feels like it.

And of course he does, he's just creating art, right? He discovered the graphic tablet, so he's having fun with it, because he's always innovating and pushing the envelope with his art.

And the books are fine, by manga standards. But by comic book standards, they obviously suck! The comic book audience is mad. They wanted another comic book, not a manga. Why is it in black and white? Why is read right-to-left? This comic is crap!

(And arguably, they have a point... as a savvy businessman, he's made a whole lot of money off this comic, he built a media empire out of it, and instead of giving them what they want, he made something else)

But again... this guy isn't a comic book illustrator, and has been very explicit about saying this.

He's an artist who - for a very specific project - drew a comic.

Many things can be true at once:

the fact that these creative decisions didn't always hit their mark for the average moviegoer, or fans of "Star Wars, the space fantasy movies and expanded universe" (usually the lore-loving geeks like myself)...

... and the fact that they were meticulously and carefully crafted in a way that fans of "Star Wars, the revolutionary film" (aka fans of cinema and filmmaking) can appreciate.

There's a spectrum of the fandom, and there is a spectrum in the way we can appreciate Star Wars. Which kinda reminds me of that scene in Chef (2014) where Carl goes on a rant explaining the intricacies of making his chocolate lava cake to a food critic.

It's not just undercooked chocolate. It's molten.

Conversely:

It's not just flat, campy dialogue. It's an homage to the 1930s matinee serials à la Flash Gordon.

It's not just boring cinematography. It's a reproduction of cinéma vérité documentary-style camera work which effectively grounds the film.

Having considered all this, when I hear that Tony Gilroy or Kathleen Kennedy were more fans of Star Wars from a "cinema studies" side rather than the typical pop culture one, I think it's fair enough.

First of all, because like it or not, so was George. He clearly didn't give a single crap about the offshoot comics and books and their lore, besides signing off on minor plot points. He's not a "sci-fi movie director", he's an experimental filmmaker who set some of his movies in space.

But secondly, because - aside from children - it's clear the audience he was targeting was not the fans or the critics... but these very same cinema-savvy people, who get his references and homages, and who were inspired by the new filmmaking techniques he introduced.

#george lucas #star wars #long post #meta #cinema #kurosawa

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elodieunderglass · 5 months ago

Note

been watching dunmeshi and someone calling falin’s hair “light brown” has me thinking about your husband’s bread-colored hair, thank u Elodie

(In reference to deep lore: once upon a time in a post addition that went viral, I lost my husband in a French castle, and being largely incoherent at the best of times and having only a little French in my time of need, I asked for help finding him, describing him in French as “small, English, and with hair the colour of bread.” Over the years many people have admired my poetic incoherence in this, with me weakly defending myself that his hair is not obviously blonde or brown but kinda 🍞 , leavened by the fact that in a poll of several thousand people, nobody could decide what it was either.)

Here is a character attempting to find an equally lost person by describing the woman on the right (image description: a very young woman with blonde hair) as a human person with light brown hair, who might be 40 maybe.

In conclusion: hair color is a genuinely shit way of trying to find missing people. Even if you come up with a good description that makes sense to you, there’s no guarantee that anyone else will agree with it.

Therefore the best way of finding people in castles and so on, apart from shouting MARCO and trying to sift out all the POLOS, is to indicate their size with an expression of mute appeal, and select the one you like best from the selection of humans brought to you. That or maybe the color of their coat.

#bread coloured hair

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aylacavebear · 12 days ago

Text

Take Me Home Tonight

You kept to yourself; you had to, given what you were. It wasn’t that being a hunter meant you had to isolate yourself. It was that being a Touched, you had to keep yourself safe. There was a lot of lore about those who were “touched by the Gods,” and most of it wasn’t flattering. You’d been lucky, though, as you looked completely human. One problem: you were a lot like a cat, in too many ways, including purring. The other problem was that your blood somehow healed you.

Dean x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 10,730

Warnings: SMUT! MDNI, Angst, some Fluff, Plot - if you squint.

AN: So, this was only supposed to be a one-shot, but it will have a part 2. As soon as I have it finished, I'll post it for everyone. This is to celebrate having 300 followers. All of you are amazing. Thank you for loving my writings as much as I do. I don't write smut often, so please be gentle. I do love feedback, though. :) <3 Enjoy. This is based on the song - Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money.

----------------------------------------- The bar was dimly lit as you sat near the back, sipping your fifth whiskey. The hunt had been successful, but you hadn’t been able to save the young woman before the vampire had given you that evil smile and drained her before you could move. So, here you were, drinking away your guilt at not anticipating the vampire’s move.

After waiving down the waitress for a refill, you sighed and leaned back in your seat, having tuned out the sounds of the bar. The hunt had been playing on repeat in your thoughts since decapitating the vampire, trying to figure out if you could have changed anything to save her. You were always hard on yourself when you couldn’t save someone.

You didn’t hear the bell over the door, or notice the two men who walked in and sat at the bar. No. Your focus was somewhere else entirely. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table, one hand around your glass, your gaze at the amber liquid inside.

“I hate vampires,” you whispered to yourself.

I should head back to Bobby’s.

You knew you needed some downtime, having been on the road for months, even with staying in motels along the way. A classic rock song pulled you from your thoughts, hearing the familiar tune now playing in the background. You noticed that there were a few more customers in the bar as you tapped your foot to the familiar beat.

Typically, you would stay in your head after the hunt you’d had, but with the alcohol coursing through your system, you wanted to unwind. You downed the last of your drink before heading over to the jukebox. The whiskey didn’t even burn anymore, but you loved the flavor. Humming to yourself, you looked over the songs available. Take Me Home Tonight it is.

A relaxed smile found your lips as you slipped the quarters in the slots and made your selection. You didn’t really pay attention to the other customers. The song wasn’t really for them. It was for you, and anyone bold enough to approach you. You were a loner, being what you were. But sometimes, you needed the comfort of someone’s arms, even if it was only for one night.

You turned so you were partially leaning against the jukebox, swaying lightly to the music as the song played. With your eyes closed, enjoying how the rhythm felt through your body, you quietly sang along with the words.

His eyes had been on you only moments after he and his brother had entered the bar. Something about you pulled at him in a way he’d never felt with another woman. It was so bad that Sam had to order their drinks before smacking Dean on the shoulder.

