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lila-lou · 1 month ago

Text

✨Played - 3/5✨

Summary: You’re an aspiring actress stuck in dead-end roles, desperate for a break. Then you meet Jensen. Kind, connected and smitten Jensen. You don’t love him, but you pretend to. Until pretending turns real.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Angst, IMMORAL ffs

Word Count: 5594

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

It was one of those thick, slow summer afternoons, where the sun hung heavy in the sky and even the air felt too lazy to move.

You sat shotgun in Lila’s beat-up Honda, legs propped on the dash, wearing the kind of tank top that stuck to your back no matter how much you cracked the windows. The car smelled like old fries and cherry lip balm, and the AC coughed weakly in protest with every blast.

Lila, behind the wheel, tapped the steering wheel impatiently as the arrivals line at the airport refused to budge. “I swear”, she muttered, squinting through her sunglasses. “If Tessa walks out here with another Louis Vuitton duffel and some fake-lashed attitude, I’m turning this car around”.

You snorted, not looking away from the text thread you were half-scrolling, half-ignoring. “Come on. She’s not that bad”.

“She used to split burritos with us in the dorms”, Lila shot back. “Now she posts Instagram stories about ‘manifesting’ private jets. I’m just saying, LA changed her”.

You gave a half-shrug. “Everyone changes. Doesn’t mean she’s fake”.

“It means she’s either faking it or dangerously close to dating a crypto bro”.

You laughed. “Okay, that’s fair”.

But part of you was still trying to be hopeful. Tessa had been your friend since freshman year. The three of you had survived bad dates, worse professors, open-mic nights, heartbreak, and dorm room dance parties. Maybe she wore designer sunglasses now and used the word “vibe” too often, but underneath it, she was still Tessa. Probably.

“Just… give her a chance, alright?”, you said gently. “She might be annoying, but she’s still our girl”.

Lila sighed like it cost her something. “Fine. But if she brings up her TikTok following more than twice, I’m faking an emergency”.

You grinned, rolling your eyes. “Deal”.

And then, as if on cue, you spotted her. Tessa, weaving through the crowd of travelers, oversized sunglasses on, hair blown out, dragging a suitcase that probably cost more than your rent. She smiled big when she spotted you two and waved with the same arm that had a stack of gold bangles jingling on it like wind chimes.

Lila muttered something under her breath, but you elbowed her, and both of you climbed out of the car.

“Tessa!”, you called, waving.

“Babes!”, she squealed, throwing her arms around you first before pulling Lila into a very staged-looking hug.

And just like that, the energy changed.

The lake was quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a blanket. The stars had claimed the sky, bold and scattered, and the bonfire snapped gently at the heart of the gathering. Beer bottles clinked, someone passed around a half-empty bag of marshmallows, and the warm hum of summer conversation drifted on the breeze.

You sat on a blanket by the fire, tucked between Lila and Tessa, who looked somehow even more put together under the stars than she did in daylight. Her lipstick hadn't budged. Not once.

Jared and Misha were across from you, laughing way too hard about something dumb. Alex and Lila were stealing glances, giggling low between sips of whatever they were drinking. And Jensen… he was there too. Quiet. Watching. Nursing a beer like it was something sacred, gaze flicking to you every few minutes when he thought you weren’t looking.

Only you were.

And so was Tessa.

She went strangely still the second the guys had shown up. At first, you thought it was just the usual "new people in the room" vibe. But then her eyes went wide in a subtle, calculated way, and she leaned toward you, her voice low but buzzing.

“Wait”, she whispered, eyes locked on the trio of men near the fire. “Those are the guys from Supernatural”.

You blinked, confused. “From what?”.

She looked at you like you’d just admitted you didn’t know what coffee was. “Supernatural, babe. The show. Fifteen seasons? Demons, salt, trench coats, angst? That’s Jared and Misha. And that—”, she dropped her voice to a giddy whisper and nodded toward Jensen, “—that’s Jensen Ackles. I had the biggest crush on him in high school. Still kinda do”.

You turned slowly, eyes falling on Jensen.

His head was tilted slightly, listening to whatever Jared was saying, but you could tell, he was tuned in to you. He hadn’t looked directly at you yet, but his whole body felt like it was half-tilted in your direction, waiting.

