⋆˙⟡ Milkshakes & Car Dates,

baby!reader working a case???

ok let me lock in bc i don't think i can logically headcanon this and we all deserve to see it come to fruition.

it was a very special day for you. new car, new clothes (really, a mix of dean and sam's handmedowns from the depths of their packed bags, but they were new to you which made them special), and a new identity.

they were acting as fbi for this case, something ghostly and ghoul-like and a bridge that seemed to be the centric point of it. they had badges and everything, dean even let you play with his before he got (rightfully) anxious you'd manage to lose it and took it back.

you'd seen them in action before, but it was so much less involved than this. you'd be where the new car was; parked at the beginning of the bridge, doing absolutely nothing at all, staring at the police cars that got to see more action than you did.

not today, though! you were walking right up to the scene, past the stupid police cars and the men themselves in their cute little uniforms, looking all serious and grimace-y.

it was going swell, too, until you'd accidentally made eye contact with the most grimace-y one, and he seemed to think that the fact that you were grinning at a murder scene was a little off, because he holds out his arm to stop the three of you from approaching.

"hey, what the hell is this?" he asks, glancing firstly between the two men and then to you.

that didn't ever really bode well, when people treated you as an afterthought. dean opens his mouth, sam's already fishing for the lanyard beneath his shirt, but you speak instead. "we are investigating."

the man's lips purse in amusement. like you were joking, or amusing. there was nothing funny about this. this was your very first mission with the winchester gang; it was so incredibly important to you.

"we are investigating," the policeman says, straightening his spine as he does, like he feels the need to emphasize his status and talk down to a girl. "you guys are going to get behind the yellow tape." again, it doesn't bode well, but it was dean's turn to interrupt you.

dean holds his fbi badge out. today he was dean williams. could you read? no. but he'd schooled you on what role you were and what his said so you didn't accidentally do something stupid, like this, and throw their whole game out the window before it'd even started. "the higher-ups called us in."

sam holds his up, too, and now you feel a little left out, but this was a part of the game.

the policeman nods to you, his face still impassive and, in a way, amused. "who's this, then?"

dean and sam look at each other, and then back at the man. you are still smiling like this is the best day of your life. it actually was, too. you didn't have many sentient days to use as reference.

"intern."

he watches you for a long while, like he knows that you're seconds from cracking, and just when you're about to tell him about how fun and exciting this is, he shakes his head. "nuh uh. this isn't happening. we've got it handled, thanks."

dean's lips flatten, and sam's already stepping forward to have a personal one-on-one with the cop, like he alone could change his mind, but your eyes go to the left. the edge of the bridge, where police officers are gathered around, assumedly, where something happened.

"...don't know where their daughter is," one says, low enough that you could only hear because you were attached to dean's arm, and he was drifting in that direction for the very reason of overhearing, "hasn't answered a call or text, but phone pinged here a few hours ago."

the bridge was long, and distant from any sign of civilization. your head tilts to the side. dean complained when he had to walk for long periods of time, sam was decently tall so it didn't take him as much time, but he didn't seem to like it much, either. neither of them would have walked the length of this bridge to somehow vanish, no matter if they were chasing something.

and daughter. assumedly younger, if her parents realized so quickly that she'd not come home the night before. girls could be tall, young girls could be tall, but even then, it would not make sense for a girl at least somewhat young to walk the length of this bridge on her own, especially in the middle of the night, from however far the family lived.

your head raises in an epiphany. you don't know social cues. don't know how to tell when a conversation is private, and when it's open for comment, so you blurt out the words in your head. "she was driving."

dean's head snaps toward you, and the police officers all tense, including the one that sam had been sweet talking.

"what?" dean asks you, even as the officers start to walk toward you with blatant intent.

how were you supposed to know that presenting a theory as a complete and total stranger bystander would lead to suspicion? that's not something taught in two hour long drives by the winchester boys.

you shove past all of them, going to lean over the edge of the bridge. the river below was deep and winding, its depths emphasized in the darkness of the water, even from this height. impossible to see the car that you knew was down there.

"she was driving," you repeat, your hands running along the railing, feeling for grooves or cracks you knew had to be there. sure enough, there's a huge crack a couple of feet from you, one that isn't paralleled on the other side of the bridge. "very fast. it's a straight road and bridge, so maybe she felt safer to speed. or maybe she was scared, and something was chasing her, which could be why she went to the left and..."

you nod toward the river below again, past the cracked edge. "went over the edge."

the entire bridge is silent. even the birds have stopped cawing. finally, the police officer who'd looked at you like you were nothing but a little girl trespassing presses the comm on his chest, holding it to his mouth. "get a search and rescue on the ground."

dean huffs out a laugh, not in the same way that the officers had poked and prodded at you. you knew dean very well, and knew his tells more than you knew general ones. he was impressed.

"what's your name?" the first officer asks as the others begin to load up into the useless, idle cars, heading off of the bridge toward the murky riverbank.

you straighten this time, as tall as you can be, and as proud as you could, in worn and faded and too-big clothes. "baby."

a huff of amusement, more similar to dean's than the officer's rude teasing before. he pats sam's back, offer's dean a gruff nod, and then turns back toward you. "you boys are dismissed. you can stay."

―୨୧⋆˚ He's in love with a single mom :: James Kelly

I never thought someone like you would come into my life. Someone who wouldn't look at me and just see my past—someone who actually saw me for who I am now. But then you showed up.

You walked into the shop needing a tire change, and instead of just standing there awkwardly or giving me the usual polite bullshit, you actually talked to me. Just small talk at first, but damn if that didn’t turn into something more. Before I knew it, we were grabbing lunch at some rundown diner, and then one day, I finally grew a pair and asked you out. Didn't expect you to actually say yes, but hell, you did.

That first date—small Italian joint, nothing fancy—but sitting across from you, watching you talk, laugh… I was gone. Hooked. So, I kissed you. Right there, first date, no hesitation. And it wasn’t just a kiss—it was the kiss. The kind that sticks with you. And from that night on, it was you and me.

You were everything. A single mom busting your ass every damn day while your ex sat on his, doing the bare minimum. But you didn’t let that break you. And your little girl—God, she was something else. Sweet, tough, full of life. Took me a minute, but I grew to love her like my own.

You both became my world. The one thing I’d do anything for. You made me feel like more than just some guy with a record, and I made damn sure to show you what it really meant to be loved. To be protected. That little girl? She latched onto me quick. And I didn’t mind one bit. I’d go to war for the both of you without a second thought.

When I wasn’t working, I was with you. Always. Couldn’t stand being away longer than I had to. Nights like this, lying in bed, my arm wrapped tight around you, your body curled up against mine, breathing steady, peaceful. I just laid there, staring at you—at the way your hair spread out on the pillow, how damn beautiful you looked even in sleep.

Talk to this bot here

If one of the pictures I used for the aesthetic has already been used, I'm sorry! But enjoy the bot anyways!

more lee byung hun. Thats all. Thankz

lee byung-hun x actress!reader

─────────౨ৎ──────────

byunghun0712

liked by yourusername and others

byunghun0712 #오징어게임2 #SquidGame2

view comments

yoursername frontman? More like my man

liked by author

user23 @/yourusername actually he’s mine

yourusername @/user23 I beg to differ

randomuser hear me out

thefrontmanswife daddy. omg who said that

h0e4oldermen the older they are the more I like them

user15n @/h0e4oldermen preach

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712 and others

yourusername it’s a wrap!!

view comments

user12 watching this for my husband

leebyunghunswife @/user12 um i think you're mistaken. He’s mine.

user12 I would do anything to wake up next to that man

y/nandbyunghun omg they’re so cute together

liked by author

frontmansmask so excited to watch my man on screen😍

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712 and others

yourusername watch squid game season 2 now on Netflix!

view comments

byunghun0712 #오징어게임2 #SquidGame2 ❤️

user10 @/byunhun0712 why did he put those hashtags in the comments ?💀we know it’s squid game

byunghunlover @/user10 let the old man be 😭

hoooooyeony will watch!

liked by author

frontmanswife his hand omg.