“Dude. What the hell?” Sam asked, his brows furrowed in confusion and mild frustration, wondering what the hell had completely distracted him.

Dean took a deep breath, barely unable to look away from you. “Sorry, distracted.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Sam chuckled, taking a sip of the beer the bartender had just set down. “So, what’s captivated your attention so intently that I had to order our drinks?”

Dean wasn’t the type to get swept away by a woman’s appearance. He was the confident one, suave, and all the charm in the world. But something about you, beyond your looks, had his complete attention. “Chick over at the jukebox,” Dean finally answered his brother, motioning with a nod in your direction.

Sam’s gaze went to where Dean had motioned, taking note of the woman swaying to the music: you. Your long hair was down, some over your shoulders, framing your face beautifully. The way your lips occasionally mouthed a few words of the song as it played. Sam shook his head, finding his brother’s appetite for women utterly amusing. He definitely knew how to pick them.

Before Sam could say anything, though, Dean had downed his whiskey and was walking toward you. Sam chuckled and shook his head again, picking up his beer to watch how things unfolded. Dean was typically the confident one, all charm and a cocky attitude to boot. Most women practically fell at his feet if he smirked just right. Something about you just felt different, and he hadn’t even spoken to you yet.

You smelled his scent before he even got close. The whiskey he’d just drank, the leather of a jacket he probably wore often, a hint of mint that made you wonder if it was toothpaste or gum, and a musk that was all him, intoxicating. Quietly singing along with the song, you opened your eyes, wanting to locate the source of that delectable scent.

Now, you were used to men being interested in you; their looks ranged across the board, but never in your life had a man who looked like some Greek God ever noticed you. His green eyes were piercing as they blatantly roamed over your body as it swayed to the rhythm of the song you’d put on. The closer he got, the heavier your breathing became. “So, was that an invitation, or do you just like this song?” he asked, his voice like a seductive melody to your ears.

But your confidence didn’t waiver, a smirk playing at your lips. “Both,” you replied, leaning against the jukebox, looking up at the handsome stranger now standing less than a foot from you. You rested your hands on the jukebox, mainly to help keep them to yourself, itching to trace every inch of this man before you.

Dean licked his lips, sucking his bottom one between his teeth as his eyes roamed over your body, taking note of every curve before his eyes met yours again. You were gorgeous. But there was a mystery to you, a look in your eyes that had him wanting more than just to get his hands on you.

“Well, Sweetheart. We can have a few drinks or just get out of here. Up to you,” The words rolled off his tongue like silk, smooth and deep, shooting warmth directly to your core.

You tilted your head a bit, looking up at him; that smirk that had been playing at your lips had finally claimed them. I must have done something right in a prior lifetime. The thought almost made you chuckle. You tried to keep your eyes on his, beautiful emerald-green orbs that were devouring you where you stood, but when he licked his lips again, the movement pulled your attention. The moment your lips parted, letting out a breath, Dean made his move. He’d been reading people most of his life, and it was clear you wanted him as badly as he wanted you. He had to taste you, and god, did you taste good. Your lips were soft, inviting, and moved against his in a way he wasn’t used to. You hooked your fingers in his belt loops and pulled his hips against yours, making him groan quietly into the kiss.

His lips were plump, succulent, and felt like pillows as they moved against your own. You teased his with your tongue, a quick movement, testing the waters, but you knew you’d be leaving with him. You felt his hands on your hips tighten when you teased his lips, causing you to smirk against his lips.

“Oh, Sweetheart, I think we should take this somewhere a little more private,” he whispered against your lips, his body pressed against yours, his need only growing when you didn’t get shy.

You chuckled, pulling only back far enough to look into his eyes. “My place or yours?” you asked, a mischievous smirk on your lips, but you let your hands roam across his chest. God, those muscles. It practically made you purr, and you knew you had to keep that in check, no matter what this man did to you.

“Mine,” Dean told you in a low, almost commanding tone, making you chuckle a little. This is going to be fun.

“Alright,” you replied nonchalantly, but the smirk on your lips told Dean he was in for a world of surprises with you. And he was looking forward to it. He’d only come across a handful of women, if that, who were confident like you and didn’t get shy around him. “After you,” he gestured, even almost bowing his head a little as his other hand found the small of your back.

From the bar, Sam laughed before turning away and focusing on his beer. He knew he should have gotten his own room but figured after a couple of hours, the two of you should be asleep. Then, he could sneak inside and get some much-needed shut-eye. For now, he’d hang out at the bar, nursing beer until then.

The motel where both of you were staying was only a couple of blocks away, so he walked you there. You hadn’t told him where you were staying, and now, you’d keep it that way once you saw where he was leading you. You didn’t even know his name and hadn’t given him yours. Dean’s hand was on your lower back most of the walk, drifting down occasionally to grab your ass, feeling the slight plumpness of it in his hand.

He wanted to feel every inch of you, but he wasn’t going to rush this. No. You were different. He was going to take his time with you, savor every second, memorize every curve, and taste every piece of your flesh you’d let him. The thought of it alone made his cock twitch in the confines of his jeans.

Your anticipation was building with each step, each breath, and every heartbeat. He didn’t even fumble with the key to his door, like he’d done this numerous times before. You loved his confidence, but you were going to have him at your mercy soon. He gestured for you to enter before he followed you inside, closing the door behind him. The room looked similar to yours, only slightly larger, with two beds. You wondered briefly who he might be bunking with, although you knew it wasn’t a woman, being able to taste the scents with each breath you took. It also looked as though he and whoever else was with him weren’t staying long, as only two small duffle bags were in the room, unopened.

Dean came up behind you, one hand on your hip, the other gently moving your hair to expose your neck. He leaned down as his hand slid tantalizingly slow down your side, resting on your hip. “I’m Dean, so you know what name to yell when I make you come undone,” he whispered before placing those deliciously plump lips on your neck.

You groaned a little, leaning your head back as your hands rested over his. His lips left a trail of hot, slow kisses along your exposed skin. The man knew what he was doing, and that only fueled the fire growing within you. For a bit, you let him tease you, but the moment his fingers went to slip under your shirt, you stopped him and turned in his arms. With a mischievous smirk, you looked up at him before biting your bottom lip, taking a step back, and taking all of him in. Even in the dim lighting of the motel room, he looked intimidating, or at least would have to someone who was normal. You slipped off your shoes with your feet before moving closer to him, standing on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his. Before he could put his arms around you, you began slipping off his flannel, effectively stopping him. Hearing his annoyed groan made you smirk against his lips.

