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zepskies · 2 days ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Omg yay!! I'm so excited to dive into your thoughts on Part 2. As you saw, it's a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. 😅

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

LOL girl I don't blame you for being distracted. The mental image of Dean manhandling in Protective Mode does things to me too. 🤣

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

You just wanna go:

Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships. Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

Oh my God, yeah. I considered having her be the one to face her "mistake" and talk to the mother, but I felt that having Sam take that on would be better, even as it added to the reader's guilt (and it would keep the story moving).

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

Lmaooo I knowww, I'm sorry! All the angsty feels in this one. 😭 Now you see the full weight of why Dean popped off the way he did. He just feels things so deeply, it comes out sometimes in anger, when at the root of it all, it's fear.

Thank you though for that compliment! I think this is the only time I've written that Dean trope. Because I honestly think it's overused, but I tried to do it in a way that made sense for the ultimate growth of their relationship and who Dean is.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

Thank you so much!! 🙏🏽🥹🥹 Yeah same, and it's definitely a contrast with Dean, who obviously cares about helping people and takes way too much responsibility on his shoulders, but he's been doing this so long and seen so much that he's learned to compartmentalize a bit more.

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Oh girl yesss! If you make it to the last two stories in the series, remember this moment. 😏💜

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless. And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Ahaha thank you so much!! I LOVE me some salsa music, and it was a fun challenge to try and transition between these scenes. From one writer to another, I always appreciate those "technical" observations. 💓💓💓

Oh big YEP!! "Devorame Otra Ves" was the first song I thought of when the salsa idea came. Dean, in fact, is that guy. 🤣🤣

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

LMAO Oh yeah, the gif was a dead giveaway for what was coming later on. 😏 And thank you for shouting out the “What, now you’re shy?” line! It's a special kind of intimate, I thought, for her to be kind of embarrassed about what she's just done, but Dean like, "uh-uh, you're not getting away that easily." 😂😂

Also I love you for using a Chicago Fire gif!! loll Was a big fan of that show back in the day.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

Awww thank you! I love me some fun giggly romantic smut. 😂

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

Lol but seriously, I really appreciate that, thank you!! This story was definitely an emotional rollercoaster. I'm so glad you enjoyed it though!! 💕 ...And Sam's little mishap LOL. Dean has very little shame -- something he's going to prove later on again in the series. 😂

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster.

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood.

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming.

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done.

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his.

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires.

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest.

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital.

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead.

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness.

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?”

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him.

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead.

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it.

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.”

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps.

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.”

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms.

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely.

You truly become incensed at that.

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks.

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn.

Dean calls your name in frustration.

“What?” you hiss.

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks.

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything.

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town.

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own.

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes.

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back.

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence.

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music.

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts.

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table.

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips.

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard.

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart.

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.”

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible.

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him.

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—”

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand.

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it.

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes.

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.”

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea.

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet.

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room.

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.”

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve.

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head.

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing.

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand.

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance.

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.”

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot.

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit.

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest.

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.”

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders.

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance.

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles.

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss.

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question.

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking.

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts.

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine.

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close.

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there.

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms.

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze.

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him.

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs.

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye.

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms.

Oh, fuck yeah.

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs.

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up.

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control.

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls.

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums.

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk.

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground.

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit.

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck.

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you.

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask.

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love.

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze.

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease.

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts.

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs.

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase.

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room.

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest.

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room.

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again.

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]:

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]:

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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obxsummer · 21 hours ago

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making the bed // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: charleston provided no leads, jj return from his parental adventure, john b plays therapist, and sarah's got something to tell you. everyone's got a whole lot of secrets and shit is about to hit the fan.

warnings: s4 spoilers, talks of depression and anxiety

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Charleston was a huge hole of dead ends. Cleo had attempted to kill the man who’d murdered Terrance, which lead to John B almost shooting him. Sarah and Pope almost drowned down in the catacombs, and you and Kiara were left to corral everyone back to the Twinkie when shit hit the fan.

You fell back into your usual numb routine, letting everyone shower and clean up upon arrival back to Poguelandia, while you went out to the shop to check on everything and see if JJ had resurfaced. To your relief, the HMS Pogue was pulling up as soon as you hit the dock and you took off running.