And suddenly… it clicked. The deep voice. The quiet charisma. The weight in his gaze. The strange familiarity in how the others looked at him.

He was an actor. He was famous. And he hadn’t told you.

Your stomach turned slightly, caught between embarrassment and something harder. You’d told him about your auditions. Your failures. You’d spilled your dreams on a rooftop with whiskey in your hand and stars above your head, and he’d just listened. Said nothing. Not a single clue.

You leaned back, blinking at the fire, heat creeping up your neck. “Why didn’t he say anything?”, you muttered.

Tessa sipped her drink, eyes still on him. “I mean, would you, if you were him?”.

But that wasn’t the point. He knew. He knew how badly you wanted this, how much rejection hurt. And he’d let you keep talking like he wasn’t someone who’d already made it.

You felt a strange knot tightening in your chest. Not quite betrayal, not quite jealousy. Just… something sharp and uncomfortable.

Tessa took another lazy sip of her drink, eyes still fixed on Jensen like he was a dessert tray she hadn’t quite decided on yet. The fire crackled, and for a moment, her voice was the only thing you could hear above the pop of wood and the distant sound of water lapping against the shore.

“You know”, she said, voice light and teasing, but sharp in that way only Tessa could be, “you could probably just fuck him”.

Your head snapped toward her. “What?”, you asked, low, hoping no one else had caught it.

She just shrugged, all faux-innocence, her bracelets jingling with the movement. “I mean, come on. He’s obviously into you. At least use it. A little networking between the sheets never hurt anyone”.

Your stomach twisted. It was a joke, but it wasn’t. Not with the way she looked at you. Not with the edge behind her grin. You opened your mouth, but she was already talking again, leaning in conspiratorially like she was letting you in on some secret.

“Look”, she said, “you’ve been out here grinding for what? Two years? Still no agent. Still no credits worth putting in your bio. Still broke—no offense”, she added, like that made it any better.

You stiffened, staring straight ahead, heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to punch its way out. Lila looked over then, catching the tension in your shoulders, her smile fading just a little as she narrowed her eyes at Tessa, but didn’t say anything. Not yet.

Tessa kept going, oblivious or uncaring. “I’m just saying, you could be doing more. And he—”, she nodded toward Jensen again, “—he could help. Maybe it’s time to stop trying to win by talent alone. That’s not how it works anymore. You either know someone, or you blow someone”.

That last line landed like a slap.

You weren’t that kind of person. You never had been. You played fair. You worked hard. You showed up, even when it hurt. Even when the rejection stacked so high it started to sound like background noise.

But Tessa’s words clung to you like smoke.

Two years. Nothing.

How many auditions had you bombed? How many times had you walked home in the rain, makeup smudged, jaw clenched against the burn of another closed door? You weren’t getting younger. The window they always said was “wide open” at graduation had shrunk down to a crack, and all you could do was keep jamming your fingers through it, hoping to pry it back open.

And Jensen… he hadn’t told you who he was. Not when you told him about your dreams. Not when you poured your heart out on that damn rooftop. He’d sat there, nodding along. And all this time, he was already in. A career. A name. A built-in spotlight.

He lied.

Not directly, maybe. But a lie by omission was still a lie.

And in your messed-up, tired, cracked-around-the-edges state of mind… it almost made sense.

Maybe he did deserve it. You weren’t proud of that thought. Not even a little. But it was there.

And then he stood up, brushing off his jeans, his voice casual. “Gonna do a beer run”, he said to the group. “Anyone need anything?”.

“I’ll come with”, you said before you could think better of it.

His eyes met yours. Briefly. A flicker of something in them… surprise? Hope?

You didn’t give yourself time to read it. You just grabbed your hoodie and followed him, leaving the flickering fire and Tessa’s sharp tongue behind you.

The woods were quiet, lit only by the moon and the occasional flicker of firelight far behind you now. Gravel crunched beneath your boots as you and Jensen walked side by side along the narrow path toward where his car was parked. Ten minutes away, maybe less, but the silence between you felt loaded. Dense.