He tried to discard the flannel quickly, but you had begun kissing down his jawline and then along his neck, sending shivers down his body. “I’m Y/N, so you know what name to moan when I make you come undone,” you whispered seductively before nibbling on his earlobe, pulling a guttural growl from him.

When you spoke, his cock twitched in his pants again, and he wasn’t sure how much patience he’d have at this rate. You did things to his body he wasn’t used to, and he wanted more, needed more. Just as you stood flat on your feet again, he managed to get his flannel off, pulling an amused chuckle out of you. Although, you weren’t going to give him a moment to catch his breath, slipping your hands under the hem of his shirt.

Your hands moved slowly over every muscle, every curve, as his hands balled into fists at his sides, trying to keep himself from throwing you down on the bed. God, your touch was intense, both soft but calculated. He leaned down, catching your lips in a quick kiss, his tongue darting out to tease you. Your eyes never left his, which only fueled the fire within both of you further.

Dean loved how you had leaned into the kiss, and had leaned closer when he pulled away. He smirked before cupping your face with both his hands and kissing you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as your hands sent shivers and heat through his body as they explored his chest and sides. Your body instinctively pressed closer to his, needing to feel so much more of him.

The sounds of the outside world faded as you slowly lifted his shirt without breaking the kiss until he had no choice but to move and remove it. That teasing smirk found your lips again before you bit your bottom one, taking in his muscular form. God, he could probably hold me up like I weighed nothing at all. The thought sent warmth through you, and a small groan slipped past your lips. But you also knew that whatever he did for a living is what had sculpted him into the man that stood before you.

When you saw his tattoo, you paused for only half a second, wondering if he was a hunter. That could be bad in the long run, but you quickly pushed the worry aside. Tonight wasn’t about worrying about that. You’d be gone before he woke, and all he had was your first name. Plus, you had enough alcohol in your system that you didn’t really care at the moment. You’d never see him after this, right?

“My turn,” he smirked, his tone low, husky, almost commanding.

You just gave him that teasing smirk, and before he could even reach for your shirt, your lips were on his chest, leaving a trail of fire along his skin. Dean bit his bottom lip as his hands found your hips, gripping them tightly. He wasn’t used to not being able to control himself, and you were pushing him far past any level of restraint he was used to with a woman. Dean would have been lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every second of it.

He sucked in a breath, feeling your hands tease his skin again in a feather-light dance along his sides as his hands quickly found yours, stopping them in their tracks. “Careful, Sweetheart. I’m ticklish.” he breathed out. Even if you hadn’t tickled him, you’d touched him in a way he wasn’t used to. There was a tenderness in your touch that made his breath hitch in his chest, and it scared the shit out of him.

“I’ll remember that,” you replied softly, leaning closer to leave a trail of eclectic kisses along his chest.

It took everything in Dean to ignore the strain in his jeans or how your lips felt on his skin. Then there was your hands as they traced every muscle, every curve of his exposed body. All of it was making it nearly impossible to think straight. God and the way your hot breath sent goosebumps down his body was enough to drive him almost mad.

Dean finally managed to slip his hands under your shirt, your skin smooth under his calloused hands, and he felt you moan against his chest. It brought that pleased smirk to his lips when he felt your fingernails press against the middle of his back. Slowly, he slipped your shirt up, causing you to move your hands off of him, giving him the moment he needed to catch his breath as he slipped your shirt off.

You made a mental note of where it landed, even in your passion-induced state. The way his eyes raked over your exposed torso made your breath ragged. It was almost as if you could feel his gaze literally devouring you as you looked into his eyes.

“Beautiful…” he breathed out before capturing your lips in another searing kiss, which you reciprocated as your fingers fiddled with his belt. Luckily, it was a simple leather belt that was easy to get undone.

His hands found your hips, but only briefly before one of his hands made quick work of the button just as you had gotten his belt loose. It was almost a race to see who could be faster, and so far, you were winning. You didn’t even break the kiss as you popped the button on his jeans open, cupping his already hard cock through the denim as your other hand found his zipper.

You smirked into the kiss as he groaned, his hips moving into your touch, needing far more than you were giving him. All he could do was pull you flush against him as you moaned quietly. Just as you felt his hands attempt to tighten on your sides, you slipped down as you slid his jeans to his ankles, looking up at him as you knelt at his feet through your lashes.

Dean let out a ragged breath, wondering just how much longer he’d be able to take his time with you. You had him on the verge of picking you up and pinning you against the wall, an almost desperate need to be buried deep inside you. When that teasing smirk found your lips again, he bit his lower lip as he made quick work of his boots, then kicked off his jeans.

You reached for his boxers, but he was quicker, grabbing both your hands and pinning them behind your back. Then, as he smirked against your lips, he slipped both your wrists into one of his hands, giving him a free hand to tease you with. He chuckled, seeing the glare in your eyes. It wasn’t fair, and he knew it, but he needed you to stop touching him so he could taste you the way he wanted to.

Now that he had you, his lips moved from yours, along your jawline and down your neck as your head tilted back, giving him more access. Electricity ran along your nerves everywhere his lips ventured while his hand slid inside the front of your jeans, causing you to inhale deeply out of surprise and how good it felt. Dean moaned against your pulse point, feeling just how wet you were while his fingers slid along your folds before he removed them from your jeans.

“So wet already, Sweetheart?” he whispered in a low, teasing tone before he sucked your juices from his fingers. “Delicious.”

Your plans sort of flew out the window the moment he had your hands pinned, but the way he teased your body was worth it. Electricity shot through all your nerves with every touch of his hands. His movements weren’t rushed, like he was memorizing every curve of your body, even if your jeans were getting in the way.

With a ragged breath, his lips made their way along your collarbone before dipping even lower, teasing the area just above your breasts. The quiet moans that left your lips were like music to his ears. The way he held you arched your back toward him, making it almost impossible to move, but it was delectable instead of confining.

As his hand cupped your breast, his mouth found your nipple, pulling the most sinful sounds from you, and it was nearly impossible to be quiet. The way his tongue moved over and around your nipple, finding the most sensitive spots, then teasing them as he sucked harder. Your breathing became heavy, your body now craving his touch, needing to feel his skin on yours, but you needed to feel him tense under your touch, not the other way around, no matter how good it felt.