7xi.a @/frontmanswife I literally licked my screen

yourusername

liked by byunghun0712 and others

yourusername he wants that cookie so bad

view comments

byunghun0712 cookie 🍪 ?

yourusername @/byunghun0712 don't worry about it

byunghunsabs she ships it

user456 so we're not delulu?

squidgamelover PLEASE

irrelevantusername its confirmed

yourusername 20m

─────────౨ৎ──────────

I think I might be obsessed with him

anyways thank you for the request

alec mcdowell is obsessed with everything about you.

he doesn't care if you don't think there's anything "special" for him to obsess over, and he does argue with you on it. how could you not see that you were the hot shit? he practically studied you, partly because he was a little bit out of experience with this whole societal bullshit, and partly because he loved all of your mannerisms and quirks.

you hold his hand by his fingers, just so you can hold on tightly to his much bigger hand when you walk. you nuzzle into his side when he puts his arm around you, like you wanted to be attached to him. you gave him a kiss every time he walked into a room you were in, like clockwork.

god forbid he leave a shirt at yours, because it was gone into your closet, now, lost forever from him. not that he minded; sometimes he did it because he knew you, that was the whole point. you like to ride him in the mornings when everything's slow and syrupy and let him loose at night, when it's dark out and the only witness to the way he defiles you is the stars, who've always kept his secrets, kept them all throughout his time in manticore.

he knows all these little details about you, catalogued in his brain in the important part of it, because alec would be damned if he forgot a single thing about you. sometimes the weight of what he'd gone through and everything he missed out on because of his untraditional and fucked up upbringing weighed heavy on his shoulders, and all he could do was turn to that little place in his mind where you lived and had a home in.

all alec had to do was imagine the way your smile lit up your face, or your eyes sparkled in the morning light, or your hand pressed to his chest when you leaned up to meet his mouth for a kiss, the way you'd giggle when he scoops you up so effortlessly, kissing the corners of your lips and your nose just to make you laugh like the sun itself lived within you, and everything was okay again.

so yeah. he was a tad obsessed. but there were more times than you ever realized that the little things you did were some of the only things keeping him from sinking.

notes! this is my first time with my new taglist YEEEHAWWW if u wanna be a dahlia nation member go here hehehe THANKKK U. idk what this is either I JUST RLY WANT ALEC MCDOWEEEELLLL RNNNNNN HE'S IN MY BRAIN

tags! @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @pieandflannel @viluren @h8aaz @yulianie @angelicjackles @beausling @tinas111 @briisbananass @cowboysandcigarettes @deanswidow

─── SO HIGH SCHOOL

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: As teenagers, you and Dean had a whirlwind romance before everything fell apart. Years later, you reunite—and it’s like high school all over again.

contents! mutual pining, teenage love, soft, flirting and touching, stupid in love dean, mdni 𖤐 18+

word count: 2.8k

𝒟ean masterlist !

Dean was the first and only real love you had.

Well, not exactly real. And maybe not exactly love.

He was the good part of your day. That person you knew would be there. The person who made school possible and tolerable.

Dean was always known for his charm, for his way with girls. For always having them. But the moment Dean joined your group of friends and you two became even remotely close, it was as if something, a connection, that you didn't know could exist, finally made itself present within you.

It wasn't something verbalized, something explicit. But as soon as you had your first kiss, there was no one else. No other girl in school had a chance with him. He wouldn't let you go, and much less took his eyes off you.

Everything felt so real. Even if it was just between the lines.

He was the best "relationship" you ever had. The best moments and the best treatment you had from a boy were with Dean Winchester.

And then just as it all began, suddenly he wasn't there anymore.

One night you two were together in the back seat of the car and the next morning he was gone from town, without any explanation.

And when you were seventeen, that was the last time you saw Dean.

You and Dean were sure you would never see each other again. You were teenagers, it was normal. People come and go from school all the time, it was common to meet people at school and then never see them again, never find out how they are.

This is what you and Dean thought things would be like. Just a memory that would fade in time. Never having to worry about looking each other in the eye again.

But when was anything ever simple in Dean Winchester's life?

A case never ended up being just a case.

The small town didn’t exactly scream "monster hotspot," but something was definitely off. Three people had vanished without a trace in the past two months, all last seen at the same place—a cozy little diner on Main Street that doubled as a bookstore. The place was old-school charming, the kind of spot with checkered floors, the scent of fresh coffee in the air, and a tiny bell over the door that jingled whenever a customer walked in. Nothing about it screamed "supernatural danger," but Dean had learned long ago that the worst things often hid in the most ordinary places.

“Alright, so we got three missing persons, no bodies, and a common location,” Sam said, flipping through his notes. “No signs of struggle, no EMF spikes, no sulfur. If it’s something supernatural, it’s keeping a low profile.”

Dean tapped his fingers against the Impala’s steering wheel, squinting at the diner across the street. “Or it’s just smart. Maybe a witch, maybe something we haven’t seen before.”

Sam sighed. “So, the usual—talk to employees, check out security footage, dig through lore?”

Dean smirked. “Aw, you're so smart, Sammy.”

With that, they climbed out of the car and crossed the street, the bell over the door announcing their arrival. The place was warm and inviting, filled with the quiet hum of conversation and the soft crackle of pages turning. Dean barely had time to take it all in before his gaze landed on someone behind the counter.

He recognized you instantly. There wouldn't be a day that he wouldn't.

You were busy jotting something down, focused on a customer, completely unaware of him—at first. Dean’s stomach tightened, his pulse kicking up. It had been years, but damn if you wasn’t still the same girl he remembered—just sharper, more grown-up, but still you. The girl who had once snuck out of your house to meet him, who had laughed against his lips under the Friday night stadium lights, who had looked at him like he was worth something—until he left without saying goodbye.

When you lifted your head, ready to serve the new customers, that’s when you saw him.

For a second, just a second, your eyes met, and he saw it: the flicker of recognition, the moment your heart probably dropped into your stomach the same way his had.

To this day, Dean always remembers the way you used to look at him. The sparkle in your eyes, the way they seemed to smile, emanating happiness and trust.

Just seeing you made him feel as if he were in high school again.

And now? Now you were standing behind the counter, your apron tied around your waist, a pen tucked behind your ear, looking at him like you weren’t sure whether to punch him or pretend he didn’t exist.

Dean opened his mouth, but for once in his life, words failed him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you finally muttered, eyes narrowing.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, Dean—?"

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Sammy.” Dean snapped out of it, forcing a grin. “Long time, no see, sweetheart.”

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Winchester.” Your voice was calm, even, but there was an edge to it, a quiet challenge. "Guess life’s full of surprises."

Dean exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… guess it is."

Sam, ever the unfortunate third wheel, glanced between them and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, we’re actually here about the disappearances. We’re—"

"FBI?" you cut in, lifting a brow. "Do you want me to believe that you two are FBI?"

Dean had to bite back a smirk. Of course you weren’t buying their act. You had always been sharp. Always saw right through him.

Sam hesitated. "We just have a few questions."

You sighed, tapping your fingers against the counter before jerking your chin toward an empty booth in the corner. "Fine. Take a seat. I’ll be over in a minute."

Dean watched as you turned on your heel, disappearing into the back. Only when you were out of sight did he let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face.

“Well,” Sam muttered, “that wasn’t awkward at all.”

Dean ignored him, eyes still locked on the door you had just walked through.

Yeah. This case just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

Only to get better, when you return, you decided to act as if he didn't exist. There was no sign of recognition on your face. No lingering shock, no flicker of emotion. Just cool, effortless professionalism, like you didn’t just have the wind knocked out of you moments ago.

A notebook is in your hand now, the pen twirling between your fingers as you slide into the seat across from them. Your eyes flick briefly to Sam—acknowledging him first, like Dean isn’t even there.

“So,” you say, tone even. “What exactly do you want to know? If this is about the disappearances, let me say I don’t know much. Just that they all came in here before they went missing. We gave their names to the cops already”

Dean leaned in, arms folding as he tilted his head slightly. “You always this helpful, sweetheart?”

