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catlvrmax · 6 months

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LOST IN THE PADDOCK.

MV1 X FEM!READER

summary getting lost in the paddock and bumping into the current world champion was definitely not on your bingo card.

cw amara is the only oc, no use of y/n. this is my first time writing rpf since middle school, so bear with me. ALSO, this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

face claims girls on pinterest but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want.

masterlist | taglist

—

"Ah, fuck," you mumble to yourself, panickedly walking away from the direction you came from while also looking for your best friend.

You call her name a few times in hopes of her popping her head out of the Ferrari building's corner but to no avail. The group and guides you had been with are nowhere to be found, and you have to avoid bumping into employees wearing the entire rainbow as they hurry around you.

You curse the moment you decided to enter the giveaway for those tickets. Although you weren't a Formula One fan, simply because you never fully listened to Amara's ramblings and analysis, when you stumbled across a giveaway of otherwise very expensive tickets, you didn't hesitate to enter it. Despite entering for her, you kept it a secret. The list of entries was long, and the odds were not in your favour, so you didn't want to get her hopes up. You couldn't contain the bubbling excitement when you got the e-mail verifying your win for two Paddock Club tickets for the Spanish Grand Prix.

After announcing it to your obsessed-with-cars best friend, you decided to make it a five-day trip, planning to sightsee Barcelona before the race weekend and spend a free day after it. The first day had been great, albeit tiring, but you had woken up the next day buzzing with anticipation to walk around the paddock. You were the assigned photographer, as you knew Amara would want to listen to everything the guide said. You were content with taking pictures of the place and her.

Until now. You were definitely not happy with being the camera guy. Because of that, you'd just lost your group in the middle of God-knows-where, with no idea where the building you came from was. So immersed in your grumbling and reading the map on your phone- you collide with someone. Your phone and water bottle slip from your fingers, and the tote bag slips from your shoulder to your elbow. You hiss at the sudden weight shift.

The smell of rich cologne enters your nostrils, but you don't dare look up. Your cheeks burn. "Sorry." You bend down to grab your things.

The man seems to have the same idea, as seconds later, he's on his knees and gathering his things before you can reach them. "No, it's alright! I wasn't looking where I was going."

He extends his full hands with a smile, and you return a sheepish one before grabbing your things. You take a second to look at him. He wears a Red Bull cap and T-shirt, looking like everyone who hurriedly passed you with papers and phones in their hands. I should ask him for directions. He looks like he knows the place.

"Uh...Is there any way you saw a group of people with guides walking around here? I'm supposed to be with them, but I kinda lost them." You lift the camera, further explaining why you're separated from them.

He can't help but chuckle at your flushed cheeks. "Unfortunately, no," he pauses. "Are you here for the weekend?" You nod. "Haven't they given you a map, then? They usually do, to avoid people getting lost."

You show him your phone. Your fingers brush as he pulls it closer to look at the map. "Yeah, they have. But I can't figure it out. Kind of my first time coming to something like this."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the phone. "Really?" He sounds surprised. He shouldn't.

You looked out of place compared to the rich-as-fuck members of your group. You had no idea how people dressed for these occasions. Even Amara didn't really know what to pack, so you both agreed to wear comfortable clothes. With the race being during June and in Spain, you would rather be comfortable than sweaty. The only thing tying you to the group was the Paddock Club pass you wore around your neck.

"My best friend is really into this. Loves the sport. I won us the tickets, but I'm barely grasping the basics." You laugh, and he joins. You like the way his eyes crease when he smiles wide.

"Oh, you're the ones that won the tickets! Someone told me about that, I think. Congrats!" You thank him. "How's your weekend so far?"

You shrug. "T'was really fun. Until I got lost while taking pictures of the Ferrari building." He snorts.

Leaning next to him, you try to follow his finger as he scrolls around the zoomed-in map. "You figured it out yet?"

"I think I have, yeah." He shows you the phone. "We're here. The garages are right there. You'll be watching the race on the floor above them." You nod, slowly grasping your surroundings. Turns out it's easier to figure it out when you're not panicking and a handsome stranger is helping you. "You got it?"

You flash a bright smile. "Yeah, actually, I think I do!" You look at him. "Thank you!"

He shrugs. "No problem. I know it's easy to get lost, especially with so many people running around."

"Still. Thank you. You probably have to be somewhere, and I took up a lot of your time." You step back, turning in the direction he'd shown you.

"Don't worry about it." He fixes his hair under the cap.

"Thanks again." You wave and turn to leave.

"Hey, I forgot to ask you." You turn, confused. "What team are you supporting tomorrow?"

Oh, shit.

It's like a deer caught in headlights situation. You suddenly forget all ten names of the racing teams, desperately racking your brain for an answer. You swear you know all ten.

"Uh..." you nervously clench and unclench your water bottle. "Ferrari?" It's more of a question rather than a statement.

He laughs, and your cheeks return to their warm state. Bad answer?

"Ferrari?" He asks as if saying really? You shrug, and he huffs a laugh.

"I told you I'm not good at this!"

You hear a shout and simultaneously turn to see a man in a Red Bull shirt beckoning him over.

"I have to go. But you should watch out for the Red Bulls. I hear they got the better cars!" He winks and waves before walking away from you.

You roll your eyes and smile wide on your lips. Of course, he'd tell you to cheer for his team. The back of your hand touches your cheek. It's incredibly warm. You blame it on the hot weather.

—

"I'm telling you, mate! She had no idea who I was!"

Lando rolls his eyes. "And I'm telling you there's no way. Your face is plastered everywhere."

It's Charles's turn to roll his eyes. "Or maybe she was more worried about finding a way back than asking for pictures."

"Yeah, maybe she was being polite. Didn't want to attract any attention to you." Albon adds.

Max shrugs. "I don't know."

"Was she pretty?" Oscar elbows Lando's ribs, as the latter can't contain his giggle.

Max's neck flushes. He shrugs again. "Yeah, I guess."

"Ohhhhh!" George and Lando pat him on the back teasingly, and Charles laughs at Max's expression.

Before they can tease him about this mystery girl more, a woman wearing a headset informs them they have to part ways and get ready for qualifying.

—

"And Fernando was so bloody nice, too! He was more than happy to sign the cap for you!" Amara waved her hands excitedly as she recounted everything you missed while lost.

You sat near the windows overlooking the pits, watching as the teams got their cars ready for qualifying, far away from the TVs and the crowded tables, not wanting to converse with anyone but your best friend. You chewed on your extremely expensive pasta, intently listening to her meet-up with some of the drivers.

"I can't believe you met the only driver I know," you whined, lips pouting sadly.

"I swear I didn't realise you were gone until they stopped us to greet the drivers. I was fully into that tyre explanation the guide was giving."

"Gee, thanks." You smile, giving her the middle finger.

"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that. Without you, I wouldn't even be doing the stuff we did today." Amara pulls on your middle finger, and you both giggle.

"So, tell me what you did when you were alone," she urges, sipping her drink.

"You mean when you left me wandering like I was looking for my mother?" She gives you a pointed look. You shrug. "I stopped a Red Bull guy to give me directions. He was helpful and cute. Also took some pictures while I was making my way back here."

"Oh, was he a mechanic or what?"

"I don't know. Didn't catch his name." You smile as you recount his advice. "He told me to look out for the Red Bulls because they have fast cars."

"Well, he's not wrong."

You finish your food and drinks, chatting until qualifying is about to begin. You sit on the balcony, watching the cars drive on the track. You get settled, watching the small screen in front of you, commentary loud in the headset you wear. Qualifying goes by quickly, with Amara explaining things you don't understand and you nodding along.

It's no surprise—in Amara's words—that Max Verstappen came first in his Red Bull. He's the one dominating this season, after all. Second comes Carlos Sainz, and third place takes Lando Norris. Your best friend cheers a little more for him. You shoot her a look, and she just shrugs. "What? He's fast, and he's handsome." You laugh.

You decide to leave before others, not stick around for post-qualifying interviews. Although there's a great chance you can catch drivers, take pictures and get them to sign autographs, you're both far too exhausted to stay. There's always tomorrow, Amara says, and you agree.

You're looking through the Uber app to find a car available to take you back to your hotel when you hear Amara all but screech beside you. You look up, watching as she runs towards a wall decorated with a gigantic poster of three drivers. You recognise Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc and...Oh, shit.

"Can you take a picture here," she calls your name pleadingly.

Your eyes are wide and glued to the tall poster, even as you pull the camera up to your face. You snap a couple of pictures before Amara walks back to you. Her wide smile falters as she watches you stare at the poster intensely. You rack your brain for his name and know that you should know it. Amara has mentioned it before, but you just can't put your finger on it. He's in Red Bull, so it's either Checo Perez or—

"Is that Verstappen?" You point to him.

"Yep. Two-time world champion." Amara looks at the poster and then back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you looking at him like that?"

"He's the guy from earlier."

"What?!"

—

yourusername

liked by amaraiscool, yourmom, and 167 others.

tagged amaraiscool

yourusername chatted with a guy today, turns out he's the current world champion.

view all comments

amaraiscool i can't believe you met max verstappen

> yourusername amaraiscool i cant believe you let me get lost

amaraiscool and i can't believe you didnt recognise him.

> yourusername amaraiscool hes cuter in person, too bad you didn't get to see him :))

yourfriend1 THE DRESS IS SO CUTE, AMARA WTF DROP THE STORE!!!!!!

liked by yourusername

yourfriend2 johns freaking out rn lol

> yourusername yourfriend2 AW, i bet hes not being as dramatic as amaraiscool was when i told her :,)

> amaraiscool yourusername met THE max verstappen.

—

"You should totally text him," Amara says between bites.

She offers you a piece of chocolate, and you offer her a bewildered look. The hotel room's TV is playing a random spanish show, but with no subtitles, you can barely grasp what they're saying. Amara is scrolling on TikTok beside you.

"Text who?" You already know who.

"The two-time world champion. Duh." She rolls her eyes.

Amara hadn't stopped talking about the Max interaction since you'd pointed at his gigantic poster. The more she spoke on it, wiggling her eyebrows, the more you blushed. She had gone over a thousand scenarios, all of which you ended up hooking up with him. You had to remind her that despite his popularity, he was a stranger to you.

"I don't have his number, 'mara. I told you he just helped me find my way."

She flicks your forehead. "That's what Insta is for!"

"No."

"But why!?" Amara whines in your ear loudly, like a child when you take their candy away.

"It's weird! He's cute and all," you sit up, pointing your finger up," but he doesn't know my name," you put another one up, "he'll think I'm creepy," you point a third one, "and that is if he sees the requested message."

"Uh, you're ruining my scenario-building process."

"That's what Tumblr is for. Leave my quiet, boring life out of this." You dramatically sigh.

"Isn't that how all fanfiction starts? Boring and quiet life turned upside down?" Amara tilts her head.

"I don't know, 'ave never read any." You shrug, lips pursing.

She huffs a laugh, and you hold in yours. "Liar."

There's a pause. You think over Amara's suggestion. Max Verstappen is cute. And it wouldn't hurt to try and get his number. You'd never see him again after this weekend. And the worst he could say is: "Security, please get her out of here!"

What the fuck am I thinking? He's a literal superstar. Me bumping into him was a one-time thing.

Ah, fuck it. It's not the end of the world.

"You know what?" Amara turns to look at you. "If I get the chance tomorrow, I'll talk to him. Try and get his number."

Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "What?"

"I mean, I'm never seeing again? Right? It could go either way. He doesn't call for security to escort me like I'm crazy fangirl, or he does, and we pray no cameras recorded the moment."

Amara shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but she can barely hold her wide smile. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Not much of a plan. I'm just indulging in your delusions."

You share a laugh before you fall back in bed beside her. You shuffle closer to your best friend's side, eager to watch the TikTok edit she is staring intensely at.

"Oh, look, it's your future boyfriend!"

"Shut up."

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forcemeanakin · 6 months

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Right where you left me.

•WARNINGS: Angst. Situationship. May trigger people with abandonment issues or that have intimacy problems. Not technically cheating, but it may be triggering. Anakin's a douche bag.

Pairing: au!Anakin Skywalker x you!reader.

Summary: Anakin decides to pursue things outside of your relationship, breaking your heart in the process.

Word count: 1.7k.

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao.

☽⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✺⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☾

You ran into the coffee shop, in a hurry, which is a normal state for you and your continuous tardiness. “Fuck.” You muttered under your breath as you forced the door open with unnecessary strength.

Anakin must’ve been waiting for half an hour now.

On your tippy toes, you scanned the room, looking for the golden curls to stand out from a booth.

Bingo.

Trying to hide your excitement, you rushed to the table where your -relatively- new thing was waiting for you. You cursed your bag for making so much noise and told yourself off for packing so much shit. Maybe there was no need to bring all the stuff with you, but you couldn’t help yourself in your excitement to show Anakin all of the activities you had planned for you two and the remaining part of the summer.

“Hey.” You whispered loud enough for him to listen to you, but your shortness of breath didn’t go unnoticed by him. He gave you a toothless smile as you sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry I’m late, I was at work and my manager-” You didn’t finish the sentence, instead, your face let him know everything he needed.

“Don’t sweat. I haven’t waited long. Five minutes to be exact.” He checked his phone carelessly.

Oh.

“Training ran long?” You hoped.

“Oh, no, just ran a little late.” He shrugged his shoulders. Like it was of no importance.

At least you felt ashamed for being late. He didn’t seem to carry the same guilt.

Sometimes Anakin did this thing that stung your heart a little. His number one priority had always been him. And when you agreed to try things with him, you knew that was implied in the contract. Part of you had been hoping that you were going to be the reason that changed.

So far, you had failed in your mission.

“Oh, right.” You tried to fake a smile.

“And how’s life outside of work, baby?”

And just like that, your heart felt a little lighter and spark returned to your face. Especially when he reached out to hold your hand and play with your fingers. Especially when he used that nickname that you loved and you hadn’t heard in a while from his lips.

“It’s fine. My summer classes are always boring.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at the end because he knew how much you hated to take extra courses.

“I told you to give yourself some time off in the summer.” He raised his eyebrow.

“I know, I know…” You huffed. “Actually, I’ve been working on that.” You smiled, turning to your bag and taking some of the things you packed.

Tickets for one of your favorite movies, that he insisted he wanted to watch with you. It made you smile so hard when he had proposed that plan, given that he was aware how much that franchise meant to you.

You also took out some coins for the local fair, the one you two had walked by and promised to do that as your next date.

The brand new control for your gaming console you had just bought to join him in video games because he said he wanted to share that without you. He seemed pretty excited to do that as an activity together and he even listed all of the games you might like.

And right when you were about to take the keys of your summer house out, to hint him that you were ready to take the next step in your relationship, he stopped you.

Anything intimate always made you nervous, even when you two were in the middle of it. It was a very vulnerable space for you and Anakin was your first in many things. It was normal for you to still be adapting to it.

But you wanted to try. For you.

For him.

As a more experienced person than you, Anakin had needs. Needs that you sometimes failed to meet. That even though he was patient, you could feel how your lack of confidence sometimes bugged him. Not in an explicit manner, just… the occasional huff when he tried something experimental in bed or when you started to psych yourself out of the make out session.

Any other person would have already left, but Anakin was your friend first and he was well aware of your uptight personality way before the two of you agreed to be friends with benefits. He knew what he was getting into and he was actually glad to help you experiment with that part of yourself you normally hid.

So your demonstration of being an organized and planning psycho was nothing new to him.

“Hey, hey…” He slowed you down, barely gazing the things on the table and fixing his eyes on yours. “Before you get started, I wanted to talk to you.”

His serious tone alerted you. But you weren’t surprised. Something inside of you had been alerting you all weekend. You thought it was your well-known anxiety. However, this felt unusual. Like his habitual ghosting and lack of response for the past few days meant different things this time.

“Sure.” You took a deep breath, trying to make it not so obvious. “Go ahead.” You nodded with a little smile trying to appear serene.

“So, sorry for not replying to your texts this weekend. I was out in nature, thinking and connecting, you know?” He tilted his head, his eyes looking for some compassion out of you.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You rushed the words when the silence dipped between you two, part of it your fault because you were too worried with your sinking heart.

You could understand a little impromptu retreat, you only wished it wasn’t right after you did some pretty intimate stuff back at your house. That last day you two crossed more boundaries than ever before. And even though you highly enjoyed it, his absence after that had you feeling nauseous, making you overthink and regret your decision of not giving him your virginity right in that opportunity. Maybe he would have shown more interest if you would have-

“So…Uhm… I think we should stop hanging out.”

Your heart was down by your feet when he pronounced those words. You tried with all your soul to control your trembling hands that lied in between his palms so he didn’t notice how he was ripping you apart. Your irregular breath threatened to put you on blast but you managed to keep it on the low.