You took a deep breath the moment his mouth left your nipple, now getting hard due to the dampness from his mouth and the slight chill in his motel room. In one swift, quick motion before his lips could claim yours again, you turned, causing him to release your wrists. Before he could even get his hands on you again, you slipped behind him, making him turn.

The tension in the room was palpable. Electricity crackled in the air between the two of you. A teasing smirk toyed with your lips as you looked into his eyes. Those wonderful emerald eyes you would always remember. Placing your hand on his chest, you gently pushed against his chest, and he complied. Dean’s mind was racing at how your confidence and need to be in control never completely waivered, even when he had you at his mercy. The way you’d gotten out of his grip would have made him question you in an entirely different way if circumstances were different and he didn’t need to feel your body under his.

As his legs bumped into the edge of one of the beds, he sat down, not even caring if it was his or Sam’s, but his eyes never left yours. He let you lay him back, your movements slow, teasingly slow, as you ran your hands over his chest, leaving almost featherlight kisses in their wake. Your fingers teased the waistband of his boxers, his head snapping up to watch you as he propped himself up on his elbows, somewhat amused.

It wasn’t often a woman took control with the confidence you showed. He wanted to watch you, but your hand brushed over the bulge in his boxers. His head fell back as a low, almost growl bubbled up from his chest. The warmth of your hand made his cock twitch, slightly painfully in the confines of his boxers.

The way his muscles flexed under your touch quickened your breath, but you were going to take your time, memorize every curve, every muscle, every sound he made. Feeling the size of him, even through the fabric, made you lick your lips, slowly slipping his boxers down, leaving him naked before you. For a moment, you just stood there, staring down at him with your lips parted. He looked up at you when you hadn’t returned to touching him, that cocky smirk on his lips again, making you want to kiss it off of him.

“Like what you see, Sweetheart,” his honeyed words with his cocky attitude made your body quiver with need. The man was gorgeous, and he knew it. So, you just smirked before slipping your jeans off, wearing nothing underneath, now naked as well.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you sassed teasingly, seeing the hunger intensify in his eyes as his cock twitched.

Before he could say a word, you knelt between his legs. The way your hand felt soft around his shaft had him clenching the blankets of the bed. He still had most of his control at the moment, though, keeping himself from just taking over and pinning you to the mattress so he could taste every inch of you. However, he couldn’t stop the moan that came out when he felt your warm breath on the head of his cock.

The sound that came from him went straight to your core, your walls clenching around nothing. You wondered how much of him you’d be able to take in your mouth, but you were up for the challenge, having figured out how not to gag. For a moment, you let your warm breath fan over the tip of his cock before placing soft, slow kisses along his shaft, holding the base firmly but gently with your hand. His entire body was tense as the pleasure coursed through every part of him at your ministrations. Your lips were soft, your grip firm but gentle, and your confidence in what you were doing was nearly too much for him to keep from taking over. The moment you took him into your mouth, though, his hand went to your hair, gripping it with practiced ease.

You hummed, sending a shiver down his body as he twitched in your mouth, indicating you were both enjoying every moment. Slowly, you began moving your mouth on him, up, then down, sucking him like a straw in a milkshake and letting your tongue conform to his shape, sliding along his shaft. Dean did his best to keep himself from getting lost in the feeling, but the skill of your mouth was fogging his mind. His grip in your hair tightened, and when your lips reached the tip, he encouraged you to move faster by pressing a little against your head. The way he tasted on your tongue had your body on fire, needing to feel him inside you, but you were enjoying him being at your mercy.

“Y/N…” he moaned quietly, and you could hear the plea in his undertone, almost begging for you to speed up.

You smirked internally, focusing on his body, his moans, his hand in your hair, and his cock in your mouth. Since his request had been so nice, you did speed up, teasing the tip with a couple motions before sliding back down, almost to the base. His hips instinctively thrust gently upward, pressing the tip of his cock down your throat. You didn’t gag but stopped your movements, then hummed again.

Dean had no choice, he had to pull your mouth off of him, or he was going to cum right then and there. He was breathing heavily as he sat up, still holding onto your hair. When he saw a smirk on your lips, though, he almost growled, looking down at you between his legs. No woman had gotten him that close, that fast before.

“My turn,” he told you with a look that said you were in for more than you had prepared yourself for. He still hadn’t let go of your hair, and you wondered just how much you could push him before he pinned you and fucked you into the mattress.

“What? Too much?” you asked, feigned coyness lacing your words. You knew exactly what you’d done and how close you had him.

He just groaned, his gaze nothing but lust as he gently lifted you closer to his face. “Sweetheart, don’t make me cuff you to the bed,” he warned in a low, seductive tone, but you had a feeling he’d actually do it. That only made your legs quiver slightly as another wave of heat washed through you.

Dean truly debated cuffing you to the bed. Your boldness and feigned coyness reminding him not to underestimate you. A devilish smirk found his lips as his grip loosened in your hair. “My turn,” he told you again, and you didn’t miss the glint of excitement in his eyes as he gently helped you stand with him.

His cock pressed against your lower abdomen, and you wanted so badly to purr at the feeling and the thoughts that played through your mind. God, I can’t. He’ll ask too many questions. So, you focused on his eyes, taking in the lust and desire in his expression. Your hands reached out to touch his chest, but he quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrists before they could make contact with his skin.

So, you gave him a pout, hoping it’d work and he’d let you continue enjoying his body. “I will cuff you,” he warned in a low growl. Damnit! “But, how is that fair?” you asked, still pouting.

In one swift motion, Dean had you on the bed on your back, making you squeal in surprise. However, as you giggled and attempted to sit up, he had already found his jeans and the cuffs in his back pocket. Your eyes went wide when he climbed on top of you, only able to pay attention to how he felt over you as he cuffed your wrists to the headboard.

With a smirk, his eyes never left yours. God, you looked delicious under him, and he was going to take his time. “I warned you, Sweetheart,” he whispered before letting his fingers move slowly down your arms, feeling the softness of your skin.

You glared at him, tugging against the cuffs as you looked up at them. You heard him chuckle, a deep sound rumbling from his chest at your predicament. When your eyes met his again, he’d moved off of you, licking his lips and debating where he wanted to start first. In all honesty, you hadn’t exactly given him another option. If he hadn’t cuffed you, he wouldn’t be able to take his time, and he desperately wanted to hear and see you come completely undone, by him.