The nickname made your eye twitch—barely.

You finally, finally glanced at him, and for a second, all he could see was the fire behind your gaze.

“I try my best, agent.” Your lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Anything else?”

Sam cleared his throat, glancing between the two of you, clearly picking up on the weird energy but too polite, more like too damn confused, to say anything. “Uh—right. But anything else you might’ve noticed? Strange behavior? Anyone bothering them?”

You exhaled through your nose. “Not that I remember.”

Feeling that with all this tension he wasn't going to get anywhere, Sam decided to stop there. “Alright, I think that’s all we need for now, then. If you remember anything else, let us know.”

With a nod, you began to rise from your seat, your body moving almost instinctively as you embraced the end of the conversation. “Sure thing."

As Dean watched you walk back to the counter, he couldn't believe you acted as if he wasn’t even there. However, if you thought that was the end of it, you were mistaken. Now that Dean had found you again, he wasn’t planning to just walk away. Not this time.

“Dude,” Sam muttered, voice low, snapping Dean out of his reverie. “What the hell was that?”

Dean exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “It’s complicated.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, no kidding. You gonna fill me in?”

Dean didn’t answer right away, just watched as you disappeared through the swinging door behind the counter.

He used to love watching you walk away. Now it just felt like he was losing you all over again.

After a beat, he pushed up from the booth. “I’ll be back.”

Sam sighed. “Dean—”

But Dean was already moving.

The back door of the diner led to a narrow hallway—one he knew you’d taken to get a breather. It was quieter back here, the hum of conversation fading into a dull murmur.

And sure enough, there you were.

Your hands braced on the edge of a small counter, eyes closed, breathing deep. He knew that look. Knew you were trying to steady yourself, get your walls up before he could knock them down.

Too late.

“Still not gonna look at me?”

Your shoulders tensed at his voice, but you didn’t turn. “What do you want, Dean?”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folding. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe a little acknowledgment? A hey, Dean, long time no see. Thought you were dead or in jail—”

“Wouldn’t have been surprised.”

Dean let out a sharp breath, a humorless smirk twitching at his lips. “Yeah, well. Didn’t end up that way.”

Silence.

You reached up, rubbing your temple, like talking to him was physically painful.

And hell, maybe it was.

After a beat, you finally turned to face him, arms crossing. Your eyes were sharp, guarded. But there was something else beneath it. Something raw.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

His chest ached at the way you said his name. Not like you used to—soft, familiar, like it meant something. Now it just sounded… tired.

“Job brought us here,” he said, keeping it simple.

You studied him, unconvinced. “And what? You thought, hey, let’s stop by and ruin her day while we’re at it?”

Dean huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, because that’s what I wanted. To see you look at me like I’m a damn ghost.”

You flinched. It was quick—so quick he almost missed it. But he didn’t.

And suddenly, the fight drained out of you. Your gaze dropped for the first time since this whole thing started, fingers tightening against your sleeves.

Dean’s throat worked.

He could push. Could try to get you to really talk, break down that wall you were building brick by brick.

But the way you looked right now? Like you were holding yourself together with nothing but sheer will—

He couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

Instead, he exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Look. I don’t know how long we’ll be in town. But I think we’re gonna be crossing paths whether you like it or not.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

Dean nodded, stepping back. “Just… don’t pretend I was never here, alright?”

And with that, he walked away.

He didn’t see the way your jaw clenched, the way your fingers curled into fists like you were stopping yourself from reaching out—

Didn’t hear the breath you let out, shaky and uneven, as soon as he was gone.

You knew this wasn’t the end—couldn’t be. Deep down, you knew that your story with Dean Winchester was far from over. And you knew that the moment he decided to see you again, he would pull you close once more, weaving his way into your heart until you could never imagine leaving his side again.

Weeks passed.

Looking back, you weren’t sure when exactly everything shifted.

Maybe it was after Dean came back to the diner and made you listen while he told you the truth—even though at the time you were sure that the man you once loved was completely insane.

But maybe it was when you started helping with the case, and somewhat believing him—not because you wanted to be a hunter, but because you wanted to be with him.

Or maybe it was just inevitable. Like gravity pulling you back into his orbit, like you never really had a choice in the first place.

All you knew was that, suddenly, it felt like before—like sneaking out past curfew, like warm summer air and stolen kisses in the Impala, like every love song that made your chest ache.

Only now, you weren’t kids anymore.

And Dean Winchester had never been the kind of guy to love halfway.

Which was how you ended up here.

Sitting in a diner, trying to pretend like Dean’s hand wasn’t sliding up your thigh under the table.

Across from you, Sam exhaled sharply through his nose. His patience was wearing thin.

“Dude,” he gritted out, glaring at Dean. “Can you stop touching her for five seconds?”

Dean, the picture of innocence, took a sip of his coffee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sammy.”

Sam’s expression was pained.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, but when Dean leaned in—his lips brushing your ear when he definitely didn’t need to be that close—you swatted at his chest.

“Dean.”

“What?” He smirked, not even pretending to be sorry. “Just admiring my girl.”

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like I hate this.

But it only got worse from there.

Dean was relentless.

His hands were always on you—an arm wrapped around your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, palm resting low on your back. He kissed your temple absentmindedly, whispered things that made you flush, smirked when he caught you looking at him like you still had a teenage crush on Dean Winchester.

Because you did.

You always had.

Later, at Bobby’s, the three of you sprawled in the living room—Dean practically wrapped around you on the couch, arms snug around your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

Sam was across the room, doing some research on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen as if sheer focus could block out the absolute nonsense happening beside him.

Dean, completely unbothered, nosed at your temple. “You cold?”

You weren’t.

At all.

But you hummed innocently, just to see what he’d do.

Dean, ever the problem, tugged you closer, his hands sliding beneath the hem of your sweater, tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

You shivered.

He felt it.

And he smirked.

“You’re shameless,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip to repress a smile.

Dean nipped at your jaw. “Yeah?” His lips brushed your ear, and God, you felt it everywhere.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, meant just for you. “Wanna know somethin’?”

You swallowed. “What?”

Dean shifted, his mouth so close his breath fanned warm against your skin. “First time I saw you? When we were stupid teenagers?” His hands traced higher, fingers barely grazing the edge of your bra. “Damn near forgot how to breathe.”

Your stomach plummeted.

“Dean.”

“Mm?”

Your heart hammered, but you fought to keep your voice steady. “Sam is right there.”

Dean pulled back just enough to glance at his brother—who was clearly tuning you out, laser-focused on not acknowledging this entire situation.

“If he has a problem, he can get up and leave.”

You swatted at his chest, biting back a laugh, but when you turned to face him, his expression shifted—no teasing, no smugness. Just him, looking at you like he was seeing you all over again.

His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up.

And just like that, you felt seventeen again.

God, what was it about him that made you feel like this?

That made you ache?

Dean’s lips parted, his gaze flickering down to your mouth.

Your breath caught.

He grinned—slow, lazy, devastating. “You gonna let me kiss you, sweetheart?”

You were sure your heartbeat was so loud.

Sam made a strangled noise in the background.

Dean groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. “Jesus Christ, Sammy, just leave the damn room.”

“I'm living here too,” Sam deadpanned, not directing his gaze towards you.

Dean huffed, shaking his head before turning back to you—his eyes darker now, filled with something deep and warm and completely unshakable.

You swallowed, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

This man knew what he wanted and, boy, he definitely got you.

But God, Dean Winchester was so much. And he had been from the start.

And you were so gone for him.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: I should have posted this a long time ago lol, but it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted and I was a little unsure but I hope you liked it <3

taglist: @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bettystonewell @rositaslabyrinth @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @freeluigihesbae (if you want to be removed or added let me know <3)

lee byung-hun

hi! A fan here! Can you please do a dean x reader where she's a substitute teacher at the school that makes the supernatural play, she turns out to be a hunter as well and she's on the same case as the Winchesters. Thank you so much!