“It’s not about you, seriously. I love hanging out with you and spending time with you, among other stuff.” He chuckled lightly, but instead of following his action, you released the breath you were holding. “But I’ve been talking to this girl and I just want to make sure that everything is working out with her. Emotionally.”

The sting in your eyes only grew bigger as you realized how embarrassing and heart shattering this moment was for you. Your cheeks felt hot and tight, something you tried hard to disguise with a breezy exterior.

Like a flash, you remembered the day both of you talked about the rules of your agreement. You kicked yourself mentally when you reminisced of the moment where both of you agreed to let the other one know if they wanted to pursue something with someone else. You had said yes, in the expectation that his constant checking in on you and daily talks was enough proof of interest. Meaning that he would not be looking outside of your “situationship” .

And you agreed, because that was your case. You were interested enough.

“You let me know if you want to see another guy, okay?”

You could almost laugh at such stupid idea. Didn’t he know?

“I think it’s better if we stop talking, so I can figure out things with her.” He scrunched his nose, like he was running out of words.

But how many words do you actually need to let someone know you don’t want them? He didn’t need much more. You’ve gotten the message.

“It’s nothing definitive, but yeah… Let me know if you have any questions.” He gave you a side smile, still fidgeting with your frozen-in-place fingers.

That took you out of the slow motion trance you were in.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You took your hands out of his quickly, blinking quickly into realization. You started to rush everything back in your purse, screaming the word “Stupid!” over and over again in your head while you carried on with a calm expression. “Do not worry about me. No questions on my part. Thanks for letting me know.”

I guess.

“Totally agree with not talking anymore.” You finally stopped for a second after pushing all of the items on your tote bag. He seemed to be analyzing your expression in search of any sign of real approval, because your shy and cold body language wasn’t reassuring him. So you put on your bravest face and forced a smile. “I hope everything turns out great with her.”

Speaking those words felt like hot iron was passing through your throat.

He gave you an honest smile and got up, taking his jacket with him. “Thank you. And thanks for understanding.”

You stayed frozen in place, your purse on your lap with your hands clutching it so hard you could feel your nails through the fabric. You limited yourself to nodding quietly and letting the side of your mouth curve slightly up.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay-” He began explaining his sudden escape.

“Don’t be. Don’t worry about me. ” You dismissed. “I’ll just stay and have lunch.” You took the menu and fixed your gaze on the listed items, anything that wouldn’t be his eyes.

He excused himself off the table politely, leaving you all alone and speechless. You glued your eyes to his back until he exited through the door, begging silently that he would turn around and say something else. Something that would pull you back into his life.

It seemed like that wasn’t his plan.

“I know I shouldn’t look for you for sexual stuff, but can I contact you for friend stuff?”

The text arrived that Saturday at 1am, 5 days later, erasing any progress you had done.

The day of his usual drunken nights.

Right around the time he used to get bored and there wasn't anything left to smoke.

Exactly at the time he would always contact you.

And you?

You were still at the restaurant. Unable to move.

Every day since that day.

Right where he left you.

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars #sw anakin #anakin #anakin skywalker smut #fanfic #anakin au #anakin x reader #anakin x you #angst #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker blog #tcw anakin #situationships

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yeollie-plz · 6 months

Text

Watch It Spark | LTF Part: 2

mbf! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Part 1

Synopsis: Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

Genre: fluff, angst, and smut! the trifecta!

Warnings: divorced parents, mentions of cheating, no Sarah, no outbreak, drinking, age gap (reader is said to be in college but Joel's exact age isn't stated), Tommy's a bit of a sleaze, kissing, 18+ content, p in v sex, (un)protected sex!, lots of different sexual acts, cursing, light breeding kink mention, cockwarming?

All gif credits to owners!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I don't wanna make excuses but on top of being super busy, I also had severe writer's block. But! Here she is! Just in time for Pedro's birthday!!!

"Shit." Joel's voice sounded out behind you.

Turning, incredulously to him, "Shit? That's all you have to say?" Not even sure what to say yourself.

"I'm sorry baby, but I don't know what else to say. I think shit actually might be the perfect sentiment in this situation." There's a bit of playfulness laced in his voice as he crosses the room to you. But the fun drops as he locks eyes with you, grabbing your hands while rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs in a comforting gesture.

"Are you okay?"

Not sure what else to do, you nod.

"I mean it was inevitable, I just didn't think she would find out like this. Thought maybe I'd be able to ease her into it...maybe...I don't know."

Joel nods as you speak, “You’ll figure it out and she’ll come around, I’m sure. Whatever happens though, I’m right here.”

When you don’t say anything, Joel uses two fingers lift up your chin so your eyes now meet his. You see the certainty in them and he repeats, “I’m right here.”

With the mood ruined, Joel returned home to let you mull over your plan. It felt weird. How do you explain to your mother that you are currently dating her crush? Not something you had on your bingo card that's for sure.

That night you paced back and forth in your room until about 11 o'clock when you decided you just couldn't take the turmoil anymore. Your mom hadn't returned home. So instead of continuing to sit in your torment, you forced yourself to go to bed.

And when you awoke in the morning, there still was no sign of her. Sighing as you closed the door of her bedroom, you dragged yourself down to the kitchen. Your one last hope was that you could put together some grand breakfast for her and it would somehow lure her home. I mean she had to come home eventually anyway, right? She might as well come home to a yummy breakfast.

So there you were sitting alone at the table with a plethora of food laid out in front of you. Not wanting to eat without her, you sat there waiting. Now, almost an hour later, the food turned cold and the house was still empty. Sighing, you pushed yourself out of your chair, made a quick plate and popped it in the microwave to heat up.

As the time ticked down, you leaned against the counter watching it spin like it would make it go faster. The microwaved beeped to signal its end and that's when the front door swung open.

Abandoning the food once again, you rushed into the living room. Your mom's eyes locked onto you immediately as you crashed into the room. Her body visibly tensed up as she sighed at your presence.

"I-I made you breakfast." You rushed out before she could leave or you lost your nerve.

"Breakfast?" Venom dripped from her voice as she repeated your words.

Snapping your mouth shut, you gulped, trying to think of what to say. That's when she sighed again and closed her eyes, pinching her nose bridge as she tilted her head to the side.

"Sweetie, I'm not mad, but I'm also not happy-"

"-I know you liked him, it's just-" You cut her off, your words coming out quick, laced with your nerves. She held up her hand, to cut you off back.

"Let me talk, because honestly I don't want to hear anything from you right now." Another sigh, this time like she was preparing to give a speech, she was. "You got so hurt last time and with your father and I, I'm just scared for you. Sure, I liked Joel but it was never more than an infatuation. I'm not mad because he was never mine to get mad over. You know the night him and Linda dropped me off?"

You nodded in conformation, she continued, "I actually tried to kiss him that night." She laughs at her own stupidity. "He dodged it, playing it off like nothing happened. I'm sure he just didn't want to embarrass me by blatantly telling me he was in a-" A pause as she looks you up and down, tongue running across her front teeth. "-relationship."

You pulled your lip between your teeth as you listened to her speak. How could she be taking this so well? You were way too used to young people drama. People like your mom and Joel knew how to communicate their feelings. Honestly, it was relieving.

"Kind of weird to admit I almost kissed my daughter's boyfriend." Your mom says with anguish. Her face scrunching up in disgust as if she didn't find him attractive just days before.

She lets herself relish in this thought for a second, before continuing again, "I just hope you are keeping yourself safe. I know I already gave you the responsible talk but this is different. I just don't want to see you hurt like the last time."

You took a second to process her words. She didn't care who you were with, she just cared that you didn't go through what you did before. It warmed your heart and relieved a lot of the pent up stress.

"Mom, this time is different. Joel he, uh, he told me himself. I actually told him what happened." Your mom knew this was big for you to tell someone about the whole cheating thing and when you told her that, she visibly relaxed.

A smile graced her lips as she made her way over to her. She held your cheek in her head. You relaxed into the touch, closing you eyes in relief.

"You're happy with him, I can tell. So like I said I'm not mad. A little sad I missed my chance but there will always be someone else. He's good for you, I'm sure of it."

You smiled at her and leaned in to peck your forehead before wrapping you into her arms and holding you tightly. Her body heat radiating you with all the love only a mother had for her child. She pulled away a bit later, holding you at arms length.

"Although, the age difference is a bit much. That one took me a minute to get over." Laughs laced her voice as she spoke.

"I know, took me a bit to accept the initial attraction too but he's just so..." Your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. She only smiled to this and nodded.

"I understand, that's how I felt about your father when I met him too." A sad smile now formed as she looked down and you knew she was thinking about how it had turned out for her and him. Now it was your turn to comfort her as you rubbed your hands down her arms.

She shook the thoughts out of her head and sucked back the tears that were pricking her eyes. "Okay! Now, tell me everything. How you guys met! The first date! I want to hear everything."

Letting her drag you to the couch while laughing uncontrollably at her excitement. The rest of the day the two of you could not stop talking as you told her everything.

After hours of chatting, your mom finally called it a night. All but pushing you out the door to go see Joel. Mumbling something about how he must be on the edge of his seat. You giggled at her antics, it was almost unbelievable how quickly she had gotten over it and was now your number one supporter.

So now you found yourself knocking at Joel's door. When he opened it there was a small look of shock on his face.

"Wasn't expecting you to be over so soon, sugar." He said as he pulled you into a quick hug. Breathing in his scent for a second, you sighed, content.

"It went better than expected." Your words were muffled by his chest since you refused to release yourself from his grasp. Not like Joel was complaining.

"Good, I'm glad." He spoke into your hair before placing a soft kiss there. A second more of holding you before Joel is pushing you out to arms length. He searches your face for a second before bringing his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow, like he is learning the feel of them for the first time. It makes you putty in his hands. The stress that somehow was still all pent up inside of you, now finally melting away.

You felt safe. You felt loved. Joel was home for you and in that moment you knew that this was real. Joel was real.

And that night as you settled into his bed and into his arms everything in your past seemed to fade away. It was only you and him.

Smiling into his chest, you fell into a deep slumber.

The morning sun shining through the curtains of Joel's room woke you up. Reaching to the other side of the bed, you find nothing but cold sheets. Confusion washes for you for only a second in your half-awake state, until you hear the steady beat of shower water coming from the connected bathroom.

You take a second to lay in the silence, just listening to the drops of the water. Before an idea pops into your head and you are smirking to yourself.

Pushing off of the bed, you make your way into the bathroom, shredding off pieces of clothes as you go. Joel seems unaware of your presence so you are careful not to scare him too bad as you slide the shower curtain down the rod just enough for you to slip in.

He only jumps a bit as your arms wrap around him. Turning in them to face you.

"Hello." He says to you when his eyes meet yours.

"Hi." You whisper back, pulling him in closer to you, your head now resting on his chest. He lets out a light chuckle while rubbing your back in soothing circles.

To ensure you don't fall, you shift slightly on the wet surface. This causes Joel to let out a soft grunt, his now hardening member brushing against your thigh. It causes you to smirk and pull away, looking up at him.

"I barely hugged you and you're already this excited?" You question.

Something between a chuckle and a grunt passes through his lips, "Not my fault that you came in here all naked. It's human nature, baby." A pause while he drops his head down so his lips can brush your ear, "Remember when I said I wasn't as old as I seemed."

He nips your earlobe after speaking, an action that sends a rush down your spine. Heartbeat speeding up as he continues to breath right next to your sensitive skin, goosebumps popping up despite the warmth of the shower water.

He trails kisses down from your ear, across your chest, and up your neck. One kiss to your jaw, one to each cheek, one to your forehead, before pecking your lips. Pulling away way too soon for your liking as you try and chase his lips with your own.

Now Joel is smirking seeing how desperate you already are for him after making fun of him only moments before. Yet he decides that neither of you really need the teasing so early in the morning so his reserve goes out the window and he's connecting his lips to yours.

The kiss is slower than usual, the intensity not fully there since both of you only just woke up. It is slow, yet passionate. Your lips meet like they were meant for each other. Tongues only barely fighting each other as neither of you really wanted to take dominance of the situation.

And as Joel's fingers slowly make there way down the middle of your stomach, finding your sensitive bud soon after, yours are wrapping around his waist and pulling him even closer to you. You gasp as his fingers move your clit in slow methodical circles. The feeling makes your legs weak, but you quickly recover when you remember where you are and how easily you could fall.

The thought almost makes you laugh but that is also quickly forgotten when the finger that was just working your clit, makes its way into your folds, testing your entrance. It seems like Joel contemplates if you are ready for a second so you keen towards him a bit to egg him on. That's when his finger finally enters you, working its way in and out of you in time with his lips on yours.

Your hands now find their way in between his legs. You try to stroke his dick in the same pace as his fingers in you, but your brain has become a bit foggy. This only gets worse when Joel begins quirking his fingers inside of you in an attempt to find that particular spot inside of you.

"Come on baby, you know you want to give in." He says into your lips. The words come out almost desperate and the gruff nature of his voice has you melting. If you were an ice cube you would be down the drain already.

"I just want you inside of me. It's too early for all your teasing." Your words are now the ones that are desperate, as you fully grip his cock and stroke it quickly trying to urge him closer to wanting to fuck you.

He laughs at your actions and pushes your hands off of him, fingers also retreating from their still steady pace inside of you. Grabbing your hips with such careful hands, so careful that you almost question if this is the same man. Usually so rough with you that you are sure that even his callouses could leave marks.

Flipping you around he bends you at the hips and pushes you towards the wall, careful not to let the two of you fall. Your hands make contact with the cold tile and if you weren't so gone you would've pulled them away instinctually.

That's when he leans over you and whispers into your ear, "I'm going to fuck you now, but the way I want to. Nice and slow. One sound and I stop, understood?"

You open your mouth to answer, but snap it closed and nod instead.

"Good girl." Joel kisses the bit of jaw he can reach before he is standing back up straight.

One hand finds your waist and pulls you back into him. Your hands almost slip from the wet tile that is holding you up, but you recover. Just in time for the tip of his dick to tease your entrance.

Joel gathers the your wetness and strokes it down his member, covering it in preparation to enter you. When he is satisfied with his job he pushes his tip past your folds. Very slowly he enters you. And after what feels like an eternity he bottoms out inside of you.

The feeling has you gulping down a gasp that is threatening to leave your lips. Sure Joel has fucked you pretty much every which way, but there is something about right now that you are finding it so much harder to follow instructions. You just want to let him know how good he makes you feel.

And before you can fully let this thought circulate, Joel is pulling out of you painstakingly slow. The type of slow that almost hurts but also fills you with so much pleasure that you could forget your own name.

This is how he continues, this slow, painful pace. In and out of you. All the way from tip to base, each action feels like it could be a full minute of white hot pleasure. Joel holds your orgasm over your head like a pig with a carrot on a stick. Kept on a tight leash, with your lips also kept shut tight.

You're not sure how he is holding himself back at this point but, obviously, you don't question it. too scared of what would happen if you let anything escape your lips.

One particularly harsh thrust has his hips snapping into yours and involuntarily you are pushing your back into his, trying to get him even closer. Like that was possible.

This has him tutting at you and gripping your hips a bit rougher, "Like the way my dick fills you up baby?"

You want to answer, you really do but you just bite your lip instead. He seems to notice you holding back and laughs lightly at you.

Pulling out of you and flipping you around to face him. He pecks your forehead before lifting one leg around his hip. You almost lose your balance as he pushes you back into the wall, so you have at least a little bit of support.

"Let me give you what you really want." Joel says as he enters you once again. "Wanna see the look on your face as you cum on my dick, pretty girl."

Now he's pistoning you onto his dick, letting you feel as much of his length as he can with how tightly your leg is wrapped around him. Its like your body wants to keep him permanently inside of you, not like your brain disagrees though.

Just like that, a few thrusts later and you are getting closer to your orgasm. Your body giving in so easily and it's heightened state. You never knew how malleable morning sex would make you.

And as your vision is beginning to be clouded by stars and your stomach is tightening, a whimper escapes your lips before you can catch it. Joel's hips stop abruptly and so does your orgasm.

Your eyes snap open to meet his. They just stare back blankly, almost no emotion because you know what you did. You want to plead with him, maybe complain that you were close but you don't. Silence watches over you.

Joel sits there staring at you, member half inside of you. Your pussy clenches onto it, as if trying to urge him into giving in. But it isn't until you are dropping your eyes from his that he's leaning forward and capturing your lips in his own. He kisses you for a moment, slow and steady, still just warming his cock inside of you.

"I know you were close baby, but you knew the rules." He says in a way that it almost sounds like an apology. But that is long forgotten as he snaps his hip forward into you and hits your g spot in one perfect thrust.

The urge to moan again is intense that you are biting down on your lip. For a second you question if you would draw blood, but decide the pleasure is way important right now. As your head tosses back meeting the cool tile.

With how close your orgasm was before it isn't long before you are reaching your peak once again. Your stomach clenches again and vision blurs. Although this time you are conscious of the sounds you would normally make and hold them back. As the wave crashes over you and you are spasming into Joel's body.