Dean hadn’t decided yet if he’d uncuff you. Seeing the glare in your eyes only fueled the fire you’d lit within him back at the bar. He leaned down, only a sliver of space between your lips, that pleased smirk on his face again. You could feel his warm breath mixing with yours as your heart rate picked up again. Most of the men you’d been with couldn’t please you, not the way you needed.

He didn’t kiss you, no. Instead, his hands began slowly exploring your curves as his lips trailed along your jaw, then slowly down your neck. You held back your moans at his touch. It felt like your skin was on fire. “Tease,” you mumbled grumpily, but it was only to annoy him, make him touch you where you needed him to.

All he did was chuckle darkly against your pulse point, sucking softly at first, then harder as one of his hands slid up your side, cupping your breast. You bit your bottom lip, trying not to move into his touch. Part of you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing to you, but when his fingers tweaked your nipple just the right way, a moan slipped past your lips.

“That’s what I thought,” he stated, his tone low, gruff, and almost smug.

You took a deep inhale of breath when you felt his lips leaving a hot trail over your collarbone, along your throat, and then down your chest as you tried not to squirm beneath him. For a brief moment, you wondered how many women he had been with, as he clearly knew what he was doing to get the sounds he was after. Or, perhaps, he was just more perceptive than most men. Either way, you lost your train of thought when his mouth latched onto your nipple, teasing it just right with his tongue.

There was no keeping the moan from coming out, and you felt him smirk against your skin as your back arched, needing more. Dean took one breast in each hand, kneading them while his fingers teased the nipple his mouth wasn’t enjoying. God, you felt amazing under him, and the sounds you made had his cock throbbing with need. All he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside you, but not before he tasted your sweetness. You struggled against the cuffs restraining you, wanting to dig your nails into his skin, feel the strength of his muscles under your touch. It was infuriating and intoxicating, all at the same time being unable to touch him as he touched and teased you in ways no man had before. When he felt he’d tasted your nipple enough, he moved to the other one, getting lost in the sounds you tried not to make.

That coil began tightening, your walls clenching around nothing. You needed more. God, you needed more. You tried rubbing your thighs together, since he was straddling you, holding you in place beneath him, but it wasn’t enough.

Dean chuckled, feeling your movements, then released your nipple with a pop while his fingers teased both your nipples, making you gasp. Just the right amount of pressure in all the right places. He was observant; hunting had taught him that, and right now, he was reading you like an open book. He knew what you wanted, needed. However, he was enjoying the feel of you, the taste of you, and the sounds he could pull from you. When he finally began sliding his hands down your sides, you attempted to steady your breathing, his lips leaving searing kisses along your skin. Whenever he found one of your spots, he gave it more attention, sucking hickeys into your skin. He wanted you to remember tonight for days to come, longer if possible.

He didn’t go straight to where you wanted him. Instead, he trailed kisses to just above your mound, then slowly down your thigh, lifting your leg so that your foot was over his shoulder. The little whimpers that left your lips the further down your leg he got only made his cock twitch more. The sounds you made were like a sweet melody, and he could listen to it for hours.

It was like he had known how close he had gotten you, just from teasing your nipples, choosing to keep you needy. You were seriously considering using your retractable claws to get out of the cuffs but knew better; no matter how badly you needed to fuck him, you couldn’t do that. As your breathing was slowly evening out, he was already making his way up your other leg, keeping the first over his shoulder. Dean left kisses along your inner thigh, sucking in places that made you squirm again. He found it interesting that you hadn’t had a spot near your ankle, like most women did, but it didn’t deter him. He’d just find others, and that was precisely what he was doing. Carefully, he nestled himself between your legs but chose to slide his right arm over your thigh, effectively pinning your lower half. You looked down at him, those emerald orbs filled with lust as they devoured you, and goosebumps danced down your body. For a moment, neither of you moved, the moment frozen as your lips parted at the sight. He was intoxicating, but there was something more there, and it scared you. So you quickly pushed that feeling away as his head dipped down, trailing his tongue over your slick folds.

Instinctively, your hips tried to move into the sensation, needing more, but he held you firmly in place. He hummed in pleasure. You tasted divine. Dean could have stayed there for hours, just tasting you. Something about you was different, in the most delicious ways. The moment his tongue found your clit, your mind no longer worked. A jolt of pleasure shot through your body as your walls clenched around nothing.

“Dean...” you moaned out quietly, almost pleading for more.

His other hand left featherlight touches along your inner thigh, moving slowly toward where you needed him. Your body shifted and moved against his hold, but you were unable to make him go any faster than he wanted to. Dean felt like he was in heaven as he sucked your clit between his lips, slowly teasing the bundle of nerves with his tongue, noting what made you try to move, what made you try to keep quiet, and what made your body tremble under his hold. His fingers found your entrance, slipping two inside. You couldn’t stop the low growl of pleasure that rumbled up from deep in your chest. God, please don’t let him notice, you mentally prayed, knowing it was far more animalistic than you had wanted it to come out.

In any other circumstance, Dean would have questioned you, but the sound made his cock not only twitch but throb as precum dripped from the tip. The sound had sent a rush through his body, which he wasn’t prepared for, and he thought he might come right then and there. That coil had quickly tightened within your abdomen; your muscles tensed as your walls squeezed his fingers. The heat that pulsed through your body had you almost panting. Dean reached his other hand up, his fingers tweaking your nipple as he moved his fingers in and out of you, making sure to tease that spot deep inside with every thrust. He sucked your clit a little harder, finding just the right spot with his tongue.

You’d never screamed any man’s name before, but at that moment, when your orgasm pulsed through your body in waves, Dean’s name reverberated off the walls of his motel room. Hell, you swore that you saw stars when it hit you, but you didn’t have time to think as he continued, helping you ride out every second of the pleasure. What neither of you expected was the moment you almost completely came down, you began building towards another one.

It surprised him. Most women he had to coax more out of. If Dean had been thinking clearly, he probably could have formulated questions, but you were delicious. He sped up his movements with his tongue as he thrust his fingers faster, harder, teasing the sensitive spot inside you. You were nothing more than a panting, moaning mess when he didn’t stop, pulling against the cuffs that kept your upper half in place while his arm kept your lower half in place.