✮⋆˙ the substitute,

summary. the real winchesters come to join the supernatural musical

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 554

notes. thank you so so much for requesting, lovely 😙

The first time Dean sees you, you’re standing at the front of a high school auditorium, wrangling a bunch of teenagers who clearly couldn’t care less about whatever speech you’re giving.

“…And remember, if you forget your lines, just keep going,” you say, clapping your hands. “The audience doesn’t know you messed up unless you tell them.”

Dean leans toward Sam, who’s sitting beside him in the back row. “I don’t get it. Why the hell are we wasting time at a school play?”

Sam sighs. “Because kids keep disappearing from the drama department. And—” He gestures toward the giant banner above the stage.

Supernatural: The Musical!

Dean groans. “Right. ‘Cause that nightmare needed to make a comeback.”

Before Sam can reply, you spot them. Your gaze flickers over the two men in the back, assessing. Then, with a quick word to the students, you step down from the stage and make a beeline for them.

Dean straightens, expecting some kind of lecture about visitor passes or whatever, but when you reach them, you cross your arms and smirk.

“You must be the Winchesters.”

Dean blinks. “Uh—sorry, what?”

You tilt your head. “You guys aren’t as sneaky as you think. And you definitely don’t look like parents of a student here.”

Sam shoots Dean a See? look.

Dean recovers fast, flashing you his signature grin. “Depends. If we say yes, do we get detention?”

You don’t take the bait. Instead, you gesture toward the exit. “Let’s take this outside.”

Dean exchanges a look with Sam before following you into the hallway.

The second the doors swing shut behind them, you turn on your heel. “So, which one of you is the genius who thought it was a good idea to work a case without checking if another hunter was already on it?”

Dean blinks. “Excuse me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’ve been here for three weeks investigating these disappearances, and then you two waltz in, stepping all over my toes.”

“You’re a hunter?” Sam asks, surprised.

“Yup.” You pull a small flask from your pocket, unscrewing the lid and taking a swig. “Been tracking this thing since the first kid vanished.”

Dean crosses his arms, studying you. He’s met plenty of hunters in his time, but none quite like you. You seem… comfortable here. Like you actually like the whole teacher thing.

“So, what’s the play?” he asks.

You grin. “Oh, that’s easy. I keep being a responsible adult, and you two try not to traumatize any more students while I figure out where this thing is hiding.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “And what exactly is this thing?”

You hesitate. “Still working on that part.”

Sam frowns. “The bodies—”

“Never found.” You nod. “No sulfur, no EMF, no signs of witchcraft. Just kids vanishing without a trace.”

Dean scratches his jaw, intrigued despite himself. “Alright, teach. You got room for two more on this field trip?”

You smirk. “That depends.”

“On what?”

Your eyes flicker to his. “How well you can follow instructions.”

Dean’s grin is slow and lazy. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how good I am at taking direction.”

Sam groans. “Oh my God.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, Winchester. You’re in.”

And just like that, the case—and whatever this is between you and Dean—just got a whole lot more interesting.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ( continues in the comments )

I’m gonna pack my things (and leave you behind)

summary: You’re five years old when Darth Vader kills your mom. Or — so you think — your parents.

pairing: han solo x skywalker!reader (eventually), platonic skywalker family x reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: so many feelings, reader's anakin and padme's daighter, also she's a itty bitty haunted by the force, anakin and padme die but it’s not really explored much (yet), mentions of childbirth, nightmares, mentions of anakin’s demise on mustafar, one swear word i think

author's note: I know y'all want an update on the heir and the wolf and that the star wars fandom is as dead as pope francis but PLEASE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE 🙏🙏🙏 this is for the 2 people that said they would read it lmao

divider from @saradika

You’re four years old when your mum comes back to your apartment on Coruscant with the happy news. 

She nears your room, where you're trying to screw back together a toy lightsaber that you somehow managed to dissect — tongue sticking out of your mouth, a concentrated pout prominent on your face. You’re really your father’s daughter, she ponders sometimes, thinking back to that blonde boy on the sand planet that managed to build a whole robot with scraps. The nurse droid, RO-N4, is dutifully watching your work, assuring that you don’t hurt yourself in the process and hinting at the pieces that should go back together; she raises her head when she sees that Padmé has returned. 

You jump up when you notice her, running to give her a big hug, almost making her lose her balance; but she’s used to it, and wastes no time in hoisting you on her hip. The robot stands up, ready to gently reprimand you, but your mother gingerly shoos her away with a smile. “Why don’t you go out with Threepio on a walk? I’ll stay here with her. We have something to discuss.” she winks at you, “Some serious girl talk to do, am I right?”

You giggle — that childish, innocent laugh that makes hours of relentless debates in the Senate worth going through — rubbing your cheek against hers. “Yeah! I have shoooo many things to tell you, mama!” 

The robots follow the senator’s suggestion, stumbling their way out of the door, and you soon go back to the area dedicated to your toys to show her your hard work. “Look, mama!” you’re basically jumping up and down in joy, holding up the pieces of the once toy lightsaber. “This is the cyber crystal–”

“Kyber crystal, sweetie.” 

“Ky-ber crystal. And then this is the one part of the handle with the switch–”

You could go on and ramble for hours, she thinks. She’d happily listen to all and any of your thoughts and wonders and never get tired from it. Soon enough, Padmé’s lying down on the soft sponge puzzle pieces of the playmat that serve to prevent any possible injury from falling over. We’ll need to change those soon, she thinks absentmindedly, she’s already grown out of the always-falling-over phase. 

She isn’t sure of how much time passes; at some point your ramblings slow and you scoot closer to her, sniggling in her lap. “Mama,” you mumble, yawning. “‘m so happy that you’re here. I missed you a lot today.”

Her heart breaks. A hand carding through your locks, she smiles sadly, “I know, sweetie, I’m sorry that mama has to work so much. But I promise it’s just so that once you grow up you will be able to live in a peaceful Galaxy, without ever worrying about learning how to fight like your papa.”

You perk up. “But I wanna be like papa when I grow up.”

She shakes her head, feigning her best scandalized expression. “How dare you? What am I, chopped liver?” she takes you in her arms and blows raspberries in your cheeks, making you squeal and thrash around. “Nooo! Don’t, mama, it’s ticklish!” 

“What about being a senator, mh?” she offers, not unkindly. “We can fight too, you know.” She puts on her best imitation of Palpatine and presses a matter of utmost importance, “Senator Skywalker, what do you think we should have for dinner as of today?” 

Your chuckle makes your little chest rumble against her belly. Your surname is not Skywalker — it is Amidala, often Naberrie when on Naboo, but never have your parents referred to you as that; they mostly leave it out when asked, avoiding the question but never stating either the truth or the cover-up. There’s still hope to change the Order, Anakin always says, that one day she can wear my surname without it causing a scandal. And Padmé believes him: and she believes that when the time comes, you’ll be rightly known as Senator Skywalker. 

Suddenly, you go quiet. “I want papa,” you whisper it like it’s forbidden — it kind of is, but you shouldn’t know that. Padmé’s heart breaks a little again. Anakin was sent out on a mission two weeks ago and hasn’t even been able to keep in touch ever since, making you miss him terribly. 

She laughs as softly as she can — she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. “No can do, sweetie. Papa isn’t due to be home in at least another three days, but I’m sure that once he’s here he’ll be elated to spend some time with you. Besides, you can’t eat papa for dinner.” she rests her cheek on her hand, patting the free space next to her. “Until he comes back, it’s just you and me. What would you like to do tomorrow? I have no Senate meetings.” 

You scoot closer, lying down on the spot she just patted, curling against her chest, “Can we see Ahsoka, then?” 

She chuckles a little quieter now. Her and Anakin still don't know how to explain to you that she left the Order a while ago and has no intention on returning to Coruscant any time soon. “Ahsoka’s away like papa, honey. But I’m sure that once she comes back, she’ll be just as happy as he will to spend time with you.” 