“JJ!” You yelled as you got closer, tugging the hood off your head just in time to collide with his chest and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Hi, oh shit-” He caught you with ease, grabbing the back of your head to hold you closer. You took a deep breath, breathing in his cologne that you’d replaced every time he’d run out and the faint scent of your shampoo that he swore he never used.

“You okay?” JJ asked quietly, his fingers grabbing the nape of your neck to massage the pressure points of your skin before letting you back to the ground. He could practically feel the anxiety and tesnion radiating off of you, and he was likely no different.

“Where’d you go?” You avoided his question. “Did you find your dad?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s been hiding out with Barracuda Mike. He um… he told me he wasn’t my real dad.”

You swore you could hear your heart cracking in your chest. “What?”

“I know.. I don’t-” He groaned and handed the letter from the other day over to you, allowing you to read the script writing fully this time. “It says talk to your father, and then Luke says that Wes Genrette… is my grandfather.”

Your eyes skimmed the writing quickly, Wes’s letter telling JJ he needed to ask his dad regarding albatross, and a bunch of other things you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on. “That would make Groff your dad? And Larissa…” You trailed off with the sinking realization that if all of this was true, JJ’s birth mom was dead. Gone.

JJ heaved a big breath. “Yeah. And that baby she supposedly drowned with? That’s me.”

“You?”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re…you’re a Genrette.”

JJ shrugged, his eyes distant as he looked over the water. “He’s.. he’s probably trying to work some inheritance scam and he’s trying to get some money, trying to use me for a quick buck because that’s all he does.”

“Look.” You grabbed his face in your hands, holding him steady from the spiral he was getting ready to jump into. “We’ll figure it out, okay? We… we’ll figure it out.”

His expression crumbled in your hold, and he moved forward to kiss you slowly, teeth pulling on your bottom lip in want of more. “Missed you.”

You smiled and kissed him again, sinking fully into his hands like a piece of putty. “Missed you too. So much.”

“Don’t tell the others?” He mumbled it in a questioning tone. You nodded in agreement, figuring the two of you could theorize and catch up later. His arms scooped you up again, lips finding yours as he moved slowly up to the shop and out of view of your friends if they resurfaced.

“How was Charleston?” JJ asked once you were settled on the counter and his hands rested on your hips.

You shrugged, fingers twisting in the strands of blond hair on his neck. “A bust, as usual. They beat us to it. We all split up, so you can ask them for more since JB and I got stuck on graveyard duty.”

JJ smiled, a small laugh in his chest before he kissed you again. “Glad you were with him, keeps you safe.”

You rolled your eyes at his concern, but it was appreciated nonetheless. There was a lot of heavy conversations that needed to happen between the two of you, but you didn’t want to add to JJ’s already confused mindset. He didn’t need that right now, especially when he just wanted to love on you and forget it all happened.

John B came in search of you and JJ shortly after, hand slamming over his eyes when he caught sight of your small makeout session. “Gross, can you not?”

You flipped your brother off without looking at him and unlocked your ankles from behind JJ’s back. “Nobody invited you,” You sang toward him as JJ squeezed your hips.

“Shower’s open,” Your brother ignored your negative comment and focused on your boyfriend. “You good, dude? Everything okay?”

JJ frowned and offered John B a shrug. “It’s my dad, dude. He’s like a fucking roach, never really goes away.”

John B nodded, taking the hint that the topic didn’t really want to be discussed. He squeezed JJ’s shoulder in support before flicking your knee cap. “Get out of here, smelly. Don’t need you stinkin’ up the shop.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed off the counter to head into the house with the intent to clean up. The zoning hearing was tonight regarding the property, and a lovely pit of ever-present anxiety had settled in your chest.

Taking your time to soak up the hot water and wash the chaos of the last 48 hours off your body, you rejoined the group on the porch where everyone had been catching JJ up on the events in Charleston.

“You know, that’s a lot of sarcasm we don’t really need right now, okay?”

“Sorry, I was just rat swarmed, so.”

You disregarded John B and Pope’s lover fest and walked forward into JJ’s awaiting arms, tucking yourself into his chest without a word. You listened in as they theorized rallying people on The Cut in hopes of having some sort of attention on the zone hearing, hoping the majority crowd would provide some defense.