He glanced over at you with that easy, crooked grin. The one that usually had people melting. “So what”, he said lightly, “you decided to join the old man on a boring-ass beer run? Gotta say, didn’t peg you for the charity type”.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, your smile slower, darker than usual. Something sharper underneath. And your voice? Softer. Lower. Dangerous. “Who says it’s charity?”, you said, fingers brushing his arm just barely before dropping away like it hadn’t happened. “Maybe I just like watching you bend over the cooler”.

He blinked. Stopped walking for half a second.

You didn’t. You kept going, a ghost of a smirk playing on your lips. Your voice was still casual, like you were just talking about the weather. But it hit hard.

“Besides”, you added, glancing over your shoulder with a little sway in your hips you knew he was watching, “I figured maybe you’d finally do something after spending the whole damn evening staring at my tits”.

You didn’t turn around right away. You let the silence hang between you, thick and hot and thrumming with tension. Then, slowly, you looked back at him over your shoulder, brows raised just enough to tease. “Well?”, you said, voice like silk dipped in sin. “Was I wrong?”.

Jensen stood there, lips parted like he had something to say but forgot it halfway through the thought. His jaw flexed once, hands still in his pockets like he was physically keeping himself in check. You watched him wrestle with it. Desire and restraint and something heavier all tangled up in his chest.

“No”, he said finally, voice low and rough. “You weren’t wrong”.

You turned fully now, facing him beneath the moonlight, letting the moment breathe. “Then why haven’t you done anything?”, you asked.

Jensen didn’t move. His eyes were locked on yours now, and something in them had shifted, deeper, darker. Still careful, but charged like a storm rolling in just under the surface. “Because”, he said quietly, “you said you weren’t interested. And I’m not the guy who pushes when someone tells me no”.

You smiled at that, slow, sharp, knowing. You took a step closer, your voice a little softer, but just as cutting. “Maybe I want you to push me”.

His jaw clenched. He looked away for half a second, like he needed to find something to ground himself. Then his eyes snapped back to you, heat pulsing behind them. “You playing a game right now?”, he asked, voice rough around the edges. “Because if you are, it’s a dangerous one”.

You tilted your head, the truck now just a few steps ahead, its shadow stretching toward the gravel road like a quiet witness. “Only dangerous if you can’t keep up”, you murmured.

The truth curled like smoke in the back of your throat. You were playing dirty. You knew it. This wasn’t about heat or chemistry. It was about the idea that if you gave him what he clearly wanted, maybe you’d get the call. The callback. The break. He was a door. And you were desperate enough to walk through it.

You stepped into the shadow of the truck now, turning toward him with a look that was all challenge and heat and something just this side of reckless. “So what’s it gonna be, Jensen?”, you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen didn’t say a word, just exhaled slowly, like he was trying to breathe out the tension that had wrapped itself tight around his chest. His jaw was clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead as he slid behind the wheel. The truck door shut with a heavy thud, sealing the two of you inside that thick, humming silence.

You climbed in next to him, not a single ounce of hesitation in your movements. You didn’t speak either, not at first. Just reached down and peeled off your oversized hoodie, slow and deliberate, revealing nothing but the thin black bikini you’d been wearing underneath since before the bonfire ever started.

You leaned back, letting the soft leather of the seat kiss your bare skin.

He hadn’t moved. His hand hovered near the seatbelt buckle, but his eyes? His eyes were on you now. Wide, dark, unreadable, but definitely not uninterested.

You dragged your tongue over your bottom lip slowly, the way you knew he was watching, and offered a small, wicked smile. “Maybe”, you said, voice like honey and ash, “the beer run can wait”.

The muscles in his arms tensed, and he gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to self-control. He didn’t look away from you. Not this time. But something in his voice cracked through the tension, low and hoarse. “Tell me why you’re doing this”.

Your smile twitched, just for a second. The weight of his question hit harder than you expected, cutting a little too close to the truth buried beneath your carefully crafted act. But you caught yourself before it could show, before he could see it.

You tilted your head, the wicked smirk slipping back into place like armor. “Maybe”, you said, your voice light again, playful, just this side of dangerous, “I just realized I should give you a chance after all”.

And before he could say anything else, before he could dig deeper, ask again, wait for the real answer, you slid across the seat with slow, fluid confidence, straddling his lap like it was something you’d done before. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your knees on either side of his hips, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, resting there with a feather-light grip.