She smooths your hair back, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, pressing her hand up and down your back. She wonders how good of a sister you’ll be; and even if she knows you’ll be wonderful with the new baby, she still can’t bring herself to say it out loud. “How about I make some shaak meat and then get you prepared for a good bubble bath?”

You look up at her, pouting, “But I’m big now! Do I really have to bathe?” 

Padmé bursts out laughing. “You’ll have to clean yourself your whole life, sweetheart, to hopefully not smell like a bantha.”

You huff, glaring at her. “Papa barely even showers.”

“Papa stinks. He was raised on a planet with barely any water and still considers showers optional. Do you ever hear me tell him how I love his perfume? No, that’s because he doesn’t use any. You hear me sending him to sleep on the couch because he smells terribly, though.” 

You end up eating your dinner — vegetables included — without a fuss and going to take your bath like a champ. Somewhere along that timespan both the nurse droid and C-3PO came back home to be of help in cleaning the kitchen as Padmé prepares you for bed, lying down next to you and reading to you one of the stories in the hologram that Anakin bought on one of his last missions. 

MId-story, she notices you get eerily silent. She carefully turns her head, trying to understand if you’re already sleeping, only to find you more awake than her, eyes open wide. “Is… is everything alright, sweetie?” she asks, a bit bewildered– just a moment ago, you looked like you were about to fall asleep, and now you look like you’re ready to fight everything that could be thrown at you. 

“Mama,” you whisper it like it’s a secret, “I just remembered. How are they?”

She blinks, confused. “Who?”

“The twins,” you say, “Luke and Leia.” you pat her belly as if to state the obvious. 

She looks at you, horrified — she found out she was pregnant today, and no droid or doctor mentioned twins. “I– sweetheart, what?”

You lean your head, confused. “I saw them yesterday in a dream. They asked me about you.” 

Her heart almost stops. She laughs nervously, looking at you with wide eyes, expecting you to say something about the weird and absolutely not real dream that you had, but instead you just stare at her, completely serious. “What… what do you mean?” 

You frown. “If you don’t know, then I can’t help you. Nighty night.” you tuck yourself under the covers and curl above her chest once again, sighing happily. 

Padmé’s heart feels heavy. It’s happening again– you murmur something about having had a dream, say something even more alarming, then completely ignore what you just said and act like nothing happened. It’s getting worrying — Padmé managed to get you out of the Jedi program last year just because of her status as senator, but she is sure that this year, she won’t be as lucky. The quantity of midi-chlorians in your blood can’t be hid, unfortunately, and in probably less than a year she will be forced to give you up to the Temple. 

Anakin’s sure you will make a great Jedi, but your mother’s worried — and how can she not be? Her husband’s more away than he is at home, and with the war going on, it’s already a miracle he manages to visit Coruscant. The fact that you seem to possess your father’s horrifying ability to dream about possible futures doesn’t ease her worries. 

“I’m just worried about her–” 

“But why? She’s young, she’ll be trained–”

“She will, but I don’t want her to be haunted by the thoughts of possible futures and whatnot.”

It’s late. You’ve already gone to bed, shushed by Anakin’s stories and anecdotes from his latest mission, and even if this should be a carefree and happy moment because her husband has managed to come back home unscathed again– your mother just can’t get something out of her head. 

Anakin huffs and puts his hands on his waist, looking at Padmé like she’s crazy — there it is, where you got your attitude from. “I can always call one of the Temple guards and tell them that there’s a Force-sensitive kid here. They can train her until I can take her as Padawan; it’ll take, what? Six, seven years? Hopefully I’ll be done with the war by that time and will be able to focus on her as my padawan.” 

His wife crosses her arms, glaring at him, “I don’t want her as your padawan,” she grits out, “I want her safe, here, where we can have a decent relationship and she won’t be stripped away from my arms.”

He leans his head and raises an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I can’t make her dreams go away. I don’t even know how to make my nightmares go. But at the Temple, they can teach her how to control them, how to use them for her own good– for the Order’s and the Republic’s own good–”

“You say that just because you wouldn’t have any problems in seeing her,” she sniffs, “you’ll be a welcome, familiar presence in the Temple — but it is known that they don’t let anyone outside of the Jedi enter.” 

His shoulders drop, and he starts shaking his head. “Padmé…”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me that we have to give her up to the Temple, because I don’t want to and I won’t–”

“But we’ll have to, Padmé, they’ll teach her everything she’ll ever need and–” 

She bursts out crying. It might be the pregnancy, or the fact that she still hasn’t told him about it and it’s eating her alive, but she’s much more emotional than usual. “I don’t want them to take her away from me!” 

Anakin’s eyes soften, his posture breaks, “Oh, dear,” he mutters, pulling her in his arms and letting her cry out in his chest. “It’ll be alright,” he murmurs, lips pressed to her head, “we’ll find a solution for everything.” He still doesn’t know when or how, but he’ll try with everything he has to solve this situation to the best of his ability.

He had honestly thought Padmé was exaggerating when she said that you were having visions, probably thinking it was just baby babbling or something, but he is proven wrong that same night, when he is abruptly woken up by the sound of the door of their bedroom opening. 

“Papa?” you call out from the doorstep, voice sleepy. 

He manages to get himself out of bed — when he’s home, night duty is always on him, as Padmé already deals with it enough while he’s away — and, yawning, he walks off to you and kneels down to your level, sending a glance to your bantha plushie safely tucked under your elbow. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Blank stare on your part, you look at him like a war veteran would. “You were being burned, papa.” 

He blinks and counts to five before accepting that it’s way too late in the night — or early in the morning, he has no idea — to deal with this type of shit. “Okay, listen– how about we go catch some fresh air outside, hm?” 

You let him pick you up without any protests, curling up in his arms as you whimper quietly. He drags his feet along the pavement of the apartment, sliding open the door to the terrace that overlooks the whole city; it’s like it never sleeps, always someone going around and about with their speeders, lights often left on in the apartments below. The night air sends a chill down his spine and he instinctively holds you tighter in hopes to shield you from the cold. 

“Mum told me about these dreams you’ve been having,” he starts slowly. 

You hum, pressing closer to him, the plushie squashed between you two. Your eyes look tired, almost older than you actually are, and his heart squeezes at the sight. “Papa, do you know Darth Vader?”

His heart skips a beat. He knows no Vader, surely not a Sith named like that, but the fact that you dreamed about it almost makes his knees buckle. He mentally promises himself to make some digging in the archives and reports for any Vaders that might be hiding out there. “I don’t, sweetheart. Do you?” 

Your brows furrow, your little hand patting the skin above his heart. “I don’t think I do.” 

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Well, what does he do in your dreams?”

Your frown deepens. “I never see him. But Obi-Wan’s afraid of him– or, or angry at him, I’m not sure. Maybe both.” 

His frown mirrors yours. You’ve never met Obi-Wan aside from a time or two when he was assigned as bodyguard to your mother, but that was years ago; you shouldn’t be able to remember him. “How do you know who Obi-Wan is, sweetheart?” 

You stare at him like he’s stupid. “Isn’t he a friend?”

“I mean, I guess he is, but you’ve never actually met him, have you?”

“Then I think I will.” you cuddle back on his shoulder like nothing happened. 

Yeah, we gotta send this one to the Temple, he bitterly thinks. The thought of your mother alone in this apartment after years of having you around makes him sad, but there’s no one else apart from the masters there that could help you — he would try to, if the war wasn’t stripping him of all of his free time. 

Anakin has no time to properly train you. As of now, he could manage to give you chopped notions and barely any principles; in the Temple, all the Jedi solely focus on the younglings’ training, a luxury he can’t afford right now. 

She’s still so young, Padmé’s voice rings in his head, I don’t want her to forget about me. 

Six years old might be already too old for a youngling, Anakin ponders, but five years old would be perfect. They still accept kids that age. 

Another birthday for Padmé, he decides, another birthday and then off to the Temple she goes. 

Except, he doesn’t know there’s no time for another birthday. Not for Padmé, anyways. Nor for him, too, some could argue. 