“Speaking of family, this is gonna sound insane, but Rafe came by before we left…”

You pulled yourself out of JJ’s embrace to stare at Kiara, terrified. Your heart was pounding in your chest out of fear that she would reveal more than intended.

“What?”

“Why?”

John B met your gaze. “He was there. That’s why you were crying before we left. Why didn’t you say something?”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, trying to give him all the answers in your expression without having to speak.

Kiara held out the business card Rafe had placed in your hand, reaching it out to Sarah. “I don’t know,” Your friend lied, “He said he wanted to help… help us.”

Sarah snorted as she read the text on the card. “Rafe Cameron, CEO. CEO of what? Whatever. I’ll hit him up, see what he can do.”

John B was still looking at you like he was putting together every piece of the puzzle. “Alright, let’s do this shit.”

Each of you took a claim to your portion of support, JJ taking the surf crew on the beaches with a promise to not get distracted. John B was taking Sarah to speak to Rafe, leaving Kie, Pope, and Cleo to head into town.

“Hey!” John B called out when you’d made your move to follow JJ. “You’re with me, Birdie.”

You stared at John B for a moment, trying to decide if it was worth the argument before nodding in agreement. JJ departed after kissing you again, the life slowly coming back into his face as processed the emotions he’d been going through.

Once Sarah disappeared into the house that was addressed on Rafe’s, you realized why John B requested you to come with.

“Why didn’t you tell me Rafe was at the house?”

You sat in the passenger seat, eyes scanning the estate in front of you as you shrugged. “Didn’t want to talk about it.”

John B sighed, his hand rubbing over his face. He was frustrated with the way you closed yourself off, but he also knew it was a defense mechanism. “You can’t shut yourself off from me, not after our conversation last night. I said we weren’t done?”

Your fingers picked at the worn interior of the Twinkie. God, you loved JB but you hated when he pulled the older brother card. “JB, please.”

John B reached over to grab your hand to stop your anxious fidgeting. He pulled slightly until you were facing him and couldn’t avoid the conversation. “You dropped a pretty heavy bomb last night. Are you okay?”

“Am I ever?” You shook your head, curling into a ball as comfortable as possible across the seat. You gave a half-assed laugh. “I don’t like that being around Rafe renders me completely useless. I don’t like that I shut down and become a ball of crying anxiety for the following day. I don’t like that, I hold you down, I weigh on the group, it-”

“Woah, woah. You do not weigh anyone, especially me, down? You hear me?” John B disagreed, tugging on your hand so you would look at him again. “Birdie, come on. You gotta talk to me.”

“I’m trying.” You pulled away to rub at your eyes and attempt to reset your brain. “God, I’m trying. It’s like wired into my head. Every time I try to think differently, it tells me I’m wrong. It’s like a self-curated internal torture that-”

“Okay words are getting too big,” John B interrupted with a shake of his head. “I told Sarah on the ferry home I’m done putting the two of you in danger. Every thing we’ve done risks one of your lives and I’m not doing it anymore, okay? That includes letting you stew with the darkness in your head. I let it happen for too long when Dad was here and I refuse to do it any longer.”

You blinked tears away as best as you could before meeting John B’s gaze again. This was your older brother, and shit had he started to act like it. JJ tended to allow you to be self-destructive because he did it to himself, so it was hard to pull someone out of something that you sunk into on your own. Apparently, John B wasn’t letting it slide anymore.

“You are so important, to me, to JJ, to Sarah, and to our friends. I know you don’t think that, and I know you let the negativity win some nights, okay? But I refuse to give up on you, and I refuse to let you fall apart in the room next to me because of some asshole who had everything handed to him his whole life, even if he’s my technical brother-in-law.”

A small laugh made its way out of you at the reminder that John B and Sarah were married in their terms, the small handcrafted rings on their fingers a new addition to prove such. You were watching them grow up right in front of you, as if you and Sarah weren’t practically the same age. Everything between John B and Sarah felt so real and mature even if they were still shotgunning beers and eating expired chips every other week.

You were grateful for Sarah’s return, even if she seemed less than pleased. Hopping out of the passenger seat, you returned to the back where you could flop down in your sorrow, despite everything John B had tried to talk into you. The energy of dealing with the hearing and attempting to rally the island wasn’t there for you, and quite frankly, you wanted a nap.