Joel's strong arms hold you up as your legs go weak under you, the wet floor making it all too easy for you to just go down. The leg around his hips also loosens but he grips that thigh holding it there as he begins to chase his own orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around him getting him dangerously close to his own peak. His teeth find your neck in an attempt to hold back his orgasm, not wanting to cum into you without a condom (or permission).

"Baby-" He grunts out, pain laced in his voice. You catch the tone immediately and try to find you feet. Although it takes you a second, in that second he is pulling out of you and stroking his dick in an attempt to reach his orgasm.

Without a second thought you are dropping to your knees and swatting his hands away replacing them with your own. The minute your mouth meets the tip of his member, he is shooting his load into your waiting cavern. Swallowing it all down as you stroke him slowly, working him through his high.

Joel's hands grip your hair as he comes down from his high. When he has come back down to earth, his fingers loosen and instead he is stroking your head in a comforting gesture.

Giving him another second to recover before you stand up to attach his lips to your own. Now he is melting into your touch as he tastes himself on your lips.

"I love you." This has you pausing and stepping back. You are sure you didn't hear him right. Seeing the look on your face a playful smile graces his own.

"Y/N I love you." Joel repeats.

"I-I love you too." You want to jump into his arms, but obviously you don't want to break your leg...or his.

"Why did you have to tell here?" Now you are hitting his chest, leaving the hand there, just needing to feel him. He laughs at your antics, but let's you continue, knowing you well enough to know you aren't done yet.

"I'm all wet and I just woke up. I have sex brain. Uh!" Another hit, this one has him grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him carefully.

"I feel like that's the perfect time." Joel says with a smile, leaning down to place a kiss on your pouting lips.

"I feel like that's the perfect time." You mock him which has him laughing again. Another kiss is placed on your lips, this one continues a bit longer as if he is savoring the feeling of yours on his.

The blush is evident on your cheeks but you aren't giving up, "Just finish up in here, I'm going back to bed." A huff and you are leaving the shower. Joel's laugh echoes behind you.

When you told Joel to finish up, you didn't think he would take this long. At this rate you should've just stayed in there and washed yourself too. Instead you have dried yourself off already and are sat crisscross on Joel's bed. His shirt adorning your body and a towel wrapped around your still damp hair.

You have a book resting on your legs as you read in silence. Hearing the water turn off in the bathroom, you smile down at your book knowing Joel will be out soon.

Just as the sink faucet is switched on, the front door opens and a familiar voice sounds out through the house. The bathroom door is all but slammed open at the booming voice. Joel stands there towel around his waist, toothbrush between his lips. A bit of toothpaste is threatening to spill out of the corner of his mouth and you bite back a smile.

"Tommy." Joel says, the words a bit muffled by the brush and paste in his mouth.

Your eyes widen. No you weren't scared to meet his brother, I mean you have technically met him before. It was just you wanted to make a semi good impression and well here you were in only your underwear.

But before you can make any change to that Tommy's footsteps are thudding down the hallway and the door to Joel's bedroom is swinging open, with not so much as a knock.

"Joel!" Tommy calls out just as his eyes drop to yours. You are quickly pushing your legs straight under the covers in any attempt to cover yourself.

Tommy's jaw drops, "You!" Your eyes stay open wide not sure what is going to come out of his mouth next. Joel stays stuck in the doorway, not sure what to do either.

Then Tommy laughs, like a whole belly laugh. Loud, resounding. He doubles over holding his stomach. That's how funny he finds this whole situation.

It's almost a minute before he is recovering from his fit, wiping the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes. Both you and Joel are still stood there in shock. Watching his brother with semi-concerned eyes.

"The girl from the bar!" Tommy points to you, then to Joel. "And you! You old dog. Joel's still got it, huh?" He nods as if he's just discovered something.

Another chuckle and he's looking back at you, "Damn."

"Tommy..." Joel tests the waters, still not fully sure what to say to him.

"This is, just wow!" Then Tommy does something that is even more astounding. He slow claps. Actually slow claps like he's in some movie.

He does this for a second or two before looking between you and Joel, nodding slowly. You clear your throat, trying to attempt anything to clear the awkward air of the situation.

"I'm Y/N, by the way." A tight smile comes with your words. Hand leaving its grip on your book to give a small wave to the man.

He's still nodding, "Tommy-" He weighs his words. "I'm gonna go." And with that he is turning on his heel.

Yelling a quick, "Good job big bro!", before the front door is closed behind him.

As soon as the lock is clicking, you and Joel turn to each other. Still in shock, before you are giggling.

"Well, were two for two on family first meetings. Got any other family members I could awkwardly meet?"

Joel smiles at you before he is retreating to bathroom to spit out his long forgotten toothpaste. Returning to the room , he crawls across the foot of the bed towards you, like a lion stalking his prey.

"No, but honestly that's the best it could've gone with Tommy so don't feel bad." A kiss to your lips.

"I don't feel bad, I feel embarrassed." You say as you trace a finger down his jaw. He melts into your touch.

"I mean look at me!" You gesture to your lack luster clothing... or lack of clothing.

Lust flashes behind his eyes, "I think you look sexy." You almost hit him again but hold back.

"Of course you do, I'm wearing your shirt."

Joel considers your words for a second, "Is that what it is? Sure it isn't how I'm still thinking about how badly I wanted to fill you with my cum earlier?"

Your jaw drops, actually drops at his words. But two can play at this game.

"So why didn't you?" Hands play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, a shiver runs down his spine.

"You," A poke to your nose, "were in no mindset to give me permission, pretty girl. Not to mention, you were keeping those pretty lips shut." As he mentions your lips, he glances down at them. You readjust your body so your tits brush his chest. Nipples hardening at the sensation.

"Now I'm thinking about how much I missed out." You try, wanting to get one response in particular from Joel.

"Well, what my baby wants, she gets." Joel says matter-of-factly. Grabbing your hips and pulling you to lay down beneath him. You feel his hardening member brush your thigh.

"Mr. Miller, already so hard again?" You question the sound of fake astonishment in your voice.

"Shut up and let the whole neighborhood hear how good I make you feel. Gonna get you so full of my cum, sugar."

Needless to say, neither you nor Joel left the bed that day.

Taglist:

@wh0reforbucknasty @guelyury @shibeom @theoraekenslover @deathsholywaterr @azxulaa @untamedheart81 @akah565 @shadowmoonlight0604 @papi-ispunk

I just went ahead and tagged everyone that mentioned wanting a part two :)

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jeannineee · 1 year

Note

For the smut bingo can I request wings with Rhys x reader?? I feel like we never get to see any wing play with him 🫣

Darling

Rhysand x Reader

a/n: based on this bingo card.

Nsfw under the cut (18+ please)

The feeling of Rhys’s lips on your neck made your skin feel as though it was on fire. And judging by the smirk that spread across his face as he pulled away, the arrogant bastard knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on you.

Rhysand trailed his hands along your hips, your thighs, causing the bath water to gently ripple around the two of you. You tangled your hands in his hair as he continued, earning a low growl from him. His hardened length pressed against your stomach, showing the effect that you were having on him.

You whimpered as Rhys grazed his teeth over your pulse point, biting hard enough to sting. Rhys chuckled darkly, before soothing the area with his tongue.

The ache between your legs became unbearable enough that you tried grinding against him. Rhys kept a tight grip on your hips, grinning at your failed efforts. “Need something, darling?”

You glared. “Prick.”

“That’s not a very smart way of going about getting what you want.”

You continued glaring, hoping to subdue him.

It did no such thing. Rhysand merely returned to his previous task, his lips now trailing your collarbone.

For once, your stubbornness kept you from begging, despite the fact that both of you knew Rhys could make you beg, if he wanted to.

As he continued his sinful ministrations, an idea popped into your head. You leaned forward slightly, tracing a single finger along the bony outer structure of his left wing, where it peeked over his shoulder.

Rhysand’s breath hitched, his cock twitching in response to your touch. He squeezed your hips hard enough to bruise, murmuring in your ear, “Play nice.”

“I think I recall you saying,” you began, still running your finger along the top of his wing, “that if an Illyrian’s wings are touched in the right place…” You let the words hang, smug satisfaction rolling through you at the sight of Rhys, panting, eyes half-lidded as he watched you.

“I’m yours, darling,” Rhysand mused, something like vulnerability swimming in his violet eyes. “Have your way with me.”

You brushed your lips against his, before returning your attention to his wing. You weren’t sure of where to start, but as a prominent vein caught your eye, that seemed as good a place as any.

Rhys shuddered beneath you as you traced your fingertips over the vein. “Fuck.”

You repeated the same motion, arousal pooling between your legs at the moans that fell from his lips. “Does that feel good?” You asked teasingly, applying a bit more pressure.

Rhys cursed, his hips instinctively bucking against you. He didn’t need to reply for you to know his answer.

You continued swirling your fingertips around the same spot, a bit of surprise jolting through you as you realized Rhysand was already close.

“Please don’t stop,” Rhys breathed, his abs tightening, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “Please.”

“I wonder if…” you trailed off, replacing your fingers with your tongue. That was it. The moment your tongue swept across the membranes of his wing, Rhys groaned out your name, spilling his release onto his abs.

You pulled back slowly, unable to hide the amusement on your face. Rhys was spent.

You arched a brow. “Just by touching your wings?”

Rhys smirked. “Need I remind you how quickly I can have you falling apart?”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acotar smut #smut #female reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand smut #rhysand #acosf #acowar #acofas #rhys smut #Rhys x reader

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aakeysmash · 6 months

Text

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Previous part: part 4.

Next part: part 6.

A/N: High School Musical references (watch the movies!!!). I recommend you to read part 1 again, because a lot of references I made here are also said in the first chapter. This could look like a filler chapter, but it’s really important for future developments!

Word count: 2.2k.

You’re relaxing on your bed on a deserved day off, brand new AC on and a cold glass of orange juice in your hand. You’re scrolling on your phone, chuckling at various memes and sending most of them to Ochaco, who will probably complain about finding 62 videos from you and having to react to each one. You’re planning on doing absolutely nothing today, just munching on snacks and sleeping. Maybe you’re going to put on that show you’ve been wanting to see. This is the life, you think.

“FUCK THIS SHIT!”

You’re startled out of your mind, again. Katsuki has been screaming at the top of his lungs since this morning, but you don’t even know the reason why. You hear his stream of curses from the wall between your rooms.

You’re very annoyed: he’s ruining your perfect day off. How dare he. You throw punches on the wall for the upteenth time, hoping he will stop or go outside to do whatever is bugging him.

“Stop fucking doing that!” He screams back at you, and you get even angrier. You decide you had enough, so you get up from your bed and march towards his room. You throw his door open without caring about his privacy.

He snaps his head towards you, scowling worser than usual.

“D’you ever heard about fucking knocking?” He barks at you. He looks disheveled: his usually spiky hair is a mess, and you assume he keeps on yanking it; you can feel his eye bags, and he probably didn’t have a good night of sleep in two weeks.

“Damn, you look bad” you mumble looking at him from head to toe. You lose a bit of your anger and almost feel bad. Almost.

“Well, I don’t care, you’re ruining my perfect day, so if you need to scream go out” you say glaring at him.

“This is my fucking house too” he snarls. “If I want to scream because I don’t want to do this shit, then I’m gonna do it. You’re free to leave and never return” he responds looking you up and down. He’s got a point.

You scoff. Sometimes he really has the audacity to speak when he shouldn’t be speaking. “What are you even doing? What’s this big thing that’s bothering you so much?”.

He grits his teeth and stays silent. The way he doesn’t want you to know the reason why he’s so angry just makes you become more curious. Oh, I’m about to get so annoying when I find out. Just so you wait, Katsuki.

“Come on, don’t be a kid. Let’s make a deal: I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate if you tell me” you try to bribe him. In one of his nicest moments, he complimented the way you know how to “make it just right”, just to take it back immediately after noticing those words left his mouth. Also, your roommate likes to eat and drink hot things even if it’s summer. He’s a weirdo.

He looks conflicted. He really wants a sweet treat, and he knows that he’s not capable of doing it the way you do (he already tried and failed). He blames it on the fact you keep on saying that you add a secret ingredient that he doesn’t know, because there’s just no way he’s not good at doing everything he puts his mind into. He ponders about it for what feels like 3 minutes, where you both stay completely silent.

“I’ll even add whipping cream.”

You try suppressing your grin: he’s sold, you see it in the way he grits his teeth even harder. “I’m revising my thesis’ grammar.”

You instantly become smug, all your anger forgotten. Bingo. “The big buff Bakugou Katsuki is mad about some grammar? Really? I thought you were stronger than that, pussy” you tease him with a smirk on your face.

He tries throwing you one of the books he keeps on his desk, but you dodge it. Then you lean on his door and cross your arms, while he goes on and screams “GET OUT! You’re bothering me even more”.

“Stop screaming, oh my god”, you whine. “What would it take for you to return being the quiet kid at the back of the class? You’re so annoying like this” you say exhausted. You get one day off in 3 weeks, there is no way he’s ruining it. You’re finding joy in annoying him, though, it’s so fun.

“I was never the quiet kid, I ain’t no loser like you. Get the fuck out of my room” he bites back. He doesn’t need to know it, but you were indeed the quiet kid.

“Well, guess I won’t help you then” you reply, shrugging. You didn’t even ask if he wanted your help, and you didn’t come in his room to help him, but now you’re just rubbing in his face that you can go and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day, while he boils himself away in his despair.

You start closing his door, yawning and teasing him some more. “Continue screaming while I go and watch Love Island without you”. You have to turn around to hide your expression.

You hear him curse under his breath. “Fuck, wait, I really wanna see that”, he says, sounding desperate. “Aren’t you enrolled in literature or some shit?”.

You face him with the biggest devious smile you can muster. “Yeah, why?”

The vein on his forehead is about to pop. “How good are you at correcting grammar?”, he says.

You look like you won the lottery. “Ooooh you want my help? Do you want me to revise your little thesis for you? Little ol’ me? Weren’t you saying to get the fuck out?” You say walking towards his still sitting form. He’s super rigid, like asking you to help him is requiring him all the strength of the world and the planets and the solar system together. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He tries the breathing exercises they taught him in highschool to manage his fury, when he really started managing his anger issues. You’re getting on his last nerves, but revising all he wrote in months is also getting on his nerves.

“Can you at least pretend to not enjoy this as much as you currently are? You’re a devil” he spits out. Well, he could’ve said something meaner, so the breathing exercises must have worked a little.

“Mean. I guess you don’t want my help then”, you respond, feigning innocence.

“Let’s make one thing clear: I’m a boss at doing shit like this. I’m just tired of doing it, ‘cause I’ve been at it for a day straight. I’m good at everything, so you’ll probably find a comma that I forgot to type, not much more than that”, he adds, glaring up at you. You’re now standing next to him, but the fact he’s still sitting has you staring at him from above. This simple act is driving him insane: if he’s not in control he gets antsy, and you seem to know it, because you’re standing really proud.

You decide on dropping the facade a little, because you enjoy revising things. And he does look exhausted.

“Sure, send me the file and I’ll look into it” you say. Now you’re going outside of his room to make his chocolate, but he thinks you’re just running away.

“Wait. What do you want in return?” He says squinting at you. There’s no way she’s doing it because she’s nice, he thinks.

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Don’t fucking “huh” me. What do you want? Why are you doing this?” He responds, serious.

You raise one eyebrow and stay silent for a bit, then you tell him “Because I’m nice? Have you ever heard about kindness? Not everything is a transaction, business man” then you close his door without waiting for an answer, leaving him confused and somewhat angry.

You start doing his hot chocolate while singing to yourself, when suddenly his door is thrown open and he exits it, staring at you.

“Tell me what you want” he says coming closer to you and crossing his arms. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You look at him and respond “Tell me what you neeeed”, singing.

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“High School Musical? That one scene in the second film where they all sing in the kitchen? Really?” You ask, and he looks confused.

“I’ve never seen those films. They look pathetic.” He responds, rolling his eyes and looking at you putting whipping cream on his hot chocolate. You look shocked, and you hang your mouth open.

“You’ve never seen High School Musical?!” You almost scream.

He winces, rubs his ears and then proceeds to say “What’s so weird about it? It’s not like it’s a cult or something”.

“Yes! Yes it is! You know what? We’re going to watch it right now. And you can’t refuse, or I won’t revise your thesis” you tell him while poking him in the chest. Soft.

He kisses his teeth, huffs and goes to sit himself on the couch.

“I knew you weren’t doing it for free, manipulator” he glares at you.

You shrug, while putting his cup in front of him and bringing him some cookies. He mumbles a thanks, relaxing.

“I was going to help you regardless, but if I can make you suffer it’s funnier” you tell him, positioning yourself next to him and stealing one of the biscuits you brought for him.