“Papa,” you mumble, “could you sing me that lullaby?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Aren’t you getting a little too old for that?” He teases, with no actual intent in ever stopping to sing Ghost Star to you. You could be forty and him on his deathbed and, if you asked, he’d still sing it for you. “Ghost star, wonder where you are; Ghost star, are you very far? All night long, I will sing your song, if you watch over me…”

You do end up properly meeting Obi-Wan. That is, unfortunately, after — for what you know — both your parents die. 

The air in the spacecraft is eerily still, as even C-3PO is stunned to silence. The tears on your cheeks have long since dried, and you keep fidgeting with a small, faintly glowing cube in your hands  — the only thing you managed to take with you when your mother loaded you into the spaceship directed to Mustafar. She’s — was, was, was — able to open it, but you still have no idea how to do it; your father promised he would have taught you to, but… well. He now never will. 

The cries from the med bay stopped a while ago. And while you’re still so young, you know that the silence means nothing good. You might not be a master of the Force, or know enough about it to understand fully what it means, but you’ve felt it — your mother’s presence slipping away in favor of two smaller ones. 

Finally, after a time that seems never-ending, Obi-Wan emerges from the door connecting the hallway with the infirmary, his expression full of sorrow. He looks surprised by your calmness, almost as if he had expected you to have gone crazy by now. “Hi,” he breathes lowly, tired and remorseful. How do you tell a kid her mother’s dead when just a few hours ago you had to break the same type of news about her father? 

After he understands that you’re not going to reply, he gets closer and kneels in front of you, taking note of the cube you’re holding in your hands — a holocron. Does she know how to open it, yet? “Hey, kid,” he tries as softly as he can, “I…”

“Mama’s gone, isn’t she?” You interrupt him. Obi-Wan almost stumbles; the look in your eyes is scaringly similar to the one Anakin had sometimes, strangely old for your age. “I felt her slipping away like papa did.” 

His lips are pressed into a thin line as he puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’m really sorry,” he says it even though he knows it won’t change anything. “We tried everything, but even the medical droid had no idea what to do.”

“Oh,” C-3PO mumbles as R2-D2 beeps sadly. “This– this is horrendous news.” 

You nod absentmindedly, like you’d seen it coming. “Are Luke and Leia okay?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Who?”

“The twins. Are they okay?”

As even Padmé looked surprised by the fact she was having twins, he wonders how in the world you knew and gave them names. Your mother left no names behind, and he had thought about just naming them after your parents, but if you already had names picked out… then it’s not his place to name your siblings, is it?

“They are.” C-3PO sighs in relief as R2-D2 lets out a happier beep. “Would you like to see them?” 

You nod timidly, almost stumbling as you stand up from the chair you sat in and taking Obi-Wan’s hand when he offers it to you. You’re still gripping on the holocron like a lifeline, its dim glow faltering every now and then. “Do you know what that is?” He asks, pointing at it as the door to the infirmary opens. 

You glance at it, unsure. “Dunno. Mama always played the hologram inside when I missed papa, but I tried opening it and it didn’t work.”

If Padmé managed to open it, then Anakin must’ve programmed the holocron so that the Force frequency needed to open it was small enough that she could play it; even if you were a prodigy like your father, though, it would be impossible for you to open it without directions or a minimal training. 

The nurse-droid your mother brought with her is feeding some milk to one of the twins when you enter — Obi-Wan guesses she might have had it with her the whole time, because he doesn’t remember this ship having such a thing as baby formula in its stocks. 

RO-N4 places the infant back in the cot with the other twin as soon as they burp, and since you’re still too short to properly look at them Obi-Wan has to take you in his arms for you to have a good peek. 

“This is Leia,” he murmurs softly, pointing at the baby with small tufts of brown hair. “She was born first.” He then points to the smaller, uglier and balder twin, “And this is Luke; he was born right after.”

You coo, pushing your index finger against Luke’s cheek. “They’re so ugly,” you state, not exactly with the intent of insulting them– just saying what’s in your mind. 

Obi-Wan chuckles fondly. “Well, I’m sure you were at least as ugly as them when you were this little. Pretty much everyone is.”

You turn to him, holocron still in hand, hesitantly nudging it to him. “Mister Obi,” you say, calling him with the nickname that later on will stick to him for pretty much your entire time spent with him, “do you know how to play this?”

He nods, taking the holocron in his hand and changing his hold on you so that he can use his other hand while still keeping you upright, “This is a holocron. It’s used by Force users to store information and files, and it opens if infused with the Force. Let’s see…” 

He concentrates on the cube, focusing a small amount of Force within it, then delicately twists the corners as it starts to glow steadier. Just as he expected — the smallest amount of Force that even Padmé could’ve been able to conjure up. The holocron starts to float, projecting a hologram in the dim-lit room. 

It starts with Anakin, clearly just knighted as a proper Jedi: he’s still a bit scrawny, his hair’s yet to grow after the braid and the small ponytail for padawans had been cut. He looks a bit embarrassed to be in front of the camera as a small baby’s cries echo in the recording. “Do I really have to do this?” He mutters. 

A laugh comes from the side, and the baby’s cries get louder — maybe closer to the camera. “Of course you do!” It’s Padmé’s voice, amused but clearly tired, stabbing directly into Obi-Wan's heart. That poor, poor girl… “It’s the only way she’ll stop crying, and since you’re mostly off-world, she’s mostly crying. This will solve a lot of my problems — even the droids are starting to go mad.” 

A pair of arms and a swoosh of a dress appear to the side, and suddenly a crying infant is trusted into Anakin’s hands. It’s you, his master realises, crying as if the world’s about to end, face all red and pudgy, definitely a bit less ugly than your siblings. Your father’s eyes soften in a way that makes Obi-Wan’s heart ultimately crumble. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, cooing and humming as he presses kisses all over your cheeks. He winces as your face contorts even more, “Now, c’mon, don’t look at me like that,”

“Please, Master, just sing the song!” It’s C-3PO’s voice in the distance, full of despair and anguish. “Another sob and the metal holding me together might just turn to rust!” R2-D2’s beeping seems to be of the same idea as him. 

Anakin huffs, glaring down at you with no real hostility. “You’re one hell of a spoiled baby, you know that?” 

Your cries continue nonetheless. He glares at the camera. “Padmé, I love you, but if anyone else ever sees this, I’m divorcing you,” 

“You would never,” your mother’s knowing voice is a mere rumble in the distance as Anakin settles to hold you tight to his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead before starting to sing. 

“Ghost star, wonder where you are; Ghost star, are you very far? All night long, I will sing your song, if you watch over me. Ghost star, hiding in the night, all your friends are all so bright… when the sky is clear, I can sense you near, looking down on me. Ghost star, silent in the sky, now I start to wonder why. Show me your light; I've waited all night. Ghost star, won't you sing with me?” 

He sings the lullaby multiple times until you’re completely knocked out, dismissing Padmé when she offers to take you back to your room, preferring to keep you close for another while. His stare as he looks at you is so tender that Obi-Wan can’t believe he just had to leave him to die.

Soon enough the recording restarts, the same banter and song again, but he lets it play. Every word is a guilt trip, every laugh a stab in his chest, and the image of Anakin with a baby happily sleeping against his chest might just be the end of him. 

By the time he finally shuts the holocron off both you and the twins are passed out; he tries to convince himself that the hole in his chest isn’t gnawing away at the last bit standing of his sanity. He looks at you, carding a hand through your hair, of the same tenderness as your father but with the same curl of your mother's, and decides here and there to never tell you about what really happened on Mustafar. Not that he really had the intention to do, as of now, but… you don’t deserve to know about Vader. Obi-Wan won’t let you live with the knowledge that your father killed both himself and your mother, no. 

And so, the lie about Darth Vader killing both Senator Amidala and her loyal guard, Anakin Skywalker, who lost his life fighting for hers, is born. 

god i love angst

The Other Woman.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Stripper!Reader

tw: Cheating! (not on reader) Drug & Alchohol use! Descriptions of smut! Angst!