His breath hitched.

Your eyes locked with his, only inches apart now, your voice a low whisper as you leaned in. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”.

He didn’t answer. His hands were still on the steering wheel like he didn’t trust himself to move them. His jaw was tight. His eyes flicked between yours, searching. Testing.

And something in you still buzzed with the power of it all. You knew what you were doing. But maybe, just maybe, you wanted to believe the lie too.

You leaned in, so close your lips brushed the shell of his ear, your breath warm against his skin. “Touch me, Jensen”, you whispered, low and slow, laced with a softness that barely masked the bite underneath. “Make me feel how it is to be with someone more… experienced”.

His whole body tensed beneath you like a wire pulled tight, straining at its limit. You felt it in the way his thighs flexed under your legs, in the way his fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You knew the effect you had on him. You could feel it. But for a long moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The air inside the truck was stifling now, thick with heat and hesitation, desire and doubt battling in the space between your skin and his.

And then, finally, his hands dropped from the wheel. Slowly. Deliberately. They found your thighs, his fingers splaying across your bare skin with a grip that was firm but not rough, like he was still giving you time to change your mind, even if he was dangerously close to losing his own.

His voice was low, cracked with restraint. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart”.

You leaned in again, lips brushing his jaw this time, your mouth just shy of a kiss. “Maybe I want to get burned”.

The way his hands gripped your thighs tighter told you he was right there on the edge. But he still hadn’t kissed you. Not yet.

You didn’t wait for him to make the choice. You made it for him. Your hands slid up his chest, curling around the collar of his shirt, and you pulled him into you.

The kiss hit like a match strike, hot, immediate, undeniable.

He didn’t hesitate once your lips touched his. All that tension, all that restraint, it shattered the moment your mouth moved against his, slow at first, deliberate, but quickly deeper, rougher. Jensen kissed like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. No guessing, no hesitation. Just heat, pressure, the right amount of give. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to, like he’d been imagining it for far too long.

And you let yourself get lost in it.

You moved against him, your hands sliding down, fingertips catching the cool metal of his belt buckle. He didn’t stop you. Didn’t flinch. Just gripped your hips tighter as your fingers fumbled with the leather, working his jeans open beneath you, your pulse pounding as the kiss deepened again.

His breath hitched against your mouth, one hand slipping up your back, the other bracing at your waist as if he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or push you back.

You pressed in harder, your voice breathless between kisses. “Still think I’m not interested?”.

His reply was a low growl in the back of his throat. Half laugh, half warning.

You didn’t care. You weren’t here to be careful.

You pushed his jeans down with a slow, deliberate drag, your movements confident, calculated, yet trembling just slightly at the edges. There was still a part of you that couldn’t believe what you were doing. Not with him.

Jensen shifted beneath you, lifting his hips just enough to help, his breathing rough and uneven now, matching the pulse hammering in your ears. You felt his hands on your waist, his fingers digging in like he was anchoring himself, like if he didn’t hold on, he’d lose whatever shred of control he still had.

Then he reached over, opened the middle console, and pulled out a condom without a word. The sight of it, the silent preparation, hit you in a strange, electric way. This was real. This was happening.

But so was the reason behind it.

That part still lingered at the back of your mind, the voice that sounded a little too much like your own asking, What are you doing? Why are you doing it?

Jensen looked at you then, really looked. Not with heat this time. With something quieter. Softer. “Last chance”, he murmured, voice low. “You sure?”.

You hesitated. Just for a second. Then you nodded, but your eyes didn’t quite meet his. They dropped instead, your focus slipping lower, some part of you needing the distraction, needing to do something, to stay in motion. To avoid sitting still long enough to feel the weight of what this really was.

You watched as he rolled the condom on, and maybe it was instinct or maybe it was just part of the performance now, but you leaned in again, pressing kisses to his neck, soft and messy, like you could erase the tension starting to crawl up the back of your throat.

But Jensen didn’t rush. Not like you.

For him, this wasn’t a means to an end. It wasn’t transactional. It wasn’t about control or payback or making something broken feel whole for just a minute. He’d spent too many nights thinking about you, really thinking. About your laugh. Your sharp tongue. The way you held back, and the way you didn’t.