“You’re such a bitch.”

“A bitch who’s going to do your work, so shut up and watch people fall in love in highschool” you bite back. You both roll your eyes.

Neither to say, he hates the movies with a passion. He thinks that high school is portrayed poorly, that Gabriella is the real villain, that they’re all pretentious bitches, that Troy should’ve went away because none of them were truly his friends since they weren’t supporting him.

You keep on huffing while he tells you all these “that”s.

“Katsuki, it’s not like it’s reality. It’s a musical. Just focus on the songs and the love, damn” you whine while throwing a punch at his bicep. He doesn’t budge and your hand hurts.

“That’s not my definition of love” he simply states.

“Yeah? And what’s your definition of love?” You ask him, curious.

He raises one of his eyebrows. “Why would I share something like that with you?”.

“Because I’m doing your work. And we’re friends. Sort of. And you like my chocolate” you respond, while blushing a little. You know you tend to be a little too curious and nosey, but it’s just because you pay a lot of attention to details. Details are everything to you. You’re quick to backtrack seeing his hostile behaviour towards this topic, and you start saying that it’s not a big deal and you should’ve minded your business, when he interrupts you.

“And what is your definition of love?”

He looks relaxed, like asking this isn’t that bothersome. Like he wants you to know you too. Like he cares, in some way.

“Love is a lot of things for me” you resort to say. Just how much can you be specific without scaring him away?

“Yeah, you’re waiting for me to talk about it first. I get it, dumbass. I’m not very good with words on this aspect though, so I’m sorry, but your curiosity won’t be quelled” he responds, rolling his eyes. From the start of this conversation he hasn’t stopped breathing normally, almost as if this is a regular conversation for him. He hasn’t stopped looking at you, too, but you’re trying to ignore that.

“Then let’s make a deal. Saturday we’re picking a thing that we think helps us explain what we think about love” you burst out. He’s about to protest, but you’re not finished.

“Love as in general love! Love can be outside of romantic relationships too, so let’s settle on love between friends! I’d never go out with you like that” you add. You jump out of the couch. You feel like you might catch on fire if you stay near him one more second. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re something he wants to dissect.

“Okay” he simply responds. You’re dumbfounded.

“Really? You’re okay with this? I thought you were going to say no” You say.

“Yeah, but let’s say that we can both decide on either going out or staying in. This is not a date, you said it yourself, so I don’t see a problem with it. It will just be like one of our movie nights, it’s not like we never spend time together, dumbass” he says, getting up and stretching his hand towards you.

“So? Are you in? Or are you scared of doing something much less meaningful than me?” He tells you, smirking.

You glare at him and compose yourself. Then, you stretch his hand.

“Deal.”

Taglist:

@perfectsukii @sleepykittycx @what-the-jams @bakunianadecorazon @vensunzy @eyesforbkg @bffrrufr @imas1mpp @cold-deep-water @peonies-and-teacakes @berryvioo

I couldn’t tag the ones in pink :(

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha #and they were roommates #bakugo fluff #barista au

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

Ok so I don’t know if your requests are open, but I’m going to drop one in case… 😅

A Joel Miller x Reader story where Joel and Ellie arrive to Jackson. Could it be a moment like where Ellie saw *possibly* Dina? They could make eye contact and maybe he’s interested in her and wants to know more? Something along those lines hehe.. You can totally add more whether it be spicy or fluff! :)

AN | Please this is just the softest idea. Plus - wing woman Ellie! 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It happened so fast that he almost didn’t realize that anything had happened.

He was trying to listen to Maria, really he was, but he found himself zoning out more than he wanted to. Admittedly it was a lot to take in all at once and he wasn’t sure what to think or where to look anymore. He hoped that Ellie would be able to catch him up later although he had his doubts; she seemed just as distracted. Well then - maybe things would be easy to pick up on.

But then it happened. He heard something about communes and vegetable gardens but when he looked ahead, time seemed to slow down and the voices around him were muffled and distant.

He saw you. It happened so fast that he must have imagined it. You caught his eye and offered him a sweet smile but as soon as he blinked, you were gone.

It must have been his imagination playing tricks on him. He was tired and in desperate need of a shower and nap; surely you were nothing more than a mirage.

“Joel?” he snapped back into attention, finding Tommy, Maria, and Ellie all watching him curiously. His young charge raised an eyebrow, "everything okay?"

"Fine," he huffed indignantly, waving her off before the group continued to walk on. Maria was in front, back to explaining everything in detail as he and Ellie fell behind. She nudged his arm, silently conveying her question to him. They'd gotten to the point where they could easily communicate without words, "just a moment of distraction. Nothin' to worry about."

"I can find out what her name is," Joel almost stopped in his tracks at her sudden comment. This girl was way too observant - it was a blessing and a curse. His felt his entire being flush with warmth as he opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, "you're even prettier when you blush!"

"I'm not - I'm not blushing," he hissed but he knew he was. His face felt like it was on fire, "Ellie."

"Fine," she held up her hands innocently putting on a sweet smile in an attempt to get him off her scent. She had a plan - she was already plotting on how to get the two of you to meet, "I won't say or do anything. I'll be quiet as a church mouse or whatever that old saying is."

"Good," despite his hesitation and suspicions, he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug, "good."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie Williams was a liar. A damned, dirty liar. But it was all out of affection and care for the man that had become her father figure.

He took good care of her and was always looking out for her best interests so for once she was going to return the favor. The man had been through a lot. He deserved some happiness too.

But she had to work smart and be subtle, otherwise her plan would explode in her face.

The first step? Naturally, she had to find you and get your name. It should have been simple…but of course it wasn't.

Jackson wasn't small but it wasn't that big either. There were more people in the community than she had bargained for and finding you again seemed an entirely impossible challenge. She'd managed a few fleeting glances at you and that was all she had to go.

After a few days of looking she'd almost given up hope.

Until she saw you tending to a flock of loudly bawking chickens. Bingo.

She pretended to be fascinated by the chickens…although honestly she was amused by them, and came over to you.

"Look at all those chickens!" Despite her initial thought that she would remain calm and calculated, her excitement got the better of her.

"Look at all those chickens," you agreed as you smiled at her. It took her a moment to realize you were standing there and watching her until she made a small sound of acknowledgement.

"I'm Ellie," she could hear Joel in the back of her mind telling her to find her manners, "we just moved here."

"It's nice to officially meet you, Ellie," you offered her your name and held out your hand for her to shake, "welcome to Jackson."

"Thanks," she shook your hand gently and you could feel her watching you in the way that kids often did when they were trying to glean everything about you, "it's nice being here."

"It's always nice to have new people here," you grabbed a bucket of seed for the chickens and held it out to her, "Tommy's really excited to have his brother back."

"Joel!" she almost shouted as her eyes grew wide with embarrassment, "his name is Joel. He's my…Joel."

You laughed, a sound Ellie decided she liked and that Joel would like. You tossed some seed to the chicken and Ellie followed suit, watching amazed as the chickens started to peck away, "well, if either of you ever need anything or have any questions just let me know. I was new here too once and it can be a little overwhelming."

"Thank you," Ellie knew all about things becoming overwhelming. Everything had changed for her so quickly since she'd met Joel, "are you-"

But she was interrupted by the call of your name from the distance. She silently cursed Chad, or whatever his name was, for interrupting her little plan.

"I gotta go," you offered her an apologetic shrug, "see you around, Ellie! Don't be a stranger!"

Don't be a stranger. Oh, she would make sure of that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I know her name!” Ellie ran into the house, yelling, without even waiting to see if Joel was up. She found him in the kitchen, making breakfast for the two of them, an unreadable expression on his face, “the girl. I know her name.”

“Ellie,” he sighed softly, but there was an affectionate bloom in his chest towards the girl, “I told you not to meddle.”

“You didn’t say that,” she sat down at the table and helped herself to some of the fresh orange. He gave her that look and she shrugged sheepishly, “not specifically in those words.”

“You’re trouble, kid,” he sighed, affectionate though tired. He was a tired dad, “I’ll entertain you for just a moment. What’s her name then?”

The young girl softly whispered your name and oh. He liked the sound of it. Even from the brief glimpse he caught of you, he thought it suited you perfectly. He repeated it, testing it out on his tongue and deciding that he liked it.

“Now you actually have to talk to her,” she was most pleased as Joel lightly scoffed at her, “you’re in love with her!”

Joel inhaled sharply and almost knocked the pan off the stove as he quickly turned around, “now just what are you talking about?”

“The look,” she shrugged lightly as if to say that it was all so obvious, “you had the look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The look of love at first sight or whatever,” she was now proceeding to shove some freshly baked bread into her mouth, “I’ve seen enough old movies and read enough books to know.”

“Well you must know something I don’t because there was no love at first sight,” right? Right. His hands were on his hips as he sighed at her, “that’s something made up for entertainment.”

“Whatever you say,” she made kissy noises at him and he cursed under his breath, “when you get married you can thank me. Trust me Joel, you had that look on your face."

“I had no look on my face,” this was ridiculous. She was ridiculous, “now eat your breakfast and get ready for school.”

“Joel-”

“Don’t make me ground you,” he waved the spatula at her but both of them had happy looks on their faces. It had been a long time since he had gotten to say those words. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed this. Ellie, on the other hand, had never really had someone that loved her as he did, that was a real parental figure. She liked it too, “do you want bacon and eggs and pancakes?”

“Yes please,” the two of them exchanged a look before breaking into soft smiles.

Yeah…this life was turning out to be pretty okay.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe there was some small part of Joel that hoped that once he had learned your name that he would somehow magically start to run into you in other places. Like that one bit of information would lead to much more.

Well, that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. It was like the universe was somehow trying to keep the two of you apart. Every time he arrived somewhere, you were leaving, or vice versa. Every time he spotted you in a crowd and made his way over, you managed to disappear. It was like a horrible game of cat and mouse.

Maybe he just had to accept that he wasn’t meant to know you. Even if he hated the idea of that.

But - somehow, magically or whatever - the day came when he was finally destined to meet you.

And he couldn’t have been less prepared.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was tending to his small flock of sheep, trying to clean out the dirt and muck out of their grazing area when he heard you. He was filthy; covered in sweat and dirt and probably smelling of shit. But there you were, pretty face and radiant smile waving happily at him.

But damn if that smile didn’t make him want to melt.

“Joel!” oh. He was in trouble; deep, deep trouble. He tossed his shovel down, swallowing thickly before exchanging a look with Gertrude (his favorite sheep but he’d never admit it, he didn’t want any of the others to get upset). She seemed to know what he was thinking and baa’ed at him before nudging her nose against his leg. He nodded before making his way over to you, trying to keep his walk calm and cool and not like he was overly excited.

“H-hey,” he nearly choked on the singular word as he reached you, separated only by the fence. If he smelled or anything, you didn’t seem to mind, not balking in the slightest when he said your name, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you held out your hand and the poor man stared at it - so dainty and delicate compared to his - before shaking it. You laughed softly, sensing the nerves rolling off him, but in truth, you were nervous too, “after all this time I finally get to meet the infamous Joel Miller. It felt like the day would never come.”

“Y-you’ve been wanting to meet me?” there was no way; you were like an angel and he was anything but.. How could you have any interest in anything to do with him?

“I have,” you confessed softly, “it seemed like every time I saw and wanted to say hi you were gone in the blink of an eye. I finally just broke down and asked Ellie where you were.”

“Me?” he repeated, pointing at himself and casting a look around as if to make sure you couldn’t possibly be talking about anyone else.

“Yes,” you laughed softly, and the sound went straight to his heart, “who else could I be talking about? Unless one of your sheep is also named Joel. Then I’d like to meet him too - actually I kind of just want to meet your sheep either way. They’re so cute!”

“Yeah?” his brain was so frazzled that somehow any coherent thought he had left seemed to have left his mind. You probably thought he was an idiot but you had some sort of magnetic pull that kept him firmly in your orbit. He didn’t want to leave it - to ever leave your presence.

“Of course,” you thought it was endearing to see how nervous he became. Truthfully, you were just as nervous but managed to hold it together a little more, “listen, I’ve gotta go but do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“Dinner…tonight? With you?” alright, he was going to throw himself off a cliff.

“Dinner tonight,” you confirmed, “my house is the one at the end of your straight - with the yellow shutters. See you at six?”

“Six, y-yeah, yes,” he finally gained back some of his confidence, “should I bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” you smiled sweetly, “and Ellie of course, if you’d like to invite her.”

“Sure,” yeah, he’d ask her but part of them hoped she’d say no. He loved her so much, but he really hoped she’d say no this one time, “see you later.”

“See you later, Joel,” and then you did the unthinkable. You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. You gave him one last little smile before turning around to flounce away, “six o’clock, Miller!”

He felt like he was going to explode as he touched the spot on his cheek that had been blessed by your lips.

Maybe Ellie hadn’t been totally wrong on the love at first sight thing. He was definitely feeling something; something he hadn’t felt in a long time. And he loved it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You met her finally,” Ellie looked most pleased with herself as soon as Joel walked in the door, “you’re welcome.”

“How’d you know?” he couldn’t even pretend to be grumpy as he looked at her in earnest. She shrugged innocently before sliding off her chair and going over to hug him; he warmed up and hugged her back without hesitation.

“Your face,” she stated obviously, “it’s written all over your face. You look happy.”

“I met her,” he confirmed and Ellie squealed in delight. He couldn’t help but match her smile, “and she asked me - us - over for dinner.”

“Oh, you’re totally gonna marry her,” Joel opened and closed his mouth a few times, “but I’ll pass on dinner. I’m going to go over to Dina’s.”

“You knew she was going to ask, didn’t you?”

“Not explicitly,” Ellie shrugged, “but I had a feeling. So….you can go and have your dinner with your love.”

“Ellie,” no malice, all affection.

“You’ll be thanking me for this in a few years,” she insisted, tugging on her sweater and reaching for a backpack, “and I won’t mind if I get a brother or sister then either. Maybe both, who knows!”

“Ellie…” his face was bright red by now.

“Love you!” she threw her arms around him quickly before running towards the door, “see you later - make good choices!”

“Kid…” he watched as she ran out the door and almost slammed it behind her in haste.

He didn’t even know what to say. Maybe nothing needed to be said.

All he knew was that for the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the future.

One that involved you.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month

Text

4500 Follower Celebration Bingo - The Vet: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Tagging: @readmetosleep @kierawashere01 @Hangmanscoming @1-fuzzy-squirrels @nerdypinupcrystal

Prequel to upcoming September piece Broken - Travis Wheatley

Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

If You Want Me, You Can Have Me - They say that Rip Wheeler doesn't have a heart.

Stay Tonight - Rip asks to stay the night.

Use Your Words (NSFW) - Rip teases you.

Clover - Rip comforts you.

Rip’s at the Foreman’s House when he hears the gunshots echo over the pasture in the darkness. He’s just uncorked that bottle of that red you like from the winery in town because it’s been over a year since you stole this old cowboy’s heart and he wants to do something special to mark the occasion.

“I’m on my way.” You had promised him only a few minutes earlier when you’d called him. “I just need to check in Artemis.”

Gina’s horse had injured it’s leg during a barrel racing exercise a week ago and you’d been treating her since. Her cottage is less than a mile down the lane from Rip’s residence so he knows it won’t take long for you to arrive.

The instant he hears the two gunshots, something twists in his chest because they’re close, too fucking close. Both his home and Gina’s are on the Dutton’s land so he knows no one would dare go hunting in these fields. He tucks his own gun into the waistband of his jeans before he snatches up the keys to the truck and hurtles out the door.

Gina’s driveway is unusually busy when he pulls up outside her residence. There’s a black SUV he doesn’t recognise parked alongside the stables and your pickup blocks his path, the engine still running, the driver’s door thrown open.

Already he can hear the sounds of scuffle coming from the stable, shadows flicker against the warm illumination as a man curses and wood creaks.

“Touch that fucking horse and I will fucking kill you.” He hears you spit as he swings into the stables, his own gun drawn.

The scene before him is far from the one he expected.

Teal Beck is sagged against the door of Artemis’s stall, cradling his right arm close to his chest as blood jets from his badly broken nose. Dislocated shoulder, Rip assumes as Artemis paces her stall, tossing her head and grinding her teeth.

You’re standing with a Glock clasped in both your hands, finger on the trigger, weapon trained on Beck. There isn’t a single waver in you, your feet are spread apart, shoulders aligned just like they taught you when you signed up for a career in the Army as a miliary veterinarian. You’d done three tours before you resigned your commission and returned to Montana to take over your daddy’s practice.

“He was coming in here to kill the horse.” You tell Rip with a tone that could freeze the rivers of hell.

Of course, you’d go this crazy over a fucking horse. You leave and breathe for the animals under your care, every charge takes a tiny piece of your heart and you’d protect them with your life.