“The other woman has time to manicure her nails

The other woman is perfect where her rival fails.”

Her arms feel like the sun on a breezy day. Shining on him and encasing him in warmth while the cool winds prickle at his skin. Her scent like a pheromone that was designed solely to attract him. Her skin like expensive silk under his fingertips, delicate and smooth. Her lips felt like satin, brushing and sponging against his skin, lips and body in a way that was entirely addictive. She was entirely addictive; she was his haven. The luxury between her legs only he had access too. Her arousal was a flavor that could never be matched and that he yearned for when she wasn’t on his tongue. Slipping inside her felt like he had a taste of heaven, something he was entirely dedicated to worshipping. She was a deity he would willingly sacrifice his soul and life to.

“Baby… she keeps calling you.” Whispered out that voice that was like a sweet symphony to his ears and calmed down the ocean of complex emotions that dwelled in his heart. Rafe groaned into disappointment at his moment of peace being interrupted once more, burying his face deeper in the softness of her tummy while her manicured nails grazed his scalp. Feeling the soft pricks of hair under her smooth finger tips, touching him with a delicacy only she knew how to have. He sighed once more before bringing his head up and reaching a hand over to the incessant buzzing next to them in her satin sheets. Watching as Sofia’s contact showed for the 5th time that hour.

Rafe can’t exactly blame her, he promised her a nice dinner. Yet, he got to caught up in the girl who captivated his entire being and the one whose inner legs he finds solace in every night or day he can. Just seeing her glimmering smile or seductive gaze makes his knees buckle. He’s entirely fascinated by her, like a diamond in the rough of people who inhabit the island they live on. She’s unlike anything or anyone he’s ever known, the way she maneuvers her body on stage and glimmers under the club lights. The way he was entirely bewitched by the siren she was. He won’t ever forget the night Topper and Kelce dragged him out to a club he had no interest in being at. Small, yet no conviction in his claims of, ‘I have a girl, bro.’ He’s so entirely grateful he went. Topper’s convincing of, ‘what she doesn’t know won’t kill her, man. Trust there’s this girl there that will drive you insane. She’s got me and Kelce hooked.’ To which Rafe gave a small eye roll and scoff of, ‘any girl with her tits out has your attention.’ Topper only laughed and Kelce along with him before biting back a, ‘but hers are premium.’ As they all toppled into his truck.

That night was fate, and he knew that any woman he met or has yet to meet will pale in comparison to the goddess who’s enthralled his being and keeps him stuck in a perpetual state of desire for her and her alone. The moment he saw her glide across stage, in nothing but glimmering lingerie and wild hair. Her eyes packed on with glitter and pretty lips glossed so enticingly. Her body the kind of thing men carve into stone to keep as a recollection for life. The way she slithered across stage with her eyes set on him and only him. Singling him out while the cheers and hoots of his friends, other club goers and patrons faded into the background. Both of them fascinated with one another. The way she slung herself across his lap with her freed tits pressing into him and her intoxicating perfume swirling around him like an aphrodisiac.

“The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume.”

He paid for a lap dance that very night and let her help him escape in the private room under glaring, neon pink lights. Running his hands over every inch of her beautiful body as scraped her long nails against his skin and moved sensually across him. That night sealed their fate, and it didn’t take much convincing to let him take her home to Tannyhill. Making out in the back of Topper’s truck while him and Kelce smirked as they watched through the rear-view mirror. Praising their friend and promising to seal their lips when they were dropped off. That night y/n and Rafe brought their bodies and souls together, all night long. Sweat sticking them together as her inner thighs dripped with their mixed arousal. Their lips not leaving any inch of each other‘s bodies undiscovered. He marked her that night with his possession and allowed her to rake her nails down his strong back, calculating in his mind how he’d hide it from Sofia.

After that night any thought of another woman aside from the one under him was gone, his girlfriend included. The unsaid energy bringing their souls together as if they were lovers destined to meet. He licked and snorted lines off her body as he rubbed the powdery substance against her gums. Pouring champagne on her as he licked it up and let it soak his sheets right next to her arousal. She was like an added substance he was quickly growing addicted to and he knew this was an addiction that would never end. He took her apart over the balcony under the stars of the night sky as she whined and whimpered into the warm air. He was king and she would be queen.

-

Now months later their affair is still going strong, he more often than not finds himself entangled in her at her penthouse he put her into. Vowing to move her into his mansion next. He’s yet find a way to end things with Sofia, he knows y/n is the one he wants to settle with. He wants everything with her. Aside from the passion that connects them physically it’s the understanding of their minds that really links them together. She understands him, she loves him in all his dark glory. Allowing him to be himself without feeling the need to try and fix him. Her understands her, in all her shady grandeur. They’re just as fucked up as one another; she’s not ashamed of who he truly is. She doesn’t keep him from changing either, she grows alongside him as the learn to love one another beautifully.

Rafe tells her about his dad, the pogues, even the yearning he has to reconcile with his sister. He cries to her and lets her hold him as he sobs into her naked chest, feeling her kiss his tears away. She always whispers soft, ‘let it out, baby. it’s okay, I’m here.’ Consoling him with gentle caresses and kisses. He feels guilt, guilt for keeping her in the shadows of secrecy. Yet, he’s not ready for the universe they’ve built for themselves to come to an end. He doesn’t want to share her with the world, he’s selfish and wants her all to himself. He keeps her locked away in the luxurious penthouse he’s granted her and has even taken her out of the club by providing for her. She’s his hidden gem, he knows it hurts her. It hurts him too.

He finds it difficult to end things with Sofia. Her softness and kindness to him never forgotten. He’s still fond of the girl who was there for him when no one else was. Who listened to him cry and his grieving words as he spread his father’s ashes into the ocean. Sofia is familiar, she’s routine. She’s comfortable in a different way and he doesn’t want to let it go. He knows he deeply adores y/n, he loves her with every fiber of his being. But he loved Sofia first, she’ll always have a place in his heart for the kindness and love she granted him when he needed it most. That’s why he leaves y/n every morning to go back to her. He knows it’s cowardly; he knows it’s completely selfish. He can see the tears falling from her closed eyes as she pretends to be asleep while he softly walks around the bedroom as to not wake her when he leaves in the mornings. He always knows she’s awake. Especially when he presses a kiss to her forehead as he softly strokes her hair. Promising with a whisper to her skin that he’ll be back and that he loves her. He’ll always go back for her, he’ll always go back to her.

When he greets Sofia, she looks at him with those pretty doe eyes that are so different yet just as beautiful as the ones he’s grown accustomed to love. Natural lashes in comparison to y/n’s pretty extensions he pays for. They’re both so beautiful, yet so different to him. Especially in the way they hold his gaze. When he kisses Sofia it’s not quite as intoxicating, yet he likes it nonetheless. Her scent not as addictive but he still finds himself burying his nose into her neck as he hugs her. While Sofia is all earthly beauty, y/n is pure glamour. Sofia is soft, meek, not a touch of makeup kisses her pretty face. Whereas y/n is more resilient, durable and she has to be in the line of work she succumbed to. With the way of life she lived. Her gorgeous face accentuated by flawlessly done makeup. He doesn’t think she needs it, but he loves it nonetheless. Sofia’s nails are always blunt and rarely polished, y/n’s nails always have a nicely perfected manicure. Sofia loves sandals and sneakers, y/n loves wedges and heels. Sofia’s lips always moisturized with chapstick, y/n lips always glimmering with gloss. He likes how different they are from their personalities to their styles. They’re like day and night. Polar opposites so beautiful in their own right. He’s a selfish, selfish man. He knows one day he’ll have to choose, but for now….he holds both hearts in the palm of his hand. Only one of them is feeling the stabbing pain of abandonment and pining the other has the pleasure of not being subjected too. He knows it, yet he can’t help it. Sofia is pure routine, y/n is his passion. Being with her is like being inebriated. Like an adrenaline rush he always craves, that he loves. He lives for it.

“And when her old man comes to call

He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen.

‘Cause to be by her side

It's such a change from old routine.”