This wasn’t a fantasy for him anymore. It was real. And you were here. But you weren’t with him. Not the way he’d imagined it.

You were all fire and speed and recklessness, and underneath it… gone.

His hand came up, gently catching your chin to tilt your face toward his. Not rough. Not possessive.

His hand was still at your chin, eyes locked with yours, searching for some sign that you were really present. But you were already moving again, already pulling your swimsuit aside, already reaching for him with that same urgent energy, like if you stopped for too long, you’d have to feel something deeper. Something you weren’t ready for.

“Wait—”, he started, the warning barely out of his mouth before you lowered yourself down onto him too fast.

Your breath hitched. A sharp sound. Your body froze.

The stretch hit you hard, deeper, wider than you’d expected, and it stopped the rhythm in your chest for a beat, leaving only the sound of your own gasp in the close, heated air of the truck.

Jensen’s hands immediately found your waist, grounding you, steadying you, even as his brows pulled together with concern.

“Easy”, he murmured, voice low and calm despite the tension in his jaw.

The burn was sharp. Immediate. It took your breath away in a way you hadn’t prepared for, your body tight around him, too tight. It felt like he’d split you in half, like he didn’t just take up space, he claimed it.

You masked it, like you’d learned to mask everything else. Pain. Rejection. Fear. You curled it into a smirk, wore it like confidence, and tilted your head down to look at him with that same glint you’d given him all night.

“Shit”, you muttered, your voice laced with breathless bravado. “You trying to set a new record for ruining girls for anyone else?”.

Jensen’s fingers twitched at your waist, but he didn’t laugh. Didn’t feed into it. His eyes were still locked on you, and beneath all the heat… he looked worried.

And that made something twist deep in your chest.

“Relax”, you said, breathless but teasing, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair. “I’m good”.

You weren’t lying, at least not entirely. The worst of the burn had passed. Your muscles were adjusting, tension giving way to something more bearable. Something doable. The sting was still there, but you could handle it now. You always could.

Jensen searched your face like he didn’t believe you, not fully. But he didn’t stop you either. His grip on your hips tightened, not in demand, but in quiet desperation. His voice came out rough, strained, like he was wrestling against his own instincts. “Slow down”, he murmured, barely audible, like saying it too loud would crack something open between you. “Please”.

You didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, you moved your hips again. Slower this time, but deeper, more controlled. The kind of motion that wasn’t frantic or wild, but deliberate. Sensual. Purposeful. Like you were making a point with every shift of your body against his.

He groaned, really groaned, his head falling back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he let himself feel it. Just feel you.

You felt the change in him instantly. The way his body began to move with yours, no longer just holding back, but joining you in it. Matching your rhythm, responding to the tension and release you gave him with every breath, every subtle shift.

His hands slid from your hips to your lower back, fingers splayed wide, grounding you both in the moment. No more resistance. No more hesitation. Just this.

For a brief second, it felt like something more than heat. It felt like something was breaking through. But you didn’t let yourself think about that. Not now. Not yet. Because thinking meant feeling and you weren’t ready for that.

His lips found your neck. Slow, soft, almost reverent. A complete contrast to the tension that had built between you earlier. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to take his time now that you were here, now that you’d let him in, even if only physically.

You felt his fingers shift at your back, carefully finding the thin straps of your bikini top. He didn’t yank or tear, he eased them down with quiet precision, like it mattered. Like you mattered. And when the fabric gave, sliding off your shoulders, he didn’t rush to touch. He just looked. And then, low and rough in your ear, he whispered, “You’re so damn beautiful”.

Your breath caught. It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he said them. Like he meant it. Like he saw through you. Not the act, not the armor. You. And for a split second, it scared you. Because despite how your mind tried to twist this into something transactional, something you could file away as a calculated move, your body wasn’t listening. Your body was craving him. Every inch of him. Every stroke, every breath, every low sound he made when you moved just right.

And shit, he felt good. Better than anyone you’d ever been with. Not just in size, in rhythm. In how he responded. In how he read you, matched you. He knew what he was doing. And it was wrecking you.

But still, you kept up the act, because that’s what you were best at.