“You need to check on Gina.” You tell him, inclining your head slightly as you keep your eyes Teal. “Where there’s one Beck brother…”

There’s usually another.

Malcolm Beck’s been making his displeasure about his ex-wife known ever since that rodeo journalist had published the article about her come back. They’d all thought she was down and out after being kicked to the curb by him but now she’s back on the circuit, winning for the Yellowstone. She’s been spotted in the company of the rodeo king himself, Travis Wheatley.

It must have pushed every single one of that SOB’s buttons to see she was succeeding without him.

“Go.” You say again, this time more urgently. “I can take care of Teal, but Gina needs help.”

Rip’s already in motion, rushing from the stable as you keep the gun fixed on younger Beck brother.

“You better fucking hope he hasn’t laid a hand on her.” You say to Teal, your finger tightening on the trigger. “Otherwise you won’t live to see another sunrise.”

Teal smiles at you through bloody teeth.

“If that girl ain’t dead yet, she’s gonna wish she was by the time my brother’s finished with her.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#rip wheeler #rip wheeler x reader #yellowstone

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k-hotchoisan · 1 year

Text

🔮 Divination with the Demon 🔮

Behemoth demon!San x fem witch! Reader

Synopsis: outcasted by your previous coven due to your overly sharp and dangerously specific divination readings of the fall of your coven, you were exiled to being alone for the next 562 years. Sick being in solitude and missing your deck, you summon a behemoth demon to make a new one.

Word count: 6K

Genre warnings: general Smut, San is an eldritch being so he has like a demon sized dick, ritualistic things (magic talk and lingo), demonic contract with San through unprotected sex, riding, multiple orgasms, creaming & cream pies, oral sex (f receiving) cum drinking (not a lot), bulge kink, finger pricks (only once), dry humping(?), biting and bleeding, San is a really sweet behemoth—just like the one in the game!❤️

A/n: loosely based off this wonderful game—The Cosmic Wheel, Sisterhood🔮 (please go ahead and support indie creators! ❤️). I was so inspired bc the behemoth in game is such a flirt hehehehe no please I’m down bad for enough people already. 😐

Enjoy!

“So you were exiled here due to treason within the coven, and concern of spreading panic via divination readings by the supreme”, the witch arbitrator announces as she reads out from the book. “You’ve been here for 289 years already?”

“Concerned is an overstatement”, you reply through gritted teeth. “She cursed me, banished me here for the next 562 years, and burned my deck. That’s pretty fucked up.”

The arbitrator raises an eyebrow as her gaze returns to the book. “Well I suppose I could grant you visitation at least because by the records here so far, you’ve been pretty-behaved.” Your temper cools off a little—just a little. It was a step forward, albeit a fucking tiny one. “Yes. I think that would be fine, Arbitrator. Thank you.”

She nods at you. “Behave well and I’m sure she can’t implicate anything else on you. Please take care”, she says before leaving the window on her flying stick. You stare as her figure quickly disappears into the starless night sky.

You sigh in annoyance. It was ridiculous how the supreme deemed your divination readings a threat, then subsequently accused you of treason and causing unrest within the coven, just because the other sisters had started leaning onto you for your accurate readings. Was she afraid of your prophesized dissolving of the coven, or was she simply scared of being overthrown? Whatever it was, being stuck here in solitude for 562 years, and your deck burned at the stake was not on your bingo list.

You nibble on your thumb nail, thinking of what to do. 289 years had passed since then, and all you had been doing was meditate and reflect on your actions. You had an itching to get your deck back—or least have a temporary deck or something. Your eyes flicker to your grimore lying at the bottom of your bookshelf and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

If you couldn’t get your deck back, why not make a new one? However the only issue is that a contract had to be made in order to breathe magick into the deck. You’ve never tried this ritual before but desperate times called for desperate measures—you really needed to do a reading.

You circle the wooden floor with your fingers, feeling the bumpy texture—each crease and indent. Retrieving your matchbox, you pull out the deep purple matchstick from the bundle, and began lighting the dark-coloured candles formed in a circle, and finally the incense sticks that were lodged in a miniature caldron, used for holding said sticks for your rituals.

Dabbing your your index finger with a black inky substance, you draw out a summoning rune onto the wooden surface, chants leaving your lips as you do so. It was a perfect full moon that night, just what you needed. You sit at edge of the summoning circle, with your grimore open at the side, carefully reading the spell.

Taking out a small silver needle, you prick your middle finger, letting the blood pool the size of a pinprick before letting the drop of blood splatter onto the middle of the black rune, reciting your final chant.

For a moment, the room is dead silent. Then the wind picks up, howling into the dead of the night, the flames on the candles dancing to keep burning, then being quickly extinguished one by one. Your curtains flutter violently, as you notice the full moon turning into a crimson colour. You stay seated as the wind whirls around you and the grimore’s pages flipping non stop. The rune activates, along with your blood which sinks into the black ink, and something slithers up to your window.

“Come in,” you invite, your gaze never breaking from the entity. It hisses at first before turning into a more human-sized creature as it enters your room, its feet gingerly touching the wooden floor.

The candles’ flames flicker back on, you look up at the entity standing before you. He barely looked like a behemoth demon—not like the one described in the book at all. Instead, he looked pretty fucking young—he has an appearance of a younger male actually. His eyes were silts as black and red markings smudged at the ends of his eyes. Speaking of his eyes—they were a glowing red, almost enchanting. Incantation runes were littered all over his arms and limbs, all visible since he was wearing a black vest. A third eye was present right smack in the middle of where his cleavage dived into, it’s iris a deep red as well. His hair is jet black with cream streaks and slicked back, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and facial features. His lips are stretched slightly wider than a human’s, and seemingly torn black wings extended out from his back.

He tilts his head at you in curiosity. “A witch summoned me?” he asks as he inches closer to you.

You nod, still seated. “I’ve summoned you to make a blood bind with you. I need a new deck.”

“Well, you’ve definitely summoned the right behemoth, that’s for sure. What happened to the deck you’ve been using?” he prods, his jet black fingers tapping on his chin.

“It was burned by my coven’s supreme. She banished me here because she was scared that the coven would dissolve because of my divinations”, you reply.

“Quite a bitch isn’t she?” the behemoth replies. You nod. At least someone fucking agrees.

He cracks his knuckles. “Well, you’ve definitely came to the right behemoth. They call me San”, he introduces as a smile spreads over his pretty face.

You smile. “You don’t look how what I expected you to look actually.”

And that cracks San up, his sharp fangs all visible. “I get that a lot. It’s just my secondary form I prefer to take on since the first usually can’t fit through windows.”

You surprise your laughter, amused at how casual this behemoth is being. “You’re pretty casual for a behemoth actually,” you point out.

San nods. “Well, I am an eldritch nonetheless, and I’ve been here since these universes were born—I’ve watched them be born and destroyed countless of times. I don’t really feel the need to be intimidating since I’ve been around for too long. You’re the first to have summoned me since the past 3 centuries.”

You nod in interest. “Must have been pretty fucking boring out there, huh?” San only smiles, and that slightly gets you. You look away and shut the grimore before turning back to him.

“So walk me through the process, San” you request. San moves forward and he sits across you, his boney wings tapping against the window panes at how wide they were.

“Well, you know the basics, but we’ll go through it together—the elements—fire, air, earth and water are always the building foundations of any deck. You get that, right?”

You nod.

He continues, “then we go onto the elements of each card—the Arcana—which will determine how you read and interpret the cards.”

Pretty basic deck stuff, but it was great that he was taking the time to refresh your memory since it had been way too long.

“I will go through each element with you per day—you’re basically going back to magick school again. Then once the final element is sealed, that’s when I’ll bind myself to you, through another ritual”, he concludes. “Any questions?”

“What’s the other ritual? Do I need to prepare anything?” You ask. San shakes his head. “The only thing you need to prepare is your consent.”

“Yeah, sure of course.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest y/n.”

Day one: Air

Sure enough, at the same timing as the previous night, San slithers into your open window, his serpent-like tail splitting into two, long legs as he climbs into your room.

“Good evening to the lovely behemoth”, you greet. San exposes his fanged grin. “I see you’re already prepared for the first lesson.” He glances at the empty deck of cards piled up on the small wooden table. Scattered around are more candles, another stick of incense, crystals and a bowl of ink for rune casting, and finally, a small crystal sword right by the plate.

He begins. “The element air represents the ability to reflect, communicate, to be aware and to perceive. Let that flow through your veins as you charge the card.”

You gingerly placed an empty card onto the selenite plate, and San sits across you, as usual as his fingertips touch yours, where he ends up linking his fingers with yours.

“It’s time to seal the card. Tell me,” San asks, “what do you crave for the most? Power? Love? Knowledge of the universe?”

You pause to think about your answer. And you tell him once you’re ready. He nods in agreement. “You seem like the type.” You roll your eyes.

“We literally just met yesterday, San” you joke. He shrugs, “feels like I’ve known you for an eternity.”

“Lying ass,” you poke. “But you did mention that the last time you did this was, what, three centuries ago?”

San nods. “It definitely has been awhile. To be fairly honest, I had an inkling we would meet soon, just not this soon.”

“And the universe brought you to me”, you hum. “Okay. Back to the Air ritual.”

He gestures you to shut your eyes and you do, so he follows shortly after.

It doesn’t take long for the magick to activate. You feel your energy getting sucked off by San and it feels though as if your body was about to be ripped into a million pieces. San throws his head back in pleasure as a low, manic cackle rumbles through his vocal chords.

“Yes, that’s lovely. Pour in all that energy into me, master”, he sings. He soon lets go of you, and you gasp for air, beads of perspiration clinging onto your forehead and temples. Your hands had slipped out his and you clutch your chest, taking slow breaths.

“Fuck, San, is it supposed to hurt so much?” You heave, eyebrows furrowed. How in Astaroth’s name will you be able to pull through the next three elements if Air is already leaving you clutching for your fucking life? Granted, witches are immortal, they cannot die, but they can still be gravely wounded.

San turns to you and pats your back gently. “I’m sorry my master, it is part of the blood contract. If it makes you feel better, you only have to go through this once per element.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure if you should be concerned or relieved. San materialises a silk handkerchief and dabs the sweat off your skin, and your heart flutters slightly at the gesture. Also, since when did he start calling you ‘Master’?

“Your first air card is ready”, he reminds you. “Now you can create more air elemental cards. Be proud of yourself, my master.” He points to the glowing card on the selenite plate. You reach over and flip the card, and sure enough—what you had envisioned on the card was imprinted onto the once empty card. It glimmers a gorgeous white at its accents. You feel the light and airy feeling surging through your hands as you touch the card, and your heart is racing at how many air cards you can begin creating.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, to steady yourself, and you notice that the third eye on his chest was white now. Your breathing has stabled now and you lie onto your bed where San hums you to sleep, telling you to get some rest.

Day 2: Water

“Are you feeling better?” San asks as he hops into your room. You nod, feeling a strange surge of energy after a night’s rest. The sky was always the same—dark and starless.

“We can start with today’s element”, you say, prepared for the class.

San smiles and nods, as always, he takes a seat across you, and you can’t help but get lost in his crimson eyes.

“Water is all about flow, dealing with emotions, fluidity, spirituality. It is a passive element, often linked with healing and love. However, most witches tend to forget that the calmest elements can be the most deadly when used right.”

Undoubtedly, water was always of both opposite spectrums—extremely calm or extremely malevolent if it wanted to be. Today, you had a small chalice decorated in jewels on the body, filled with moon-charged water. You take another empty card, and begin sketching out the rune you want, with your first water card in your head, clear as day before settling it onto the plate. Once you were done, San’s fingers snake in between yours, and you’re starting to get used to this feeling already.

“Now, the Water seal. Tell me; who or what do you hold closest to your heart? You family? Your intelligence? The coven?

It takes you awhile to think of an answer but then you’re confident when it comes to you. San nods as he lets the answer sink in. “I was kind of hoping you’d stray and say my name, yknow,” he teases. You laugh and slap his palm lightly. “It very well could be. It’s kind of hard to pick though honestly. Maybe I just want to feel something again.”

San cocks an eyebrow, quite touched by your passion. “May this lift any heaviness you feel then”, he says, drawing circles into your palm. Your heart only flutters even more.

“Take a deep breath, master. The element will be sealed soon.”

Just like the previous time, the magick activates, and again, you feel a sharp pain, as if struggling against rough tides of water, your breath sucked out of you. San, humming as he absorbs your energy again, his eyes glowing a pale shade of blue this time. You exhale to get a hold of yourself as the feeling washes over as quickly as it came, clutching the edge of your table. You take deep breaths, your vision focusing on the blue glowing card on the selenite plate. You flip the card over, the serotonin boost seeing how gorgeous the water card was—metallic blue covering the borders of the card and the elements within the card at perfect places.

“I should give you a reading for fun”, you suggest, your fingertips tracing the edges of the card. San’s eyes light up at the idea. “We should do one when you’ve got all four elements. I’d love that.”

You slip the card above the Air element card, clearing out the table, preparing to get some rest as San accompanies you through the night.

Day three: Earth

“Now, Earth is known to be an element of grounding, practically, foundation and stability. It reminds you of who you are at the present moment and gives you a place to stand on”, San explains, flicking the coins on the table. “Just like the ground, it is reliable because it is strong enough to hold you up. The only thing is that it’s hard on you as you are hard on yourself.”

“Tell me; what do you tend to harbour the most? Grudges? The past? Emotions?” He asks again. You tap against your lips, wondering about the answer, and then you tell him once you were ready. He nods in acknowledgement. “Interesting answer, as always from you. You’d probably have a lot you held in, especially in the past hundreds years in solitude.”

“Meditation can only get you so far, when you remember that you were exiled for telling the truth”, you say quietly, staring at the moon, which had turned into a shade of ivory. “My sisters were everything to me.”

San knew that very well. Witches treated each other closer than what a conventional family did. A coven was supposed to protect and bond the sisters, not outcast them.

“But do you still have sisters that you want to see?”

You nod, your eyes twinkling at the thought of two precious sisters who had been there through everything. And you yearned to see them again, now even possible that the arbitrator had granted visitation rights. Maybe you’d send a falcon to them once you were done with your deck creation.

“Now, shall we begin? You’d best prepare yourself, master,” San says as he takes your hand in his. You feel your hands moulding into his automatically, nothing but comfort being offered.

Again, San begins extracting your energy and this time was no different from the previous—it stung, it hurt and a wave of nausea hits you this time. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear San’s laughter as the magick seems to tickle him if anything. And then, it was over.

You tilt your head backwards, trying to get some cool air, trying to let the nausea leave your system.

You feel a warm hand pat your back, then rubbing circles.

“You know, most witches would immediately throw up after this round. You’re holding up really well.”

“Guess I’m one of the best witches then?” You find the strength to joke a little. San laughs and replies, “one of my favourites too.”

The nausea soon goes away and colour starts returning to your cheeks. By then, you were already holding the Earth element card up against the moonlight, admiring the sand-coloured decals lined across the card, as well as the border.

Day four: Fire

San looks rather chirpy tonight, there was a bounce in his steps as he settles himself onto the lavender carpet. “Someone’s excited,” you smirk, putting one of your spell books away.

“Of course! Fire’s my favourite element”, he exclaims, playing around with your unfinished deck. You’ve had created a handful of elemental cards already, 12 of each element, while San was both in and out of your room. All there was left was the Fire element and the deck could almost be complete—you could already taste it. You already did a couple of readings as a warm up with San and you found out a couple of things through the divination readings.

One, his true purpose—other than aiding in the creation of divination decks—was to destroy other universes and guide the dead stars to the recreation of a new one.

Two, despite his chirpy demeanour, the cards revealed that there was some kind of loneliness he harbours, being detached and left to watch over the cosmos for millenniums.

Three, you sort of deduce that he was summoned also to seduce you in some sort of way—and he finds that amusing, and he doesn’t deny it.

Needless to say, San is greatly impressed by your divination skills and offhandedly mentions that he’s in love with the cosmos for bringing him to someone like you.

Soon enough, the both of you were back to business—sitting across each other, a wooden wand splayed across the table this time round.

He begins.

“Fire—the element of willpower, ambition and energy. Those who are able to wield this, wield it well, those who can’t—it takes them awhile. Fire is for inspiration, drive, passion. One of the most beautiful yet difficult elements to control. In the beginning, mankind was the first and the only mammals to be able to manipulate fire.”

“No wonder you like this element so much”, you point out as you scribble the rune onto the empty card.

“If you’re able to handle earth, fire might be a level up in intensity. Don’t push yourself if you can alright?” San reminds you, and you could spot the excitement glinting in his eyes. “Now for the seal; who would you sacrifice to the cosomos for your divination deck? Your immortality? Your coven? Or your family?”

That question weighs heavily in your mind and San gives you the time to answer as he plays with your fingers. You finally give him your answer, and he nods in understanding. “You’re willing to let that go?” You nod.