Sarah apparently had no luck with Rafe, to which John B wasn’t surprised about. Your brother busied himself calling some connections as Sarah climbed into the back with you, the two of you laying across the blanket covered ground of the van.

“You okay?” She asked quietly as she twisted on her side to face you. “I know you’re sick of hearing that, but I wanted to ask.”

You blinked tiredly at her, but nodded. “This isn’t going to work,” You admitted honestly, knowing despite all the effort your group would put in, nothing ever worked out when the Kooks are behind it. “I want it to, but unless we get rich in the next two hours, we’re fucked.”

“I um… I know this isn’t a great time but, can I tell you something?” The shift in her tone made you concerned and you frowned but nodded nonetheless. “I haven’t had my period in… a while.”

“A while?” You repeated and pushed yourself up on your elbows to meet her height. “Sarah.”

She groaned and ran her hand across her face. “I know! I know. I should’ve… ugh. I just thought it was stress, and I don’t want to know, but I… I think I already know.”

“Did you um… did you check?” The lump in your throat was building quickly and you tried to fake a cough to help. Shit.

She bit her lip and shook her head slowly. You nodded in understanding, silence consuming the van as the idea soak in for the two of you.

“Does John B…?”

“No,” She answered quietly, her voice shaking. “I want to be sure, and I know things are messy right now, so I don’t want to stress him out. You were the only person I could think to tell.”

You placed your hand on her arm in comfort despite feeling like someone’s hand was squeezing your heart. “Sarah, he’s going to be so excited.”

“We just had this conversation on the ferry about it, and I… we’re so young, and I’m so scared,” She explained as she leaned back against the door. “We’re going to be homeless, and broke, and this is no environment to be raising a child in.”

“I know, but you’ll figure it out,” You reassured, “We’ll figure it out.”

Sarah nodded, tears finally breaking through as she squeezed your hand in return. She shifted forward, colliding to hug you tightly. A sob echoed through the van, whether it coming from you or her, you didn’t know. You felt like your heart was being ripped in two, pure excitement for Sarah and John B, but also a wave of sorrow for yourself and the knowledge that this feeling wouldn’t ever be yours.

Thankfully, your brother didn’t give you time to sink further into thought as he caught sight of the two of you crying in the backseat.

“Aw, seriously? What the fuck did I miss now?”

a/n: sorry she's short but i'm prepping for the hottest crashout of the century next chapter

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#outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #goy series #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks #jj outer banks #jj maybank x routledge!reader #obx x reader #routledge!reader #john b routledge #obx jj #jj x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank x you

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kitkatpancakestack · 2 days ago

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DMV meetcute lesbians yay! I have been writing about them in an effort to break through this hellish writer's block bc they are fun and nothing hurts in this universe and I love them <3 Anywayyy it's been a bit since I shared some writing so here's a snippet, if you're so inclined:

“I appreciate the thought,” Chloe said, breaking Gabi from her spiral. “You driving me home from the hospital the other day was enough. You don’t—owe me anything.”

“It’s not—uh, whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” She more or less threw the food onto the kitchen table in order to intercept Chloe at the cabinets, where she had attempted to reach for the plates. “You had a pen literally lodged in your chest, and I thought you were gonna die on me, like, three days ago, so maybe let me get that?”

“I can do it.”

“Okay. Humor me then.”

Chloe blew a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. “Beer?”

Alcohol always had the potential to make this evening better or exponentially worse. A gamble she was willing to take. “Yeah, thanks.

Chloe moved to the fridge instead and Gabi grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and went about setting out the various containers of chinese food.

“Thanks,” Gabi said, as an open beer was set down in front of her. Chloe smiled and Gabi tried to ignore the weird flip in her stomach and the dryness in her mouth in favor of sticking to her new life plan, which was to not be a walking disaster. Thus far an utter failure but call her an optimist. “So, uh, feel free to take whatever you want. Looking at it all in front of me I think I went a little overboard. Eyes bigger than my stomach and all that.”