You kissed him hard again, fingers in his hair, and didn’t say the truth out loud: That this was the best you’d ever felt.

Jensen’s grip on your hips shifted, just slightly, but it was all it took. His hands, large and sure, angled you exactly how he wanted, guiding you with a quiet precision that sent sparks through your spine. Every motion, every shift in pressure, hit you where it mattered.

“Just like that”, he murmured against your skin, his voice low, gravel-edged, but laced with something almost tender. “You feel so fuckin’ good”.

You bit your lip, trying not to let the sound that wanted to escape actually happen. You needed to stay in control. This wasn’t about being swept away. This was about you getting something for once, something back for all the work, all the no’s, all the being-overlooked. That was the goal. That had to be the goal.

But then his hands slid up your body again, one settling under your jaw, the other cupping your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple with just enough pressure to make your breath catch. He kneaded gently, exactly the way your body craved without ever asking, and kissed your collarbone like he meant it.

“You’re so damn perfect like this”, he whispered. “I swear, I could stay here forever”.

And that threw you off more than anything else. Because no one said things like that. Not to you. Not and meant them. Your pace faltered. Just for a second.

But Jensen didn’t push. He just held you tighter. “Don’t overthink it”, he murmured, brushing his lips along your shoulder. “Just feel”.

You’d never had it, not like this. Not from someone else. You’d always needed your own hands, your own rhythm, your own mind focused enough to coax that release. Sex with someone else had always been just a body thing, heat, movement, distraction. Never the full collapse.

But with Jensen? You didn’t even see it coming.

It crashed into you like a wave breaking over your skin, sudden and impossible to stop. Your body clenched, every nerve sparking as the pressure inside you snapped wide open, your moan loud and raw and unfiltered as you shook, hard, hands flying to his shoulders and gripping him like you might fall apart otherwise.

Jensen stilled, just for a beat, as if stunned by the way you unraveled in his arms. His mouth parted slightly, his eyes locked on your face like he couldn’t look away. You didn’t see him, not through the haze of it, but if you had, you would’ve seen it. Wonder. Reverence. Maybe even something like awe.

Because watching you like that, completely undone, bare, real, hit him somewhere deeper than he was prepared for. And it tipped him right over the edge too. He followed you into it, groaning your name under his breath, hands gripping your hips like they were the only thing anchoring him to this moment.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with steam and sweat and something far more dangerous than either of you had bargained for.

You were still catching your breath, chest rising and falling against his, your skin flushed, damp, and humming with the aftershocks. Your legs trembled where they straddled him, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes yet. Not fully.

Because you felt it. The shift. The way his hands had softened their grip. The way his thumb brushed slow circles against your hip like he didn’t want to let go. And when you did glance up, even for a flicker, you saw it.

He looked at you like a man who was in fucking love. And that scared you more than anything.

Before he could speak, before he could say something that might ruin it, or worse, try to make it real, you leaned in fast, catching his mouth in a kiss that was all heat and teeth. Less about tenderness, more about distraction. You let your lips trail along his jaw, your voice low, teasing, almost cruel in its casual delivery.

“Guess that experience thing really paid off”. It was a line. A mask. One final act to keep the truth from settling in too deep.

You climbed off him before he could respond, moving quickly, too quickly, back into the passenger seat. The cool air against your skin made you shiver as you grabbed your hoodie and started pulling your bikini back into place.

Next to you, Jensen said nothing. Just the sound of his jeans being zipped, the shift of leather as he adjusted.

The truck hummed beneath you, gravel crunching softly under the tires as the headlights cut through the dark stretch of road. You stared out the window, the night pressing in on all sides, your hoodie pulled halfway over your legs but still unzipped, cooling the warmth that still clung to your skin.

Jensen hadn’t said a word since you climbed back into the passenger seat. His hand rested loosely on the wheel, knuckles flexing every so often like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the silence.

He cleared his throat, soft, almost hesitant, like he was trying to sound casual, even though you could feel how much it wasn’t. “So”, he started, voice low and careful, like he was tiptoeing across a minefield, “am I getting a yes to that drink now? The date?”.