He smiles, “as long as you know it’s the right choice for you. Let’s begin.”

The ritual starts as usual—the swirl of flames from the candles, the howl of the winds. You prep yourself for the burn and it comes—albeit painfully. San’s eyes are fully engulfed in crimson red now, glowing as he feeds into your energy.

“Beautiful! Your essence is beautiful master! I’ve never felt such extraordinary energy from a witch!” He cries out as red fluid leaks down from his eyes. The runes and symbols on his limbs start glowing and his wings expand, filtering the moonlight. That is all you could remember before your mind buzzes, your ears ring and your head pounds as you black out.

Day ??

Your eyes flutter open, and something is different—you feel it. All the pain you’ve felt has faded, as if it never happened. In fact, energy was surging through you—so much energy. You slowly sit up as you look around the room. Everything looks the same as when you finished the fourth ritual. Perfectly at that moment, San emerges from the darkness and appears slightly different—his hair was slightly longer, his eyes had red smudges, which for some reason made him look even more attractive, and the third eye on his chest was a bright red.

“Hey, you’re awake”, he exclaims as he levitates over to you.

“Was it successful?” You ask. San furrows his eyebrows.

“My master, you were out cold for a couple of days, and the only thing you’re worried about is if the Fire ritual was successful? Care for yourself a little more would you?” San pouts as he pulls a cup of cold water into your arms with his magic.

You thank him softly as you take small sips.

“I was out for a few days from the ritual?” You ask again. San nods. Apparently you blacked out just right after San had finished feeding you, and he had caught you in time before you hit the floor.

“How are you feeling though? Any pain?” He asks, concerned as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. You shake your head and tell him you feel a little more different—more powerful or something. San pulls out the beautiful Fire card, reminding you of your craft. You break into a smile as you take the card off his hands and embrace him into a hug.

Now there was only one ritual left—whatever it was. San hasn’t told you yet and you were too engrossed with creating your cards that it slipped your mind.

“The last ritual,” you say, and you notice slight red tinting his cheeks and your curiosity peaks.

“The last ritual, is to bind us together”, he pauses, “through sex.”

Your jaw drops. “Holy fucking shit. Are you serious?”

San nods. “Yeah I am a behemoth in contract after all. That’s why I uh, said the only thing you needed to prepare for for the final ritual was your consent.”

It wasn’t about that. It was about you being fucked by a demon. You haven’t had physical contact with a human for years, let alone a whole ass demon.

“It might hurt compared to a mortal’s but I’ll try my best to be gentle”, he continues. But you see his confidence slowly dwindle the more you stay silent. “I need to consume your blood through biting as well in order for the pact to be bonded by blood.”

You never thought this would be how the contract would finish. Butterflies filled your stomach as you realise how attracted you were to this behemoth who, despite existing since the birth of the cosmos, was gentle and a soft, even a flirt. If anything, it was almost an honour to be one with him.

“Please, San. We can start the ritual. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to do it with,” you confess as you leave yourself vulnerable for him. That sealed your consent, and the markings on his limbs start glowing again. San held an expression of relief and affection. He reaches out to you and traps you on the bed, in between his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to hear that”, San confesses next, and his eyes glow a soft, dark red hue. You could see he was trying to hold back.

He leans in slowly and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He is lips are soft and there was a slight burn as you kissed him, but it only drives you to want to indulge in him even more. Only behemoth demons could taste this good. Maybe only San.

You feel his appendage hardening above you and your heart races. He wasn’t kidding—he was way bigger than any of your previous mortal partners. No way was he gonna fit in you. But at the same time, the challenge of trying to take him was exhilarating to think about.

As the kiss continues to deepen, San pulls off his vest, revealing it bare, and you realise that only his limbs were covered in symbols. He peels off your top and tosses it onto the floor as he continues to kiss down to your chin then to your neck. You exhale in pleasure as your fingers find locks of his hair. His tongue licks your neck and it drives you crazy from the slight pricks.

Your bare tits are out for him to gawk at and he dives into them, licking and squeezing them, only pooling the arousal in between your legs.

Your grip on his hair tightens as your soft moans increase in pitch.

“Does that feel good, master?” San asks as he shifts forward to give you a kiss.

You trace some of the runes on his muscled arm, recognising a few of it. “You’ll look even prettier when my rune is engraved onto you, San”, you flirt, and you feel his cock harden even more, pressing against your cunt. “Of course, only for you, master,” he hums as he rubs you against him, and your mind starts getting lost in the pleasure. He peppers kisses down from your nipples, to your abdomen, then your pelvis and finally to your pulsating pussy.

He spreads your legs, glancing up at you before licking your clitoris, the small barbed edges of his tongue causing your hips to jerk upwards. He dives in deeper, wanting to turn you into a mess.

San slowly plunges two fingers into your wet cunt, swallowing hard at how tight your pussy was, imagining how his cock would definitely fucking stretch you out perfectly. He glances up again, looking at you for a reaction before continuing to pump his fingers. Your moans fill the room as he finger fucks you in bliss, hitting the perfect spot. He adds another and your hips lift from the pleasure. It takes a while for you to adjust, and he pulls out his fingers, soaked in your essence. He gives his fingers a good suck.

“Witches tend to have good tasting essences, and yours just happens to taste the best.” Red creeps across your cheeks.

He removes his pants and underwear, revealing a girthy cock, red and angry, spilling with precum. You had to touch the sides of your lips to make sure you weren’t drooling too much. Fuck, how are you gonna take that in you?

“You’re gonna be fine”, San assures. “Tell me if it’s too much for you okay?”

You nod and San presses his tip at your entrance, and pushes in. Your eyes roll back as he pushes another inch in. Fuck, even the heavens could never compete with this feeling of pleasure. San pauses for second and your eyes flicker to his face, which is contorted in pleasure. He seemed like he was about to explode—and he wasn’t even fully in you yet.

“Y/n, you’re so tight. Gods, you’re squeezing me so good”, he pants, his grip tightening against the sheets beside you.

You decide to be a tease, and you shift your cunt deeper into your cock, and San fucking loses it. His eyes were flickering from crimson red to a lighter shade of red. “My master,” he pants in between. “If you’re gonna do it like that, the heavens won’t know what I’d do if I lost control.”

And that provokes you to tease him even more as you push yourself deeper, at the same time bringing your pleasure to almost a fever pitch. San groans as he pushes the rest of him into you.

“Fuck, San, you feel so amazing. If I knew you’d feel this good, I would have summoned you way earlier”, you cry out as he barely pulls out fully before rutting back into you.

San doesn’t forget to pamper you with kisses. It stings, definitely, but the pleasure is definitely overriding the pain. In fact, the pain was probably egging the pleasure even more.

His fingers trace the bulge at where his cock lies in you. “We fit so well, Master. Don’t you think so?”

You were starting to feel to fucked out to form any rational thought, but you nod, staring at him through hooded lids. He fucks into you a couple more times before you stop him. San’s face switches to an expression of concern immediately.

“I want to ride you. I want to feel your cock fully in me, San”, you barely say, rubbing his face gently with your thumb. He sighs in relief as he pulls out of you, causing you to cry in pleasure again, a string of precum connecting his cock to your pussy.

He takes your hand and guides you to his lap as the both of you get comfortable on his lap.

You adjust yourself to sit on his cock and you start grinding against him, the mix of his and your precum reducing the friction and enhancing the pleasure. You made sure you move forwards to reach the tip of his cock and grind backwards. San throws his head back, crying from pleasure as more precum leaks from his sensitive tip. Grinding up on his cock was making you even more soaking wet, sparking even more pleasure as your clit rubs against his wet cock. You continue to swerve your hips on his cock, loving the slight friction that tingles your core. It builds up from the previous time he ate you out, and when he fucked you in missionary.

“How does that feel, Master?” San asks, half lidded. He was starting to get lost in the pleasure every time you grind up to his tip.

“It feels amazing. I think I’m gonna cum-“ you fight to finish the sentence as you speed up, feeling your orgasm approaching sooner than you expected. You cry out in bliss, your orgasm flooding you as your pussy pulses against San’s twitching cock. San is doing everything in his power not to just lift you and fuck you like this, seeing how soaked you were in pleasure with him.

You feel his hands trail up to your ass as he lifts you up gently, angling his cock at your entrance, and slowly lets you go. Your hands press hard against his naked chest as tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes, while drool starts pooling at the corners of your lips as you sink onto his cock.

“You can take me, Master. I know you can”, he whispers into your ears. You sink in deeper to his length and your fingers dig into San’s broad shoulders. His hands snake to your thighs and he cheekily pushes you down and you scream from the fullness of his cock.

“There you go. There’s my good Master. I love how your pussy feels around my cock”, San encourages. He lifts your ass and drops you back into his cock. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You nod. “So good it’s almost sinful”, you mange out. San snickers. “Nothing too sinful if a behemoth is fucking you so well.”

You lean in for a kiss, and this surprises San but he immediately reciprocates, deepening the kiss quickly.

Soon enough, you are just mindlessly bouncing in his cock, every thrust sending you closer to the edge. San struggles to keep it together as well, as you feel him rutting his hips up.

“Master, I’m gonna cum”, San says, with an expression of desperation and desire.

“Go ahead. You’ve been doing so well”, you reply as you comb his hair back. He leans in, lips attached to your neck as he continues to fuck into you desperately. He bares his fangs and bites into you as his cock spurts into your cunt, filling you up to the brim. Blood pools at the base of your neck, and you cry from the simultaneous pain and pleasure, your second orgasm hitting you right at that point as you cream all over San’s cock.

San licks up the blood on your neck, and the skin heals almost as quickly as it broke just mere seconds ago, and he’s still fucking cumming in your pussy, his lower abdomen twitching.

He removes his lips from your neck and blood stains pool at the corner of his lips. You lift yourself off his cock, his cum just dripping out of your pussy. San holds you gently as he uses his free hand to collect the mixture of fluids on his fingers. He pushes his cum-covered fingers to you and you take it eagerly, savouring the taste albeit it being salty. He takes his turn to lick his hands.

“The contract has been sealed, master”, San confirms, and his eyes glow a bright red.

“That’s lovely. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, San”, you smile as you plant a kiss on his lips, which takes him by surprise, but he seems nothing less of satisfied.

As the planet begins to shift from the blood pact being created, it shakes the universe. You don’t know what’s about to happen, nor do you care. A burst of energy enters you as you levitate into the air, feeling the energy of the cosmos, as well as elements of the deck. Your cards shuffle, and float around you, and you see all of your creations in its glory. Your own divination deck, bonded to you by blood.

You take a deep breath in, as you settle back onto the bed, your cards shuffling back into its deck, onto the selenite plate. Something catches your attention, and you walk over to the full length mirror leaning against the wall. Something is glowing. You gasp, looking at the behemoth’s rune engraved into your skin, a beautiful crimson red as the glow fades. San, right behind you, tracing over your rune fondly. You look up to him and you notice he has the same rune engraved into this skin—and the only rune around his chest.

“Now we’re official bonded. You did so well, my master,” he compliments, stroking your hair gently, understanding how taxing the rituals must have been, still admiring the shared runes you both had on your bodies. “I will make you happy, I promise.” Your heart skips at beat at his words.

“San”, you call out, even though he’s standing right by you. He hums in attention, his eyes now on you.

“Do you think we could do this more often? Like the fucking?”

San is stunned for a moment as he processes the question. No one had asked him that before. Usually the binding rituals were solely to bind the energies of the witch and behemoth, and it is never done again. He’s confused but he agrees, seemingly happy that you enjoyed the ritual with him.

And that’s what you drown yourself in—doing divination readings for others and San as well, and taking his cock whenever you felt like it. It was too good to pass on. Not to mention he was so good at aftercare—making sure you were alright after every session. Undoubtedly, San, himself, was really starting to enjoy having sex with you as well.

You couldn’t think of wanting anything else.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #smut #ateez fic #choi san smut #ateez san #san x you #san x y/n #san x reader #j

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impala-dreamer · 3 months

Text

Legendary & Momentary

A Supernatural Story

~Two strangers meet again; two memories collide. Will things be different this time? Will there be more to their story or just a long overdue kiss goodbye?~

Dean x Reader, Sam, OMC

5,356 Words

NSFW. Show-Level Violence and Blood. Intimate Relations. Angst. Bittersweet Romance.

This fills "The Night They Met" square on @jacklesversebingo, and "First Time" on my Dreamer Bingo... hope you enjoy

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The bell chimed above the old red door and Y/N looked up from the counter.

She was filthy and tired. Her apron was covered in the greasy remnants from the lunch rush and her jeans were stained by a spilled cup of lukewarm coffee that she never got to drink. She pressed the tip of her pen to Mr. Taylor’s check and tried to finish calculating the tax when she saw him.

He walked through the door like no time had passed.

His hair was still stuck up in that familiar way that made it seem like he ran his hand through it constantly. His jeans were still ripped even though they fit a little bit tighter. The leather jacket was gone and his face held a few more lines than she remembered, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was him.

Dean Winchester.

Her breath caught and the pen moved across the thin green paper all on its own, leaving behind a smudged blue line.

“Shit!”

He didn’t look over, didn’t see her staring in awe.

Quickly, she tallied up the total and ripped the paper free. Mr. Taylor was still working on his tenth cup of coffee and she tucked the bill beneath the stainless steel creamer cup.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said with a distracted smile.

Dean scanned the small diner and paused on her face. He smiled passively and pointed to a booth by the window.

Startled and a little hurt by the lack of recognition in his eyes, Y/N simply nodded.

“Be- uh-” She cleared her throat and took a breath. “Be right there!”

Dean waved a hand her way as he slid into the long bench seat. “Take your time, Sweetheart.” The vinyl crackled and the springs creaked beneath him as he settled in the middle and set his elbows on the table. He clasped his hands as if in prayer and pressed his forehead to his knuckles.

Y/N tried not to stare but it was hard to blink, hard to move, hard to do anything but gawk at the man she’d once loved.

OK, maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something legendary.

At least to her.

She was freezing and terrified; lost to the daylight and trapped in some unholy hell. The rough ropes around her wrists were too tight, ripping at her delicate skin each time she dared to move. The turn of her shoulders was harsh. It kept her arms locked behind the back of the hard wooden chair and it was enough to send pins down to her fingers, numbing everything from joint to tip. The beer-soaked rag jammed into her mouth made it hard to breathe, scream, or even stay conscious.

Only four hours had passed but it felt like twenty.

Two other girls had gone before her, ripped from their seats by hungry hands and blood-stained lips that dragged them off into the shadows of the empty building. She didn’t know where they went, only that they didn’t return. Their screams echoed until they failed, fading from pained, wordless pleas to the pale final moans before death.

She was the only one left.

She chewed on the rag, pushed at it with her tired tongue, and shook her head furiously, trying anything to get free. The cursed fabric mocked her like a stripped screw, moving only enough to give her hope and no more.

She kicked at the floor, pushing down as hard and tipping the chair. She braced herself as best she could, tensing her body inwards as the cold, filthy concrete floor accepted her left side. Her head bounced off the stone and bright lights popped like camera flashes around the edges of her vision. She felt her stomach turn with pain and then there was nothing. The cold wrapped itself around her and the shadows drew in close, swallowing her whole.

Time passed around her but Y/N was out cold. She dreamt of the bar, of that stupid jerk who’d caught her eye and danced so close. Of the smell of his cologne, of the drugs he’d tipped into her drink. She felt his lips again, sliding from her mouth to her cheek and down, lingering over her pulse to suck a painful little mark on her throat. She felt his hand on her cheek, holding her hostage to his lust.

Another hand hit her cheek, tapping gently, and Y/N blinked into the darkness, focusing finally on a pair of unbelievable green eyes. They reminded her of a thriving forest of deep evergreens lit by the golden rays of sunrise. She smiled.

“Good. You’re alive.”

The eyes came with a face that pulled back a few inches and captivated her addled mind. Freckles. Lashes. Crooked nose. Plump lips.

She shook her head. “What?”

“You gotta get up.”

Y/N’s gaze narrowed. “Who are you?”

A half smile, a tiny laugh. “I’m Dean.” He lifted her head, gently cradling the wound on her temple. He leaned in, glancing at each of her eyes, gauging the damage. “Can you tell me your name?”

She nodded and swallowed, clearing her throat. “Y/N.”

Dean smiled again. “Good. Nice to meet you.”

In a flash, she was sitting up again as he placed the chair back on four legs. Her bones rattled as wood hit concrete and her vision wavered.

“What’s going on- who are you?” she said again, not remembering his name or finding it a suitable response.

Nimble fingers worked on the knot at her wrist. “My name’s Dean Winchester.” When the ropes fell, he rushed around to help her up, extending a big hand. “And I’m here to rescue you.”

He beamed with pride and she laughed softly.

“You’ve always wanted to say that, haven’t you?”