Chloe didn’t say anything, but her posture was loose and relaxed as she dragged the lo mein closer to her. They ate in silence, nothing but din of LA continuing on outside the walls. Objectively it was a fine moment, and for anybody else it may have even been content, but Gabi didn’t think she had ever been fine or content in her entire life. As it was, she sat chewing on her egg roll hoping her cool exterior did not give away the nervous breakdown simmering underneath.

You’re just . . . you’re too freaking much, Gabi! You’re too much, until I actually want to have a legitimate conversation with you, or I need you to tell me something real, and then it’s nothing! Two years together and I still just do not understand you. I think that’s what you really want, is for nobody to know you at all!

“Gabi?”

She jerked, swallowing the egg roll gone soft in her mouth, throat suddenly tight. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you wanted another beer.” Chloe’s mouth was soft and pink and her lips a little spit slick from licking them, and Gabi felt her face go hot.

“Um.” Girl don’t do it. “Yeah, that would be—thanks.”

She fought the urge to bang her head on the table as Chloe returned to the kitchen. “Listen, Chloe—” she stopped when saw a letter tacked up on the fridge with "alumni" in big blocky letters at the top, the first thing she’d seen in the apartment that had any kind of individuality or hint that an actual person lived inside. “Whoa, are you a dancer?”

Chloe frowned in confusion, but then her gaze snapped to the fridge, and a weird stiffness settled over her features. There one moment and gone the next, though. She smoothed the edges out quickly and seamlessly and settled on a more neutral expression. “Yeah, I—” She laughed, a quick burst of air through her nose, shaking her head. “I graduated from Julliard, actually. No big deal.”

Gabi thought her eyes were about to pop out of her head. “No big— are you shitting me.”

Chloe set the beer down. “No.”

“I just—”

“What?” The word was defensive, biting. Gabi walked back her excitement and dug her nails into her palms to keep herself in check.

“I could see it,” was what she settled on. “Your poise handling me during that driving test was unparalleled.”

Chloe laughed for real and that was the biggest win Gabi had earned in a while. “Yeah, you were pretty bad.”

“Hey, I am aware of my many, many faults.”

“You’re human,” Chloe rebuked. “Is this about that breakup you told me before? I’m sure your ex-girlfriend wasn’t faultless. Anyway, you saved my life, so I’d put you on my team any day.”

Gabi laughed, the sound was hollow even to her own ears. “Thanks, I guess.” She fiddled with the paper label on the beer bottle. “She, uh . . .” Gabi cleared her throat. “I’d texted her, because she’d gone to the store, and we didn’t have any milk and I just wanted to make sure that she got some milk.” A stabbing pain ricocheted through her, anchoring her to that moment, a window of time she never felt like she would be able to leave. “She left her phone on the coffee table, and it lit up, and I just glanced over at it, but she’d changed my name in the phone. It just said, ‘Pandora’s Box.’”

She remembered confronting her ex about it. Still hopeful even during one of the worst moments of her life. Yeah, Gabs, it says Pandora's Box, you know, that thing you open and then it's just, fucking disaster after disaster. Sound familiar?

Chloe’s face was measured, and Gabi felt bad that each time they got together she ended up trauma dumping on her. Jesus, she really was a mess. “I’m sorry, that’s—I didn’t come here too bitch and complain—”

“Gabi, oh my god.” Chloe reached over with her good side and covered Gabi’s hand with her own. It was a little larger than Gabi expected, seeing it up close, but soft and warm, her nails well-manicured where Gabi’s were bitten down to anxious nubs and bleeding all the time. “Didn’t I tell you she was in your rearview now? I didn’t know you back then, I only know you now. It’s okay.” She smiled, a little bigger, genuine. “I like you plenty the way you are.”

If she had been one more beer in she might have started tearing up, but even as her eyes remained dry on the inside she felt soupy and warm and soothed. It would only last as long as the evening, but it had been a while since she felt anything close to this. She clinged to it. She clinged to the slide of Chloe’s hand off her own. She clinged to the freckle perfectly dotted under the jut of her jaw.

“Thanks for dinner,” Chloe said, rising to her feet.

The buzzing under her skin made her restless, nervous, so she turned to her regular source of comfort, to the knowledge that she could leave, she could always leave, she could always disappear, if things imploded again.

And so she clung to that, too.