You turned your head slowly, keeping your expression unreadable. A beat passed. Then you shrugged, keeping it cool, light. Like your legs hadn’t just been wrapped around him minutes ago. Like you didn’t feel that vulnerable hum still buzzing somewhere under your skin. “Sure”, you said. “Why not?”. You didn’t smile when you said it. Not really. It was the kind of answer that sounded like a win but didn’t feel like one.

Jensen glanced at you. Just for a second. And you could see the flicker of something in his expression, relief, maybe. Or confusion. Because for a man who’d just made you fall apart in his lap, he suddenly looked like someone who wasn’t sure where he stood.

You turned your gaze back to the window, pressing your cheek against the glass. Outside, the road kept stretching on. Inside, neither of you spoke again, at least not yet.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 4

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theresattrpgforthat · 6 months ago

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I love the idea of mega dungeons but I don't have a consistent group. Are there any games for doing mega dungeons in a zoomed out way? I'm thinking that you might deal with a room in as little as a single dice roll, and get through multiple trips into the dungeon in a single session of play.

The interesting thing about a mega dungeon to me is how it changes and evolves over repeated delves.

I could probably build a PBTA system but hopefully someone already has.

THEME: Sped-Up Mega Dungeons

Hello friend, I have a few different things that you might find helpful in speeding through dungeons and getting as much game as you can packed into just a few hours! I focused mostly on games that did dungeon-ing quick, less so on actual mega-dungeons. Also, sadly nothing here is PbtA.

WanderSquares: The Underwood Tunnels, by Dreamjar.

WanderSquares is a fantasy table-top roleplaying game for adventurers 9 and up. It features an ever-changing map, a choose-your-path adventure guide and 16 inspiring characters to choose from.

The WanderSquares map is made up of 32 interlocking Adventure Squares. Each square is a tiny story; with monsters, puzzles and treasure. The map grows in endless combinations with each new direction the players choose. Three Special Squares contain major magic items (and mini-bosses). Recover the treasure and you'll unlock the final challenge.

I don’t know exactly how long it takes to explore each square in Wandersquares, but I think it has two big strengths. The first is that it is designed to be simple, because it has kids in mind, so learning the game should be easy and quick. The second is that the adventure locations come in tiles that you can place out as you explore, with a choose-your-own adventure guide you can use to narrate each option quickly. Even if you don’t like the base system, having these location tools can be a big help in streamlining the dungeon, because all of the information is already there, including some imagery on the tiles that can be very evocative for the players.

Dungeoneering, by Grinning Rat.

DUNGEONEERING is a quick-and-dirty tabletop role-playing game where players explore dungeons, gather treasure, and fight monsters. Game Masters are encouraged to use the sample dungeon within, or generate their own with the creation tools, to facilitate these dangerous delves.

Dungeoneering sells itself as a quick-play game, slimming dungeon crawls into something called dungeon turns. You can explore one room of the dungeon in each dungeon turn, with checkpoints every 2, 12 and 24 turns to replenish torches, eat & drink, and rest.

I do think that Dungeoneering could be a more slowed-down game if you paused to roleplay more often, but rules-as-written, you’re rolling for simple pass or fail, and hit points are fairly low, reminiscent of what I see in gritty OSR-style dungeon games. The game comes with a starter dungeon, but it also has tables to help the GM build a dungeon on their own - whichever way you decide to go, I think that if you’re going to try and speed-run the dungeon, you definitely need to have the dungeon mapped out ahead of time, or you’ll slow the game down simply because generating rooms takes time.

Dungeon Dash, by Cosmic Sorcery Society.

Dive into the Dungeon Gig Economy!

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In Mythica, dungeons are no longer treasure troves for heroes. They're monster-infested labyrinths, a constant threat to the cities and a source of risky, yet potentially lucrative, gigs for the daring.

Become a DungeonDasher! Team up with fellow adventurers and delve into the depths, slaying slimes, dodging traps, and cashing in with DungeonCoin (Ɖ), the hot new crypto that's making waves.

Described as “fast and furious”, DungeonDash sounds like it can be played in very short bursts. If you decide to use it to play a longer game, I’d reason that you can then go through quite a few dungeon rooms in just an hour, perfect for one-shots. Because it’s meant to be played in short bursts, I don’t know how much of the game focuses on how the dungeon changes over time - that might have to be an aspect that you as the GM bring to your table from somewhere else.