No man had ever played your body like he was. You typically had to take care of yourself after you would sneak out and back to your motel room. Dean didn’t give you much time to think about that as your second orgasm crashed through you. He chuckled when you couldn’t make a single coherent word as he rode you through the pleasure. You were groaning with need as your body tried to move when he slowly pulled his fingers from your fluttering walls and his mouth from your clit. He sucked his fingers clean, not letting his mind wander to things it shouldn’t. Dean used the corner of the bedding to wipe your juices from his chin and mouth before climbing on top of you, caging you in.

All you could do was meet his eyes, your hips moving seductively against his, needing him to fuck you. “I’m going to uncuff you. Behave yourself,” he told you with a look that sent a tantalizing shiver down your body.

You watched him retrieve the keys, then climb over you again, his gaze never leaving yours, even as he unlocked the cuffs. Slowly, you pulled yours down, letting them rest on his shoulders, almost purring at his muscular frame. Dear God, don’t let me purr. He had the cuffs and keys on the nightstand in seconds before his lips were on yours again, needy, desperate, but also almost intimate.

Every time your hips moved against his, rubbing his cock along your wet folds and clit, he groaned, his hips instinctively moving with you. He reached between your bodies, lining himself up with your entrance, never breaking the kiss. Dean had planned to go slowly, give you time to adjust to his size, but you were having none of that.

You wrapped your legs around the backs of his thighs, bucked your hips, and pulled him into you, making the both of you moan with how good it felt. Dean bit down on your shoulder when you rolled your hips, pushing him even deeper into the warmth of your fluttering walls.

“If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to fuck you,” you whispered before nibbling on his earlobe, pulling another groan from him as he snapped his hips hard.

Dean shifted so that he was more on his knees, your legs around his waist, and now, his hands found your hips. The smirk on your lips had him committing the moment to memory. “I’ll fuck you, but it’ll be the way I want to,” he told you in that same commanding tone.

With that, he slowly withdrew till only the head of his cock was inside you, pausing for a brief moment as the pout began forming on your lips. Then, he slammed into you, making your back arch off the bed. Dean’s smirk turned devilish as he did it again, watching your face contort from an almost pout to sheer pleasure.

The way he held your hips kept you from moving with him, and it was driving you insane. His slow withdrawal was an utter tease. Then the way he slammed back into you and hit that spot inside while also hitting your clit was keeping you close without pushing you further. It was delightfully infuriating and had you attempting to squirm for more.

However, the moment he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, you used the moment to roll the two of you so you were on top. If the action hadn’t sent a thrill through his body, he would have questioned it. Were your walls not fluttering around his cock as it twitched inside you, he would have questioned you.

“I said if you didn’t fuck me, I was going to fuck you,” you told him, grabbing the headboard as you ground against him, rolling your hips.

Dean’s head went back into the pillow while his hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. Then, when you began moving, rolling your hips like you were, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. However, he also knew you were close and bucked his hips, keeping in sync with your movements.

You leaned down, getting a better angle, but the moment you did, his mouth found your nipple, latching on as the most sinful sounds left your lips. He moved your hips, grinding you against him as your walls gripped his cock just before your orgasm crashed through your body. When you didn’t stop moving, riding out the waves of pleasure and screaming his name, your name left his lips as he came, buried deep inside you.

Your hands slipped from the headboard, resting on the pillows beside his head, your hair a mess, your breathing ragged, but all Dean could do was smile a little. You were beautiful. His hands moved to your back, pulling you flush against his chest while you both enjoyed the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

Neither of you moved for a while, enjoying the comfort of each other’s arms. Not even after his cock had softened and slipped out of you. Being hunters, neither of you got close to people. For you, though, you had another reason. Slowly, you moved so that you were lying beside him, not quite ready to leave.

Dean, though, got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. Heen returned with a warm, damp washcloth. You watched him with curiosity as he cleaned you and then himself before he tossed the washcloth back into the bathroom, landing it in the sink. Then, he climbed back into the bed and pulled you close.

So, you let yourself enjoy him and the comfort you felt in his arms. He had treated you like no other man had, like you were more than just a means to his end. Dean just wasn’t ready to let you go, but at the same time, knew he had to. For him, he’d pretend, even if just for the night, that you were his and that he wouldn’t leave before you woke in the morning.

You listened to his breathing and his heartbeat while pretending to fall asleep yourself. With you in his arms, he'd completely forgotten to text Sam, but right now, he couldn't care less.

He didn't want to think about how perfectly you fit against him or how holding you close eased the tension in his muscles. It wasn't long before he slipped off to sleep, and that was your cue.

Carefully, you slipped out of his bed, making sure not to disturb him. With silent footsteps, you gathered your clothes, dressed, and then snuck out of his motel room.

You didn't see the man across the street watching you as you walked a few doors down to your own room. Moving quickly, you packed the few things you had out, then went back outside and to your car.

After tossing your bag into the backseat, you drove away. Sam made a mental note of the license plate number, then headed into his and Dean's shared room.

Sam deadpanned, seeing his brother passed out in his bed and Dean's clothes tossed haphazardly around the room. With a frustrated sigh, he wrote down the plate number before hitting the sack in the unused bed.

—---------------

As the sun rose, casting away the shadows of the night, you were singing along to a random song on a random station. Maybe I should have called Bobby first. It'd been a few months since you'd seen the man who had cared for you after you had lost your parents.

Just a few more hours. The thought made you smile, and you always told yourself you would make a better effort to stop by and see him. And, every time, you ended up getting caught up in hunting. At least you remembered to call him, often.

When you pulled into his driveway, you let out a relieved sigh, killing the engine. Then, you grabbed your bag and headed to the door but never got the chance to knock.

“You had better not have even thought about knocking,” Bobby scolded you.

You looked down, about to apologize, when he laughed and pulled you into a hug. As you wrapped your arms around him, laughing with him. “I missed you too, old man,” you replied teasingly.

“Now come inside and get something to eat. I know you didn't sleep last night either,” he told you as the two of you went inside.

For the next several hours, the two of you talked, catching up on the things both of you had been up to. You made the both of you some lunch, eating together in the living room. It was the purr of a beautiful engine that pulled your attention to the window in the living room.

“You expecting company?” you asked Bobby as you tried to make out what kind of car it was. For a moment, Bobby wasn't sure what you were talking about, but then remembered how good your hearing was. “No, but sometimes people drop in an say hi, like you,” he chuckled.