Dean bit his lip and shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

Her hand slipped into his palm and warmth ran up her arm, filling her with a sense of safety she couldn’t fully understand.

“I guess not.”

“Can you stand?” he asked, closing his fingers. They were so long they nearly eclipsed her entire hand.

Y/N drew herself up and took a steadying breath. “I think so.”

Something fell in the distance. Metal crashed. Glass shattered. A deep roar filled the air, growing louder by the second.

“Good,” Dean said, gripping her tighter. “Because now we gotta run.”

Sam waltzed in like he owned the place, his long hair whipping in the wind he created when he threw the door open.

With a cocky nod at the waitress, he threw himself onto the dull red vinyl across from Dean and slapped his hand on the table, startling his brother.

“You sleeping?”

Dean sneered and dropped his hands into his lap. “No. I’m thinking.”

Sam chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Ya know-” Dean bit his tongue and shook his head, refusing to get into it. He was road-weary and exhausted, ready for a burger and a bed and nothing more. “Whatever. What did you find out?”

“Well…” Sam pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and swiped a finger across the screen. “Did some digging at the rectory and Father-”

“The where?”

Dean grinned like an idiot and Sam rolled his eyes.

“The rectory.”

Clearing his throat in subtle reprimand, Sam carried on, expounding upon the history of some priest who had died in the town in 19-something-or-other. Dean couldn’t pay attention. The waitress behind the counter had caught his eye and his brain was working in overdrive. There was something about her that was pulling him in. Something familiar and slightly painful that he couldn’t put his finger on.

She was pretty. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, her face was dabbed with what he hoped was flour, and she wore a tight navy tee that showed off curves that could drive any soul mad. There was a softness to her that broke his heart, a kindness that lit her energy. When she smiled, he could tell that it wasn’t real, wasn’t completely true. She knew things that other people didn’t, things that would invoke Lovecraftian nightmares in most, and yet, she kept herself busy in a diner in a little town in the middle of nowhere. He could see it in her eyes. It was a look you couldn’t lose once you knew the truth about the world.

It was a look he knew all too well. One that he saw in the mirror every morning.

She turned toward him with two plastic-covered menus under her arm and a pot of coffee in hand.

When their eyes met she froze. Dean could see her take a deep breath and he stared as her face etched itself in his memory banks.

His heart ached.

Y/N.

He couldn’t believe it. After all these years, there she was- just as beautiful, just as soft and enticing. He bit down hard into his bottom lip and let the film in his mind play.

“Where are we going?” Y/N was panting; desperate to keep up but exhausted from her torturous night. Dried blood caked her throat and fresh release bubbled like a thick ooze on the side of her head. Her skin was paling; her eyes were blurry.

Her hand felt so small against his and he squeezed it hard, refusing to let go. Twice, she’d stumbled next to him, and twice, Dean had scooped her up, unwilling to lose another victim to his own weakness and the monsters of the world.

Dean stopped for a moment and looked around. They were in a labyrinth of rooms deep inside a derelict factory with little light to guide them and no way to remember every twist and turn as they ran through.

“Uh… out,” he said, unsure but afraid to say so.

Y/N tugged on his hand and made him look at her. “Out?”

“Yeah. Out. We’re getting out of here!” His brow creased and his lips fell into a straight line. He was worried.

She shivered. “How?”

He looked around again, forgetting which way they had come from. “I… I don’t know yet.”

“Great.” Frustrated and close to passing out again, Y/N dropped his hand and spun around. “What is happening?”

Dean winced. He could hear the breakdown in her voice. That moment everyone went through when they figured out the worst day of their life was about to get way worse. He sighed and watched her spin out, sad for her but unable to do much until she worked through it.

“I go out for a few drinks and-” She closed her eyes tight as the night washed over her. “That guy- he fucking-” Her hands flew to her head. “He must have drugged me and then… he was…” Her right hand slid down to her throat, gingerly dabbing at the two tiny holes below her jaw. She pulled back and looked down at the flakes of blood that clung to her fingertips. “He-”

Dean watched her shoulders tense, her breath quicken. She shook her head.

“No. No. No fucking way. That’s not possible! It’s not- he wasn’t-”

He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, waiting patiently.

“Go on,” he urged gently.

“And the others- the redhead and the bartender they-”

“Mhm…” Dean shook his head slowly. He had found their bodies a few moments before stumbling upon Y/N.

“They’re dead.” Y/N grabbed her stomach as if she might puke. “They’re dead because-”

“Almost there…”

“Because that guy…”

Dean leaned in, slightly amused by the gears he imagined turning in her head. “Was a…”

Y/N’s frame went limp and her soul seemed to drop. “Vampire.”

Dean snapped his fingers. “There it is. Good job.” He moved forward to take her hand once more but Y/N flinched away.

“No! This cannot be happening!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry but it is. That guy from the bar is a bloodsucking asshole and he’s coming to finish you off. That is, if you don’t let me get you outta here.” Again, he reached for her hand, and this time she let him have it, squeezing tight.

She gaped up at him. “A vampire.”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes went wide as she stared off over his shoulder. “A vampire.”

Dean sighed. “I know this is hard to deal with but-”

Y/N yanked his arm hard and tugged him closer, frantically pointing with the other hand. “No! A vampire. Behind you!”

The moment stretched out between them like contrails, visible but nothing, there then gone, fading into the atmosphere.

Y/N stared into the green eyes that so often haunted her dreams. Those eyes she saw when nightmares overtook her evenings or when she turned her mind back to lovers past. The eyes she spent too long praying would sweep over her face just one more time.

Her cheeks burned. Her heart skipped a beat and then another until a pain in her chest made her take a deep breath.

He recognized her. She knew it in the way his lips parted slightly with surprise, the way he blinked a few too many times to clear his vision lest she be a phantom.

She smiled softly and he returned it, dipping down so he could look up through impossibly thick lashes and break her heart all over again.

Dean swung and the vampire ducked, springing back up to swat at Dean as if he were an irritating insect and nothing more.

The way he spun around was impressive. Y/N stared in awe as Dean turned on his heel and pulled a long blade from beneath his leather jacket. It was like watching an action movie. The slow-motion was in her head, but the sound effects were real and so was the machete.

“You murdered my husband!” the man yelled, his deep voice bellowing through the empty room.

Dean looked up from the ground and touched the back of his hand to the corner of his mouth, dabbing at the cut and fresh crimson leaking free. “Husband, huh?” He laughed and rolled to his knees. “Didn’t think this town had much of a gay scene.”

The vampire sneered, revealing a mouth of vicious teeth. He growled and Dean popped up onto his boots, charging forward again.

Y/N felt as if her feet were glued to the cement, encased in fear and indecision.

She should run, that much she knew, but something held her there. Something told her that running was pointless. If she was going down, she’d go with a fight.

When Dean next hit the floor, the vampire turned his gaze upon Y/N and her stomach flipped. Her feet magically moved and she rushed forward as if puppeted by some Hollywood stuntman. She landed a punch, but it was mocked by a deep, blood-thick laugh and a return that knocked her to her knees.

“Y/N! Just run!” Dean was valiant, coming up behind the monster with tight fists and a shining blade.

“I’m not leaving you!” she yelled back. She meant it, but the justification was blurry. She didn’t know him, didn’t really owe him anything. What was keeping her from running away like a spring doe being stalked by a hunter?

In the brief moment when Dean looked at her, the upper hand was lost. The sweet smirk was knocked off of his freckled face and he hit the floor in a painful crash of flesh and denim.

Moved by some fateful force, the machete slid across the floor and landed at Y/N’s feet.

Her eyes narrowed on Dean who could barely lift his head as cartoon birds circled in his vision. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and lifted the blade, holding it tight. Her knuckles turned white with the force and she reared back, ready to strike.

From the ground, Dean watched her attack. “Neck! Go for the neck!”

Feeling a step away from superhero status, Y/N swung with all the force left in her body. She closed her eyes as the sharp edge found its target and nearly retched when it slid through flesh.

The vampire roared in annoyance rather than pain. Y/N peeked an eye open to discover that the machete had made contact, but not much more, only penetrating about an inch into the vampire’s neck. She grimaced and yanked the handle, pulling the blade free.

Blood shot from the wound and Y/N gagged at the garnet fountain.

“I’m sorry!” she screamed, not sure to whom. If the vampire wasn’t pissed enough already, he was sure to rip her to shreds now.

As the fiend stumbled, Dean regained his wind and appeared at Y/N’s side.

“Takes a bit more force than you might think,” he said with a reassuring wink as he took the blade from her hand. “Gotta put your whole ass into it.”

Y/N hung back and stared while Dean demonstrated.

The vampire’s head rolled free from its pedestal and landed at her feet just like the machete had.

She swallowed hard. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Dean stood over the collapsed corpse and wiped the blade on his jeans. “Yeah, but you learned something.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, in shock and exhausted. “That the world is fucked.”

“Mhm.” Dean grinned and hopped over the body to stand by her side. “And what else?”

“Never half-ass a beheading?”

“Yep!” His wink was breathtaking. Even covered in blood and bruised, he was stunningly handsome and Y/N held her breath for a long moment.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Take me home before I lose my mind…”

He couldn’t help but stare. It was almost unbelievable that she was there. After a decade, how was it that they randomly found each other again? Had she always been here, waiting tables and waiting on him? Did some turn of fate drag them together again?

Y/N exhaled gently and Dean sucked it in, breathing in the sweet air around her: coffee and french fries, and a hint of apple shampoo.

Time slowed down for them both and caught in its warm embrace, there was no other vision but the gentle smile on her lips, no other sound but the sigh she let loose.

Sam broke the trance, clearing his throat and starting the clock again. The earth seemed to lurch forward and Dean felt a pit in his stomach.

“Um, yeah, hi.” Sam looked up at Y/N, trying to remain kind but annoyed to be interrupted.

Y/N jumped back into herself and set the menus down unceremoniously. “Hi.”

Her eyes never left Dean and Sam wasn’t thrilled. He rolled his eyes and turned over the ceramic coffee cup next to the napkin holder before tapping the edge.

“Coffee. Please?”

Dean wanted to kick him, to castrate his rude brother with a switch shot under the table, but he held back, content to get lost in the memory of her.

“Sure.” She shook herself and smiled at Sam. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to stand in the hall, Dean,” she said with a small laugh.

Y/N ripped her keys from the apartment door and stepped inside. The lamps on either side of a lumpy purple couch were on and the small living area was bright. She sighed, happy to be home, and then gestured for Dean to enter.

He nodded with a smile and ducked his head as he stepped in, as if unsure of the height of the ceiling.

“Someone else home?”

She squinted in confusion. “No?”

“Ah. You left the lights on,” he observed, pointing at the lamps. They didn’t match and the shades were dusty, but it added to the effect, casting a soft light on a room full of hometown memories and highschool dreams lost long ago.

Y/N toed her shoes off and shrugged. “I keep them on so the bad guys think I’m home. Guess I should have realized that bad guys are outside too, huh?” Her focus faded as she spoke and her fingers pressed into the wound at her neck. “Is- is this all real?”

Dean chewed his bottom lip and sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“How do I- you- I mean… how am I supposed to deal with this?”

Green eyes swept her pretty face. He felt sad for her, but knew she’d be able to handle it. She was strong. Not strong enough to gank a vamp, but not bad enough for a first try.

“Well,” he said, pursing his lips to hide a sly smile. “I drink…”

Y/N smiled. “That I can do.”

She fetched too cold, brown bottles from the tiny fridge. Dean popped the caps free with a flick of his ring and Y/N stared at him in wonder. He was a mess. His jacket was too big, his jeans were ripped and falling down. Blood was smeared on his face and his hands were filthy. Still, he was cute. More than cute, if she was being honest, and she felt her face heat up whenever he looked at her for longer than a fleeting second.

He cleared his throat. “Here’s to not being dead.”

Dean raised his bottle and she tapped hers against it.

“Here, here.”

The necklace around his neck was twisted, and Y/N reached up to fix it, gently turning the cord until the knot was back in place against the nape of his neck. Her fingertips brushed through the short hairs on his neck and Dean sucked in a deep breath of her.

“Apples,” he whispered, startling her.

Y/N blinked up at him. “What?”

“You uh-” He looked away, feeling shy, knowing his cheeks were red. “You smell like apples.”

“That’s my shampoo,” she explained, dragging her hand down his shoulders and across, making sure the small, bronze pendant was centered. “I’m surprised you can smell it, I’m covered in muck.”

“The blood just adds to it,” he teased.

Her palm pressed against his heart and Dean wondered if she could feel it pounding away inside. He wanted to reach for her, to push his hand through her hair and drag her close, kiss away the trauma of the night, and lay her down.

Y/N felt it too, that undeniable urge to press up on her toes and lick deep into his mouth, but nerves pulled her away.

She let out a hard breath and backed away.

“I should shower,” she said, turning away and shattering the moment.

Dean shifted on his feet and looked over his shoulder at the door. “Yeah, I should probably get going…”

“No!” Y/N gasped at her aggressive tone and laughed. “I mean, just- don’t? You can, um… shower after me. I’ll be quick. I just- I…” She looked down at her feet and bit her lip, innocent and alluring all at once. “I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

His heart ached. “OK. Yeah. I uh, I’ll stay.”

He should have run. Should have dropped her off and left. Why did he have to walk her to the door? Why did he have to step inside? Why didn’t he kiss her?

Y/N smiled. “Thank you, Dean.”

Y/N knew she was breathing heavily but she couldn’t control it. She tried to hold it as she filled the small white mug. The steam and her shaking hand made it hard to keep from spilling, but amazingly, she got through.

Dean was staring, she could feel it.

Was he going to say anything? Did she have to be the one?

Maybe he doesn’t remember. Maybe she got something wrong.

When she looked back, the green told her everything she needed to know.

Y/N took a long sip of her beer. “Honestly, if you traveled back in time to tell twelve-year-old me that vampires were real, she would have been ecstatic.”

Thirty minutes later, the entire room smelled like apples and they sat on the ugly purple couch together, clean and damp from the hot shower.

“And now?”

“Not so much.”

Dean laughed and drained his bottle. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but somehow, the more you know, the worst it gets.”

Y/N considered his words and took her last sip. “So this is your life? You run around saving damsels in distress and killing bloodsuckers like Buffy?”

“Buffy? No. I could kick Buffy’s ass.”

Y/N laughed. “Yeah, right…”

She leaned forward and took his bottle, placing it with hers on the coffee table. The big shirt she wore gaped at the neck and Dean tried his best not to look, only sneaking a quick peek.

He adjusted his own collar, tugging it away from his throat. Either he wasn’t breathing too well or the cotton was shrinking. “Thanks for the clothes by the way.”

Y/N sat back. “Of course. Couldn’t have you running around naked.”

His mouth went dry.

“They’re my brother’s, if you’re wondering.” She leaned back and hugged her arms around her chest. “There’s no… guy or anything.”

He had been wondering and now his thoughts ran amuck. “Ah. Cool.”

“And you? You got a girl back home… wherever home is?”

Dean smiled sadly and shook his head. Where the hell was home? “Nope. No girls. Just me…”

“That’s too bad…”

Her voice trailed off at the end in a sweet whisper that had him leaning a bit closer. The ends of the couch were too far apart, driving them both mad.

Y/N shivered suddenly and quickly rubbed the back of her arms.

“Cold?”

Dean’s voice was lush with concern and she smiled shyly.

“A little…”

He opened his arms and she scooted across the cushions to settle against him. He was warm and solid; so gentle when he reached his left arm over her shoulder. His fingers hovered as if afraid to land before gingerly falling to cover her arm.

She sucked in a breath at the touch and Dean stiffened.

“Is that OK?”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

His grip tightened; his breath calmed.

Y/N curled into him and laid her hand on his chest. It was intimate and delicate but Dean didn’t flinch. He closed his eyes and turned into her, resting his chin atop her head. Warmth and shampoo filled his senses and he sighed, content for the first time in a long time.

There were no screeching tires or screaming victims; no geysers of blood, no singed flesh.

It was peaceful. It was incredible.

Her fingers curled, bunched up the fabric of the plain white t covering him. She cuddled closer, needing him to take all the pain and fear away, wanting him to know how much she wanted him.

“You saved my life today,” she said softly as her nails danced across the dip in his clavicle.

Dean’s brain clouded with desire and he exhaled through puckered lips, trying to stay calm.

“That’s my job.”

“Another hour and I’d be dead.”

His arm tensed on her shoulder, drawing her even closer. “I don’t wanna think about that.”

She looked up at him, pretty eyes dimmed with arousal. “Me either.”

Heart pounding, he took a chance and dipped down to kiss her lips. It was slow and soft, dangerously electric. His right hand found her cheek; his thumb brushed over her lashes.

“Is this OK?” he asked, still somehow unsure even as she kissed him back.

Her breath swept across his plump bottom lip. “Yes.”