#kitkat writes #911 abc #chloe x gabi #DMV lesbians #idk what to tag this!!!! lol

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vanya-evergreen · 1 day ago

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𝑆𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘！

Hi, just wanted to give a little quick sneak peek on my Royal! reader X Batfamily fic, because I realized it's been a while since I've posted any writing stuff and I wanna make sure people will stay interested! it's sort of a retelling of the concept, but there's going to be new things added in and longer

You can read concept here.

𝐼𝑛ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐹𝑙𝑒𝑠ℎ

taglist! - @camilo-uwu @vanilliona @thegirlinrainbowsworld

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒－

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 1 （𝑆𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘 ）

The world had decided long ago that nothing goes without effect, good, bad, and indifferent. Every action and every motion will have an equal effect. This is the philosophy that was shoved down your throat since you could understand it. So why did you have such a big Effect?

The taps of rain on the roof was the loudest sound in the room. Sitting Idlily on the edge of the bed, your eyes stayed glued to the fire flickering in front of you. The brilliant light reflects in your eyes as it dances freely, but the fire is not the real point of your focus, no you are too lost in your mental prison. You force yourself to relive the memories and feelings, just to occupy your time. Your eyes can’t help but drift to the newspapers chaotically scattered across the floors; “Tyranny’s Last Remnant’ is what the newspapers had dubbed you.

The media had spent the months since your family’s imprisonment to tear you down ruthlessly. They say that you still lead a life of luxury and opulence because you weren’t punished like the rest of your family. Your eyes snap back to the fire, letting go of the breath stuck in your throat. you fall limply back onto the bed, as it creaks. The room around you was not a good reflection on in light of the accusation against you but you had no control of the room.

You wanted to hate the new place that you are meant to call home, but you couldn't even utter a complaint about it. You let these thoughts drift to the back of your mind. They weren’t nearly as loud as your memories.

You are stuck in a never ending cycle of self reflection that comes with your predicament. Maybe if your were more honest maybe you could see that you put yourself there. Everything you around is nothing but static. Your hands desperately grasp for the sheets of the bed, you no longer can feel them. Your mind races as your breathes grow shallow and slow. A sinking feeling takes over your body as your consciousness fades. You are sent off in your memories as the rain and fire grow into nothing but a quiet whisper.

When you come back to awareness, you no longer feel sheets of silk covering a plush mattress on your back, nor are you surrounded by the high walls of your room. Rather rounded stones of a river banks press in to your back as steady streams of spring water wash over you. When you open your eyes, you find that the water is not clear but rather unearthly cosmic colors whirling around as they rush over you and the stones are not a soothing gray but a chilling black, with your skies and ground bleeding into each other making them one in the same.

An empty laugh escapes your lips echoing in the empty space you always find yourself in, you want to feel something more but you felt too tired. All you can do is recall, back to the times when if you had even barely uttered of a complain it was dealt before you could even think again. You were pacified with gifts, territories, and new subjects to learn about. This was expected with being a royal, as your family had put it. They had found solace from their so-called stressful lives among material possessions, and it seemed as you would have to as well. You were always grateful for the lessons and gifts, but never once had they actually filled your deepest desire. Your deepest craving,

unconditional familial love. You yearned for it, yet it never came

You are ripped from your thoughts as a coldness washes over you. no longer surrounded by streams of spring water running over your almost lifeless body, you feel specs of snow and hell slowly beginning to cover you consuming you and your entirety as you fall deeper into the memory.

Echos of muffled hiccups and sniffles bounced off of the empty sumptuous palace halls. A child held they hands over their mouth, a weak attempt to silence their cries as they balled themselves up in the corner. They looked no older than 5, yet the way their face felt like they had seen the worst atrocities in this world could make you think other wise. You recognized the eyes without fail, it was you. You recognize this day, too. This horrid day.

Bells tolled in the distance startling you out of your ‘daydream’, not that they were in your mind to begin with. You didn’t move from your corner, you never wanted to move again. Your sobs becomes quieter as your tears dried, the bells continued on as servants rushed back and forth past you. They never once looked your way, as you lifted your eyes from your knees. They all looked panicked about something. Talking in quick whispers, they mumbled about ‘must find’ and an ‘heir’. You kept quiet as about a dozen more passed you, not even sparring a glance to you.