—---------------------------

When Dean woke, the other side of the bed was empty. He found it slightly amusing since he was typically the one to do the leaving. The part that scared him was that he found himself missing you. He let the events of the night replay in his mind as a sigh slipped past his lips.

“You planning on sleeping the day away?” Sam asked from the table, having been up for over an hour already.

Dean sat up with a slight groan. His muscles hurt in all the right ways, and he couldn’t help but smile a little. Man, she was something else. Sam kept his eyes on his laptop as Dean got out of bed, that smile still on his lips as he attempted to find his clothes from the night before and got dressed.

As Dean sat down across from Sam, a cup of coffee in his hands, Sam finally looked up at him, chuckling slightly at his bedhead. “Aren’t you normally the one to leave before the chick wakes up?” Sam teased him.

“Normally,” Dean chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “She was something else, though,” he added with a sigh.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “I got her plate number after she left last night.”

Dean’s head snapped up, “She left that soon?” “Yeah. I watched her from across the street a couple hours after you left the bar with her. I never got a text from you, but figured that a couple hours was plenty of time,” Sam replied nonchalantly.

“Shit. Sorry about that,” Dean apologized sheepishly, taking a sip of his coffee. That was when the other thing Sam had said finally sunk in as a smirk toyed with his lips. “Did you run her plate number?” He asked quizzically.

Sam chuckled with amusement, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah. I did that when I got up. Why?” He was going to have some fun with this one, having quickly figured out that his brother was far more into you than he typically was with any woman he’d had a one-night stand with.

Dean gave his brother an instant bitch face, not having had enough coffee for Sam’s antics. “And?” His annoyed tone only fueled his brother's amusement further.

“And, I’m pretty sure she’s a hunter, given the information I found online. She’s got at least four aliases, and has helped out on a lot of cases. Her names are on tons of police reports across the country,” Sam explained as he focused on his laptop screen again, clicking around. “Oh, and her actual name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Wait, I’ve heard that before,” Dean stated quickly, now attempting to wrack his brain as to where he’d heard your name before. It was on the tip of his tongue and driving him crazy that it wouldn’t come to him.

It was Sam’s turn to raise an eyebrow as he looked over at his brother. “If she’s a hunter, it would make sense you heard her name before.” Dean’s brow furrowed. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I know that name, Y/L/N. I just can’t remember where I heard it.”

Sam chuckled, “Finish your coffee. Then we’ll pack up, get some breakfast, and finish the drive to Bobbys.”

Dean’s thoughts were on your last name, trying desperately to remember where he’d heard it. It was like this while he finished his coffee, packed up his things, had breakfast with his brother at the diner, and then while he drove. He only half heard anything Sam said as the day progressed, and he never once turned on any music.

His mind had gone over past cases, other hunters he had spoken with, even the things written in his dad’s journal, but nothing was coming to mind. “You gonna spend the whole drive thinking about her?” Sam chuckled from the passenger seat. You were probably the only woman that had ever gotten to Dean like this.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening some while Sam tried to stifle his amusement. “I’m telling you, I’ve heard that last name before.”

“Is that all it is?” Sam teased him, earning him another bitch face. “It was that good, huh?” he chuckled before deciding to shut up before he pushed his brother too far. Sam loved picking on his brother, but he knew when to drop a topic.

When Dean pulled into Bobby’s driveway, he was a little surprised to see another vehicle parked in his spot. Sam, on the other hand, sat forward a little, instantly recognizing the car. She knows Bobby? He glanced over at Dean, who only looked annoyed that his spot was taken up by some stranger. That’s when he realized that Dean didn’t know the car belonged to you and was going to enjoy the surprise on his face.

“Bobby’s got company,” Dean grumbled, killing the engine.

“He helps a lot of hunters,” Sam shrugged as he got out of the Impala.

They headed up the steps and Dean knocked on the door, being respectful, even if Bobby was like an adopted father to the two of them.

—---------------------------

The moment the door opened and he saw you, he was speechless. Sam was doing his best not to bust out in laughter at not only Dean’s shock and surprise, but also yours. You thought you’d never see him again after you’d snuck out of his motel room, and he thought the same.

“Who is it, Y/N?” Bobby hollered from the living room, pulling you and Dean from your thoughts.

“Not sure. Looks like a couple of hooligans,” you replied with a smirk as Dean gave you his bitch face, not amused.

Bobby had a feeling he knew who it was, but went to the door anyway, just to make sure. Seeing who it was, Bobby chuckled at what you had called him, shaking his head. “It’s just the Winchesters. Let 'em in, Y/N.”

You opened the door the rest of the way before heading into the living room, not entirely sure how to react. This was the first time you’d run into a one-night stand after the fact. After returning to your seat, you grabbed your beer and finished it off, just as the three of them entered the living room.

“Sam, Dean, this is Y/N. She’s practically my daughter, so behave yourselves, or I’ll let her kick your ass for being disrespectful,” Bobby stated sternly, and Dean froze as his eyes met yours.

Shit, I’m a deadman, Dean thought to himself as the realization finally hit him as to where he had heard your last name before, but it had been years ago. It wasn’t helping that you were acting as though the two of you hadn’t had the most amazing sex of his life the night before. He watched as you stood, extending your hand to each of them.

“Nice to meet the two of you. Bobby’s mentioned you two idjits a few times,” you told them both teasingly and playfully.

God, the mouth on her. Those lips… Dean shook his head before shaking your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. That was when Bobby’s hand came up and smacked the back of his head. “Owe! What was that for?!” Dean grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head. You just chuckled before sitting down, noticing that Sam had done the same.

“If she doesn’t kick your ass, I might,” Bobby warned him. “She doesn’t need you leadin’ her on.” And with that, he sat back behind his desk, sipping his whiskey and keeping an eye on Dean and where his eyes wandered.

Dean gave you a questioning glare but chose to sit down and not look directly at you after that one. Sam had a hard time not laughing at the entire situation. It was clear you hadn’t said a word to Bobby about your night before or that you at least knew Dean’s name. He wasn’t about to be the one to say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was be the one to spill the beans. Plus, this was far more amusing.