She tugged at his shirt again and parted her lips, dragging in a deep breath of him. He kissed her a second time and her eyes fluttered as sparks ran down her spine. He sucked at her lip, licked deep inside, whispered her name like a prayer.

Y/N against him and he lost his mind, shifting in his seat to push her back and loom over her. His hand trailed down her side and across her belly before slowly moving upwards. He pressed the flat of his palm against her breast and Y/N arched up into it.

“This OK?”

She laughed inside a moan and nodded. “Yeah…”

His fingers closed and she melted.

“Fuck…”

Dean kissed across her jaw, blew a hot breath over the outer shell of her ear. She tugged at his shoulders, dug her nails into his smooth skin, held her breath as he plucked at her nipple.

She was dizzy on his kisses, drunk on the heat between them. When he slid his hand to her thigh she sucked in a quick breath that gave him pause.

“Is this OK?” he asked again.

Gently laughed at his nerves, Y/N grabbed his wrist and pressed his fingers against her damp panties. “Yes.”

He rubbed a firm circle over her covered pussy. “And this?”

She spread her legs and nodded. “Yes.”

Through the thin cotton, he pressed his middle finger against her hole. “This?”

She shuddered. “Fuck. Yes!”

“What about-”

She stopped him cold, sitting up to grab his neck and pull his lips back to hers.

“What about you fuck me, Dean.” She licked at his mouth and his eyes glazed over with desire. “Is that OK?”

Dumbstruck, he nodded blankly.

“Good.”

She winked and his fate was sealed.

His mind was reeling but his lips were failing him. Say something, you idiot!

He couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink lest she was a phantom and he had finally lost his mind.

They hung there in silence as the eons stretched out around them. It wasn’t slow motion, it was worse. Time had stopped entirely. There was only the two of them, existing in a void of remembrance and hope.

Exhausted and sated, they lay on the floor, catching their breaths and fighting sleep.

Y/N tugged a crocheted blanket off the arm of the couch and fanned it out to cover them both. Dean bent his arm and tucked the throw pillow under his head.

Y/N snuggled her back into his side and Dean draped his right arm over the perfect curve of her waist.

Her hand covered his; their fingers fit together like the gears of a watch.

A watch that he’d have to check soon.

As if she could sense their time running out, Y/N squeezed his arm tight around her and sighed.

“Stay? Just for the night?”

He swallowed down all the usual lies; pushed away his father’s condemning voice calling him back.

“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss into her hair and bent his knees behind hers. “For the night.”

A yawn shook her and Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed. She smiled and wiggled against him, safe and happy, at least for a moment.

“We should get some breakfast later,” she sang, half in the arms of sleep. “I’m starving.”

Dean closed his eyes and wished he could stay.

Y/N’s breathing slowed and Dean laid awake, focusing on each rise and fall of her chest. He looked around the small room and wondered if he could ever really stay. Was there a chance here? A chance with her? Some magical new life waiting for him if he just took a leap of faith? Could she be the place he could finally call home?

No. It could never be. She wasn’t some ethereal beauty sent by God to tempt him away from his life. She was just a distraction. A beautiful, intoxicating distraction. And no matter what he felt in that moment, he knew it wasn’t love, it was comfort. It wasn’t forever, only momentary.

He was gone before the sun rose.

Sam reached for a menu and pursed his lips at the slow service.

Y/N blinked to clear her head. She took a breath and smiled kindly at Dean.

“And what about you? Can I get you anything?”

Her voice rang through him like a church bell, calling him back home. Maybe there was a reason they chose this case, in this part of the country, in this sleepy town.

Dean smiled and took a leap.

“I don’t know but… I think I owe you breakfast…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

#spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean/reader #dean x reader #angst #jacklesversebingo23

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shares-a-vest · 10 months

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@steddiemas Day 6: Baking and Cookie Decorating (Winter Wednesday)

Sicky-sweet Steddie decorating cookies from Dustin's (very irritated) POV

“Steve! What the fuck?”

“Dusty!”

He stills at the sight of his mother, materialising from behind the island countertop with a fresh tray of Christmas cookies in hand. Yeah sure, they smell delicious but Dustin still manages to make the intended disapproving face at her chiding.

Honestly, the woman swears like a sailor. She’s only scolding him because they have company. That company being Steve, who is currently standing at the counter too, piping bag in one hand and a cookie in the other as he stares back at him like a guppy.

Dustin glares. If he was still going to hang around here so much, why didn’t he just move in with them and not the Munsons when his parents skipped town?

He purses his lips. Eddie.

This all has to have something to do with Eddie. Why else would Steve be standing in the kitchen, wearing a frilly apron and looking far too pleased with himself while he and Dustin’s mother bake what can only be described as an industrial amount of Christmas cookies?

He has that look too, all angelic and innocent and cozy like an absolute dingus. The same look Steve has had on his face ever since he and Eddie announced they were an item.

A sicky-sweet, ooey-gooey annoying item.

Dustin opens his mouth to say all of that but he catches Steve catches his eye and smirks at him. Shit.

He looks at the cookies, smelling a hint of cinnamon.

Steve quickly returns to his task: shakily piping icing onto the cookie in his hand just in the knick of time as Dustin’s mother turns around.

Goddamn it, their aprons match.

Dustin pinches his nose.

“Steve wanted to make some cookies for Eddie and Wayne,” his mother explains, arranging the newly baked tray on the counter in what appears to be her typical assembly line.

“Yeah…” Steve nods, channelling any shred of concentration he has into the wobbly icing he is applying to a tree-shaped cookie a mere inch from his face.

Dustin reaches for the platter plate filled with neatly decorated cookies but his mother waves his hand away.

“I don’t get any!” he asks, “They can’t all be for Eddie!”

“No,” his mother says and he smiles as she gestures to a Tupperware container already filled, “Those are for Wayne to take for his last shift at the Plant before Christmas break.”

“And mine are…”

“Oh, Dusty!” she grumbles, “I’ll make you some another time! I thought you’d be gone all afternoon.”

“I ran out of money.”

“Poured your pocket money into trying to beat the Star Wars Flyer high score again, didn’t you?” Steve mocks, snorting a laugh as he sets a cookie on the Christmas plate.

Steve’s icing efforts are so wobbly and uneven that they look as if he has left them out on his back decking on a hot summer afternoon.

“No,” Dustin lies, “I – ”

The sound of the door out to the backyard squeaks open and Eddie skips inside like he’s a perfectly-timed sidekick from a goddamn TV show.

Dustin glares again. Bingo!

“Ms H.,” Eddie says, giving a faint salute before producing a bag of something from behind his back.

“Thank you, thank you thank you!”

Dustin watches, mouth agape as his mother makes a beeline for Eddie, takes the bag of flour (as the label says) and kisses the idiot right on his cheek.

Eddie smiles, his deceptively cherubic dimples indenting his cheeks as he flutters his eyelashes like the world’s biggest kiss-ass.

He then rounds the counter and slips onto the kitchen stool, practically knocking Dustin off his axis as he goes.

“Dusty,” he quips, straight in his ear.

“Piss off!” Dustin curses, flinging his arm through the non-existent space between them to shrug him off.

“Dusty!”

Eddie raises a hand to his chest, clutching his proverbial pearls, “So rude of you to speak to a guest like that, Dustin. And in your mother’s home!”

Steve barks a laugh, squeezing his piping bag enough that a great blob of icing plops onto a bare cookie.

“Oh, no,” he mumbles, looking down at the spillage utterly shell-shocked.

Eddie plucks a cookie from the Christmas plate, and Dustin folds his arms with a huff as he watches him hold it up without any protests from his mother.

He holds the cookie up, examining it carefully.

“Did you make this all by yourself, Stevie?” Eddie feigns wondering aloud, using that tone he does with Steve that is all flirtatious.

“With Claudia’s help,” Steve replies, smiling all sickly sweet it makes Dustin want to barf.

Again – ooey-gooey and just so goddamn annoying.

Claudia elbows Steve in the side and chuckles, “I only provided the recipe, really.”

“You’re giving away family recipes now!” Dustin complains.

“I’d hardly call Gan-Gan’s recipes sacred,” his mother defends, making a face, “In fact, I’ve changed them so much over the years, they are more mine than hers, so I can give them to who I damn well please.”

Eddie leans forward, pointedly looking at Dustin and nods in condescending agreement, his scraggly hair flopping in his face

His mother doesn’t catch it – she never does – and simply turns back to the oven. Meanwhile, Steve reaches for another cookie and hands it across the counter.

Dustin perks up until he bypasses him and hands Eddie another treat.

“Here,” he says with a flick of the wrist, “Try this one.”

Eddie again scrutinizes the treat, pouting and all considerate with the typical level of dorky theatrics Steve seems to go ga-ga for.

In rolling his eyes, Dustin regrettably glances at Steve, who is biting his lip with anticipation.

Eddie takes a bite, humming loud and rather obscenely and yet, once again, Dustin witnesses no scandalised response from his mother.

“You like it?” Steve smiles.

“Takes as good as you, sugarplum,” Eddie hums, dropping – and spitting – crumbs everywhere.

“Guys!” Dustin begs, fearing his eyes are going to roll into the back of his skull and never return, “Stop it!”

“Dusty!” now his mother stands to attention, “You can stop being so rude!”

Eddie snickers and hops up from his seat to stand impossibly close to Steve at the counter. Steve hands him the piping bag, the pair grinning at each other as they set about decorating yet another tray of Christmas cookies.

Dustin stomps his foot and marches out of the kitchen, ignoring the chorus of giggles behind him.

#sooo late with this one in my timezone 😅#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #henderfam #steddie ficlet #steddiemas #claudia henderson 🐈

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velvette-creations · 3 months

Text

In a vision or in none

House of the Dragon: Helaena + fem!reader (platonic)

Rating: Teen

WC: 1.5 k

Prompt: Art Therapy for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Mentions of the death, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: You seek to assist your queen when she becomes burdened with her visions

The chalk leaves a powdery residue on Helaena’s fingertips as she silently moves through her chambers, caught in an invisible dance. Jaehaera sits beside you on the floor, both of you watching in awe as the queen brings the images only she can see in her mind to life. The wolf-headed figure, a source of unexplained fear, sends a chill down your spine. Helaena reaches for a piece of yellow-hued chalk and begins to sketch the shape of a dragon’s egg on the wall, a testament to her unique ability. One that many seem to ignore entirely.

“An egg!” Jaehaera squeaks, pointing at the image before giggling.

“Very good, princess,” you smile, smoothing a hand down her silvery hair. Today, she wears it braided neatly down her back, no longer wearing the style she oft shared with her twin, Jaehaerys. She was always such a shy young girl, seemingly trapped in her own mind, much like her mother. It breaks your heart to watch how they’ve adjusted to Jaehaerys’s death, but the ghost of the boy still looms in the castle—a tragedy to take one so young. You go to bed many nights with guilt gnawing in your stomach for trading the night shift with another maid, perhaps if you had been there…though there is no use pondering such thoughts. What’s done is done.

She trades the yellow chalk for a green one, creating a second egg, then makes a third of reddish hue before creating flames to surround them. The chalk falls from her hand, clattering to the floor as she steps away from the wall before slowly rocking back and forth on her feet.

“Ziry kivio dārilaros issa, se zȳhon suvio perzō vāedar issa. (He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire),” she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave, speaking as if caught in a trance. The words roll off her tongue expertly, and you realize this is the first time you’ve heard her speak in the ancient Valyrian tongue.

She steps back over to the wall and creates the form of a naked woman being consumed by flames. Your eyes widen, and you glance down at Jaehaera, whose attention is now occupied by a wooden toy. You did not wish to interrupt the queen, so you swallow down your inquiry. You can ask at a later time. Septa Alyane comes to collect the small girl for her lessons.

“Mama, Mama!” Jaehaera smiles, scurrying over to hug her mother’s legs before being taken away.

Helaena reaches her hand down, letting it rest gently on her daughter’s head before the small girl peels away from her. Helaena hums as she places the chalk down, walking over to the basin to clean her hands before dropping to her knees in front of the tiny wooden cages that house her crickets.

“Your Grace, may I ask what you said earlier?” you ask softly as you watch the insect crawl onto her finger.

“I do not always know what they mean. I only heard it in my head and felt compelled to utter them out loud,” she answers softly, her eyes flickering up to meet your gaze before quickly adverting them.

“Oh, I see,” you reply, looking down at the needlepoint in your hands.

“I wish I knew how to explain them better,” she admits.

“It seems a heavy burden to be cursed with a sight you cannot understand,” you say sympathetically.

“I suppose we all have our burdens.”

“There was a dreamer in your familiar line….Daenys, I believe. She is the one who saved the Targaryens from the Doom. Mayhaps your father’s books might hold some answers for you,” you suggest.

“Aegon had them removed.”

“Which means they must be somewhere. They did not just disappear,” you smile.

She returns the soft gesture before placing the chirping cricket back in the cage. “Would you help me…to find them?”

“I would like that very much, Your Grace.”

The days proceed as thus: waking in the morning and breaking your fast before readying Queen Helaena and Princess Jaehaera for the day with the assistance of other handmaidens, playing the small princess on the floor until it is time for her lessons. Helaena marks her visions on the walls, and the afternoon is spent pouring over the histories in the library in the hope of answers. When Helaena reaches a certain level of frustration, moving her jaw and clenching her fists, you indicate that it’s time for a break and spend time walking through the gardens with her. It brings her peace as she points at the crawling bugs, informing you of their names and purposes.

“We all have a purpose in this world,” she hums.

“I suppose you are correct in that manner, Your Grace,” you smile.

“I fear I may never find answers to my visions,” she admits as an eight-legged spider crawls across her splayed palm.

“Do not give up hope just yet, Your Grace,” you encourage, though you fear much had been lost in the Doom and answers may never be found.

You find her one morning, still in her night shift, hugging her knees to her chest as she rocks back and forth. Jaehaera peers out through the curtain surrounding her bed, purple eyes wide and worried as she watches her mother.

“It is alright, princess. Come to me,” you coo, opening your arms to the young girl. She hurries into them, and you hug her close, rubbing her back before placing her in another handmaiden’s arms. “Tend to her, and I will see to the queen. Please make sure no one disturbs us.”

She nods her understanding before leaving with Jaehaera. You sink to your knees behind Helaena, placing your hands on her shoulders. She digs the heels of her hands against her eyes.

“Make them stop, make them stop,” she wails, and it becomes clear she is overburdened with these visions she cannot figure out. You are unsure if they have grown more intense or if she has simply hit her limit with them.

“Shhh, take a deep breath,” you whisper.

She gulps for her air as she lifts her head, cheeks sticky with tears. You gently smooth your fingers through her mussy hair, tugging it away from her face. “I don’t want them anymore!” Her voice warbles through the air, and your heart breaks. Why have the Gods cursed her so? Why bestow a gift upon her that she can not comprehend? It seems unusually cruel, and you're reminded these are the same Gods who claimed the lives of two young princes. She clings to you, pressing her face into your chest. In the moment, she reminds you of a distraught child turning to their mother for comfort.

You hold her silently in your arms, stroking her hair and hoping you are providing her some relief. Her ragged breathing slows, and she glances up at you. “I am…better now.”

You give her a half smile. “Are you? You needn’t lie to me, Your Grace.”

Her lower lip wobbles. “I want them out of my head.”

You think momentarily, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “I may have an idea, Your Grace.”

“What is it?” Her voice is soft and curious.

“Come, you must stand with me,” you smile, helping her to stand before walking over to her desk and taking a piece of chalk into your hand before placing it in hers. She gives you a curious look, head tilting to the side. “Instead of drawing what you see in your head, draw what you wish to see. Not what plagues you, but what inspires you or what you wish to come true.”

Helaena moves over to a blank space before lifting her quivering hand. She begins to create, moving with dedication instead of a phantom force controlling her. You recognize the silhouette of Dreamfyre with Helaena and two other figures perched on her back.

“Who is with you?” you inquire.

“You and Jaehaera,” she smiles, turning to face you. Her cheeks are rosy, “We are flying across Blackwater Bay!” There is joy in her voice, and she turns to continue her drawing—a picnic in the Kingswood, the three of you holding hands while walking along the beaches of Dragonstone and climbing the Dragonmont in search of dragon eggs.

“Lovely ideas, Your Grace, and I know of one we can make come true.”

The day proceeds as thus: waking in the morning and breaking your fast before readying Queen Helaena and Princess Jaehaera for the day before making way to the dragonpit with intertwined hands. The three of you easily fit on the large blue and silver dragon, with you behind Helaena and Jaehaera in front of her. The wind whips your cheeks, and laughter peels through the air. Jaehaera picks wildflowers while Helaena lays her head on your lap while you feed her fresh raspberries. She has come alive again and is no longer chained to her visions for now. You hold on to hope that this peace will last.

“You have set me free,” she smiles, her graceful voice carrying in the warm breeze.

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