Out of the Dungeon by @toyourstations.

You have arrived at a dungeon rumoured to contain the secrets of a civilisation of wizards thought to be long perished. Your party has reason to believe that they are not – in fact you have reason to believe they are behind everything wrong with your world.

Your world is illogical. You didn’t know it as you grew up but the older you got and the more you travelled, the more you began to see the oddities. Monsters spring from nowhere to attack villages. Bandits haunt every road but don’t seem to live anywhere, or steal anything to eat. Rangers insist there simply isn’t the ecosystem to support the dragon in the mountains. And then there’s the occasional odd flicker of the sky, a mosaic of quickly shifting squares flittering across your vision like lights dancing on the ceiling of the world.

Out of the Dungeon uses a deck of cards to help generate the rooms that your adventurers move through. More than any of the other games on this list, I think Out of the Dungeon has the capacity to give you the feeling of changing the dungeon as you venture through it, because your characters need the dungeon to change if they’re going to escape it. It’s still in a pretty rough ash-can place, but I think the ideas behind it are pretty resonant with what you’re looking to achieve.

A Golden Flame, by Mundos Infinitos.

A Pamphlet TTRPG adventure where you explore dungeons and survive the Dungeon Master. Based on a Whim-based system, this game is classic-style, not OSR, and is easy to learn, play and hack.

A short pamphlet game, A Golden Flame doesn’t come with a pre-generated dungeon, but it does come with dungeon generation tools that the GM can take advantage of during their prep. A unique game system for this game is called Whims - a resource that is given to everyone at the beginning of the game, and can be used by players to level up, expand the world, conjure magic, or engineer a lucky circumstance.The GM uses Whims to eliminate people or things precious to the players, change how effective an action is, create custom challenges, etc.

I’m not so sure I’m a fan of the rules that penalize players for poor table manners by giving the GM more in-game powers - I’m a believer that out-of-game faux pas are best met with out-of-game responses, rather than in-game punishments, but I do like the idea of giving the GM visible currency to give them a reason to generate challenges for the characters.

Overpowered, by Technical Grimoire Games.

Overpowered is a solo framework for speedrunning your favorite tabletop rpg adventures. Manage your power, choose your path, and perfect your strategy. Achieve a high score and dominate the online leaderboards. Try the demo adventure for free right now!

Overpowered converts adventures from various ttrpgs into something that can be played through solo, using specific pieces of information as challenges that your character will have to overcome. The game seems to work best with pre-written dungeons, and rewards play that is cautious but ambitious. If you have a lot of adventure modules that have creatures, treasure, and puzzles, you can probably speedrun them using Overpowered.

Overpowered is also probably the most professional-looking game on this list, and that's simply because Technical Grimoire really knows what they're doing when it comes to making a nice-looking product.

Bite-Sized Dungeon by @sprintingowl.

Bite-Sized Dungeon is a 9 page tabletop adventure game that you can play with absolutely no equipment.

You can use it to dive a forbidden ruin, fight monsters, steal treasure, and hightail it back to safety---all in the time it takes for your pizza to arrive, or for the bus to show up, or for the doors to open at the convention hall.

Use your hands to resolve checks, play modules from other systems with very little trouble, and hack to add in additional content.

Bite-Sized Dungeon uses some very simple rules to determine whether or not your adventure succeeds or fails in any given action, and has a simple way to keep track of your health - you can get Squashed five times before you’re eliminated, and you need a new adventurer. The game is designed to be able to be played anywhere, which is useful for the players, but I’m not sure how well you’d be able to play the dungeons on the go, unless the dungeon master has either a printed reference or a very very good memory. I do appreciate that the game has links to 5 different dungeon modules that you can use with this game, or any other dungeon game!

You can also check out the Remastered version of Bite-Sized Dungeon if you want to see what the author’s been doing with the game recently.

Also…

If you want more Dungeon games, I recommend checking out some of my following recommendation posts:

Fantasy - With Tools

Modern Magic

Crunchy Dark Fantasy

Echoes of D&D

I also think Planet Dungeon does some great dungeon-crawling stuff.

If you like what I do, you can leave a tip at my Ko-fi page <3.

#dungeon crawling #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

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