You played it cool, pretending as though last night hadn’t been the most amazing night of your life. Hell, you had to after what Bobby said. It wasn’t like you needed your practical father knowing you had one-night stands from time to time. Then there was what he said about Dean, and it made you wonder if he was like other typical hunters, leaving behind a trail of women from every case he took.

For the next several hours, they caught up on each other’s lives. You mostly listened. At least now you remembered where you had heard Dean’s name before. Thanks to the alcohol and the way he had made your body feel, you hadn’t even thought twice about it the night before. When you went to go cook something for dinner, Dean glanced over, but only slightly, watching the gentle sway of your hips.

Bobby wasn’t stupid. He’d practically raised you. He just wasn’t going to pry into things that were none of his business. You were an adult, after all. However, he wasn’t about to let anything happen in his house with his daughter, well, adopted daughter, technically. Bobby leaned back in his chair, sipping his whiskey, watching Dean. The old man didn’t miss much.

“Go help Y/N with dinner,” Bobby told Dean, his tone stern. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Dean didn’t say a word but quickly got up and joined you, leaning against the counter. At first, he wasn’t sure what to even help with, so he focused on doing the few dishes that were in the sink. You watched him from the corner of your eye as you set things up on the counter and stove. Neither of you spoke for a while, the tension in the kitchen building as each silent second passed.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Dean whispered, not wanting Bobby to hear.

“When?” you whispered, focusing on cooking instead of looking over at him. You weren’t sure if he meant the night before or when he and his brother showed up at Bobby’s.

“Last night? Today? Pick one,” he grumbled quietly.

You glanced over at him, then back at the food. “Would it have mattered?”

He knew you had a point. It wasn’t like the two of you were anything to each other, but he couldn’t shake the way you’d make him feel when he had held you afterward. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. “No,” he sighed. “Guess not.” And with that, he began setting the table.

You felt a pang in your chest but reminded yourself that it had only been a one-night stand, no matter how it had felt being in his arms afterward. So, you focused on finishing dinner, keeping up that mask to hide the things you didn’t want to deal with. Being a Touched was lonely and for a little bit, Dean had made all those feelings go away. You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that now.

Bobby knew something was up, but he wouldn’t broach the topic, not in front of the brothers. He silently watched you, Dean, and Sam while interacting with the conversation over dinner. The boys were planning on heading out in the morning for another case. You were going to hang around for a few days, which he appreciated, even if he couldn’t always say it.

After dinner, when you went to do the dishes, Bobby stopped you and then told the brothers to take care of the cleanup. So, you went to shower, pushing your thoughts aside. Pajamas were a pair of sweats and a slightly baggy, comfy shirt. You took a moment to listen to what was being said before standing in the entryway of the living room.

“I’m heading to bed. It was nice to meet the two of you. Be safe out there,” you told the brothers before giving Bobby a hug.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Y/N,” Sam replied, but Dean said nothing, terrified of the emotions you evoked in him.

You kept that hunter's mask up as you went to your room. It was just a one-night stand. Get it together already, you mentally berated yourself as you stared at the ceiling from your bed. Even though you hadn’t slept since the night before last, you didn’t want to sleep, almost afraid you’d dream of him.

Over the course of the day, you had learned that you and Dean had a lot in common but had kept your mouth shut. Luckily, Bobby hadn’t said anything either. “God, this is stupid,” you mumbled as you finally got yourself comfortable under the covers for the night. Your mind wasn’t quite ready to drop the topic of Dean, and it took you another hour before you could fall asleep.

Morning came, like it always did, and you just looked at the light trying to penetrate the drawn curtains. You didn’t get out of bed, though. Your dreams were still playing on repeat in your head. All of them of Dean. Hunting with him and his brother. Being with him. The part that scared the hell out of you was that in the dreams, it all felt so… right, like it was meant to be, just like how it had felt when he held you close that night.

It was hearing the Impala’s engine that made you finally get out of bed and go to your window. Gingerly, you reached out and moved the curtains so you could see. Dean was behind the wheel, and Sam was saying something to Bobby. However, when you looked back at Dean, he was looking up at you. There was something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat while at the same time, took your breath away.

I’m glad I got to feel that with someone, even if it was only for one night, and I’ll never see you again.

—--------------------------

Dean couldn’t get you out of his head. You’d acted like it was only sex that night, but something kept nagging at his chest. It was both driving him insane and scaring the hell out of him. He had only half interacted with Bobby and Sam the night before after you’d gone to bed. You were a puzzle to him, a mystery, and no matter how badly he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he wanted to figure you out and learn everything he could about you.

God, what’s wrong with me? It was the one main thought that kept circling his mind as he had tried to find sleep on Bobby’s couch while staring at the ceiling. His gaze kept drifting to the hallway that led to where your room was. He wanted to ask you about so many things, but he was both terrified of the emotions you brought out in him and of Bobby kicking his ass for having already touched you.

When you hadn’t come out of your room that morning, he felt his heart sink. He wanted to see you, even if you didn’t feel a thing for him. He knew he felt something for you. Sam tried a few times to engage him in conversation, but Dean’s focus was on his coffee, and thoughts of you.

Now, sitting behind the wheel of his Baby, he dared to look up at Bobby’s house, not sure which window was yours. He tried to just focus on the purr of the engine, but the moment he saw you at your window, he couldn’t look away. The way the sun hit you just right, dancing off your features through the window. Your hair still messy from sleep. To him, you looked like an angel for a moment, and the look in your eyes caught him off guard. There was something there. Something that made his heart skip a beat and butterflies dance in his gut.

“Earth to Dean,” Sam’s voice pulled his gaze for a brief moment before he looked back at your window, but you were gone. “Are we going or just sitting here?”

“We’re going,” Dean grumbled, and with that, he drove away, trying not to wonder if he’d ever see you again, or that pull in his chest to go back, to you.

—---------------------------------

You hadn’t even bothered changing out of your pajamas when you joined Bobby in the living room after getting some coffee. There was no hiding that you were dealing with something, and he could instantly see it, letting out a quiet sigh as he leaned back in his seat. Bobby had done a lot of research on Touched, especially those from Bastet. “You found it, didn’t you,” he asked with both sincerity and concern.

Without looking up from your cup, you answered him. “Yeah,” you whispered, as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, mainly because Dean hadn’t seemed to feel it, the pull you did, or the pain of walking away. You didn’t want to admit that he was your soulmate, and now, you were a little worried about possibly being pregnant.

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