Eventually you got bored of the Methodic foot steps of the passer-by, you rested your head against the windows as the whispers and foot steps become distant as the bells finish their final course of rings. Back then, you thought it was funny how the bells still rang even well after the turn of the hour. Normally it was saved for the founders day and the rulers birthday; now you wish you had ran back then.

You had settled back into your abyss of deafening silence; staring out the window with distant eyes as the snow waltzed down from the cloudy skies above, but a looming figure watched you from a distance. You had become a perspective child, you felt their eyes on you when they first started staring. You didn’t want to pay any mind to that, ‘maybe they will go away if I don’t look for them’ is what you thought. The figure never looked away, the presence of the stare only grew more intensely focused on your unmoved figure.

You hadn’t move to look at the figure, you were lost in your thoughts, but the burning sensation intensified in your chest and began to crawl in to your hand and up your throat you knew they had drew closer to you. You whipped your head around to the figure, finally giving to what you thought the they wanted.

“Hello” the figure, now more clearly a man, softly said to you, as he kneeled down to your eyes level with a soft smile etched on to his face with warm gaze that accompanied it.

You were taken back by the man’s soft demeanor, the burning in your body had disappear the moment you saw his eyes. “Hi…” you stumble over your words as you were still to focused on how warmth from his gaze felt so unfamiliar yet, you had never wanted something to continue more.

“I am Bruce Wayne.” He offer out a hand to you, and you to reached out to take it but stopped yourself from taking it. Oh, You remembered that name from a list your parents had educated you on. His eyebrow creased and his smile fell as you retracted your hand.“Are you okay?”

Your parents said that with him especially to be more mindful of your actions because he was very important to your family, they warned you of the effect you may have. You always abided by the philosophy your were taught. “Yes” you hurriedly standing up and greeted him with a shallow bow, try your best not to trip over your feet. “Excuse me for my response,” you held an even voice as you rose up from the bow, keeping a straight back. “I am _ __, it is my pleasure to meet you, Sir Bruce” He was richer then your family and held no official titles, the King and Queen had offered him a dukedom when his company had helped the empire through a drought, but he turned it down.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, your highness.” His smile returned quickly after you exchanged greetings. You gave him a look when he said ‘Your Highness’.

“I am sorry Sir Bruce, but I think you have addressed me wrong. I am not a child of a current or pervious monarch.” You politely corrected him. He looked put off by the correction, you hurried to correct your act “what I meant was-” you were stopped short by him

“No, it’s okay. It was my mistake.” He seemed to relax as he watched you stumble over your word like any five year old child should. “I seem to have confused honorifics once again," He laughs "I hope that you excuse me I am still new to society.” You couldn’t help but feel a small flames of kinship burn in your heart as he spoke.

“I am too!” You blurted, eyes glistened with a hint of excitement. “Today is my first official day in society, or that's what my mom said.”

“Oh really?” Bruce tilled his head, rubbing his chin as if he wasn’t aware of it “Why today?”

“I don’t know,” you voice became hushed. You hadn’t stopped to think about it for long, you were just a kid excited to see new people.

“Perhaps, we can figure it out together.” Bruce stood up and offered his hand to you once again. You stared at his hand, something in your little mind started to itch. You took his hand with out hesitation this time.

“I would like that.” You gave him a small smile as he lead you down the hall.

You and Bruce spent the better part of an hour talking about many things as you roam the cold palace grounds. You hadn’t even noticed the larger amount of guards pacing the halls looking for something, while they mutter about being punished for ‘losing someone’. You were too distracted by the feeling your heart and head screamed for you to focus solely on Bruce. You weren’t sure what it was then, but you never wanted to let it go.

He seemed impressed by your knowledge, you could see glints of fascination in his eyes, as it absorbed his mind. You were a well educated child, even at this age, as it seemed. He indulged you with many different topics, from the basics of favorite color and animal to astronomy, science and literature. It was bliss for you.

But it would end for you.

“What about your family?” Bruce’s question was innocent enough, any reasonable adult would ask about your family. “Are they looking for you?”

#batman #batfam #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #x reader #batfamily #dc x reader #bruce wayne #dc universe #plantonic #platonic x reader #platonic batfam #platonic #batfam x y/n #batfam x you #batfam x batsibling

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