Y/n waits, she always will. She knows he’ll be back. She’s begged him to stay, but he never does. Just a quick promise of his awaited return as his fully clothed body steps to her naked one which is kneeling in the satin sheets. A representation of the vulnerability she’s subjected herself to just for his approval. Her long lashes clumped with tears as her chin wobbles. He thinks she looks so beautiful like this; the dark part of him liking the way she longs and whines for him. He always gives her chin a quick pinch as he pulls away from their kiss and steps out of the bedroom. Y/n always falls back into the sheets as the tears that watered in her lash line fall down her smooth cheeks. Listening to his footsteps farthering and ultimately the front door closing shut as he leaves her once more.

She knows why, she knows what she is. A secret, a mistress. His side girl. She can’t help it; the desire she has for him overcoming her self worth and respect for his girlfriend. She feels the grief that fills her body every time he leaves, only to disappear every time he returns. She can’t bring herself to end it. Can’t bring herself to leave him alone, or give him an ultimatum that it’s me or her. She knows it’s pathetic, yet she can’t bring that thought to overcome the undying love she’s developed for him. So she does as he wants, she waits for him. She always will. When her body lays back down, and she’s sure he’s gone. Only then is when she lets the overwhelming hurt leave her body in sobs of pure anguish as she lets sleep overtake her body. Succumbing to the fatigue of a heart that is continually broken.

“The other woman will always cry herself to sleep

The other woman will never have his love to keep.”

-

a/n: was feeling angsty tn ugh. i hope you all enjoy, pls let me know your thoughts! muah!

𝖜𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉

Summary: when a blizzard hits and traps you and your wife into your new house, you both find the perfect opportunity to christen the whole house. Word Count: 6.5k Warnings/Tags: domestic fluff, dirty talk, thigh riding, shower sex, oral sex, fingering, praise, kitchen sex, grinding, strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, choking, table sex, soft smut, sofa sex, dom rhea/sub reader

the shrill chime of a phone alarm cruelly tore you out of your peaceful slumber, a groan indicating your annoyance leaving your lips instantly, head burying further against your makeshift pillow, the comfortable surface beneath you shaking in a small chuckle. rhea couldn’t stop the inevitable smile that took over her face at your reaction, still amused at how much you hated waking up early, your wife the polar opposite. her arm swiftly reached on the nightstand to turn the noise off, a muffled noise of appreciation leaving you as your head nuzzles further against her chest, the dark haired girl's fingers moving to your hair, softly scratching your scalp.

“i need to get up now,” she murmurs ever so softly, apologetic in her tone as your arms defiantly wrap around her middle, pulling her impossibly closer, legs tangled under the sheets as you refuse to move.

“five more minutes,” you mumble against her, her body shaking momentarily as she huffs out a small laugh, lips pressing against your hair, smile stretching wider as you melt against her body, the embrace lulling you back to your desired sleep.

"i can’t my love,” she whispers, a small noise leaving you. “not all of us have the day off,” she teases, pointing out how she still had to go to work today.

the two of you had finally moved into a larger house outside of the city, wanting to have a proper place of your own as opposed to the apartments in new york or living with damian, meaning you had to find the time to unpack properly and decorate the house in not only your belongings but christmas decorations. you had taken the next couple days off to kick start your new journey in this house, your body begging you to take advantage of the extra sleep you could have before being productive.

“plus, i don’t want h to be annoyed with me right before christmas,” she jokes, knowing how the man she was having a meeting with soon liked to secretly get her a gift, always playing it off coolly, “we both know I’m his favourite.”

“there’s no need to brag,” you mutter, making her laugh softly once again, her body cruelly parting from yours, your eyes gradually fluttering open to squint at her in annoyance, a pout evident on your face. her lips press to yours softly, making the expression switch to a small, shy smile, her eyes gazing at you adoringly as your arms move to grab her pillow, bringing it towards your body to cuddle instead. “now go shower, we don’t want h's favourite to be late,” you grumble playfully, face half smushed against the soft fabric, her angelic laugh filling the room as she listens to your words, knowing she needed to start getting ready.

while rhea was in the shower, your body started to dip in and out of consciousness, gradually falling back asleep, your duvet tucked tightly around you to keep you warm, face pressing further against her pillow, nose picking up her faint scent on it. you smiled at the smell of her, your ears faintly picking up the sound of the shower stopping, mind barely processing it as you continue to fall back into the peaceful slumber you were torn out of.

your eyes only fluttered open when you felt the bed dip next to you, rhea now fully dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a black tank top with 'motionless in white' in bold writing, your gaze flickering over her outfit briefly before meeting her softening sky blue eyes, the various shades overflowing with love and care.

“i’m going now,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your lips pulling up into a drowsy smile. “i’ll see you late babe,” she brushes a few strands of your hair out of your face, your eyes meeting hers, conveying your tiredness but also love.

“have fun,” you mumble playfully, knowing how boring these meetings could be, “make sure you wrap up warm,” you remind her, the dark haired girl adamant she couldn’t feel the cold, the way her cheeks and nose redden proving her wrong.

“i will, i will,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender as you reprimand her choice of clothes in cold conditions often, her lips meeting yours one last time before she starts to head out.

rhea leaves you all wrapped up, her eyes lingering on your form as she savours the domesticity of the moment, body soon moving to grab the remainder of her things, grabbing a thick hoodie as you told her to.

soon enough, she’s at the front door, keys jingling in the lock as she twists it, unlocking the door and gently opening it. her eyes widened in surprise, confusion and shock at the mountain of snow piled in front of the door, almost as high as her waist, completely blocking her exit and the entire driveway, no way for her to leave. she curses under her breath, knowing there was absolutely no quick solution for her to get out, the dark haired girl deciding that she was just going to have to let h know the meeting would have to happen without her, explaining her situation.

whilst rhea was sorting out her predicament, you had nodded off once again, quiet snores escaping you as your body stretched across the bed, relishing in the warmth and comfortable surface as much as possible. however, once again you were ripped away from your sleep, a grumble escaping you as you flutter your eyes open at the noise, rhea's figure barely visible in the corner of your eye. you tilted your head to get a better look at her, confusion on your face as you started to watch her remove her shirt, her head tilting as she senses you wake up, smile playing on her lips.

“did i sleep all day?” you question, tone bewildered and full of disbelief.

“you’ve been asleep since i left?” rhea teases, purposely faking an expression of shock, trying her best to hide her smile at the way you sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes to try and wake up, seemingly confused as to where you were, what time it was, and what had happened.

“what-” your eyes meet hers, noticing the hint of mischief in them, your eyes then instantly going to the small clock on your nightstand, reading the time and groaning. you flop back onto the bed dramatically earning a soft laugh from the dark haired girl, her now in an old sleep shirt and comfortable joggers, climbing onto the bed. “you’re so mean,” you grumble, not too pleased with her little joke, your hands wrapping around her pillow and whacking her with it will the little strength you could be bothered mustering, her fingers wrapping around it and pulling it out of your grasp.

“i really am,” she chuckles out, “i’m just so cruel,” her tone dropping an octave as her body moves to straddle yours, fingers caressing your waist, cold hands meeting your warm skin as your shirt hitched up. “what can I do to make it up to my dear wife?” her voice playful and teasing, your eyes opening to meet her amused blue, an inevitable smile pulling at your lips, hands reaching out for her body.

“help her decorate the house,” you say, eyes flickering between her teeth biting down on her lip gently, fingers sliding under her shirt, drawing idle circles against her soft, creamy skin.

“is that all?” she murmurs, leaning down so that her lips are ghosting yours, teasingly brushing against yours in an intoxicating manner, heat instantly consuming your body. you can feel a couple strands of her hair brush your cheeks, her eyes darkening as she tilts her head, barely putting any pressure on your lips as you gaze into her blue with a lustful look.

“hmm let me think,” you murmur, pretending to ponder the thought, arms wrapping loosely around her neck, pulling her body closer to yours, her entire weight pressing into you. “kiss me,” you whisper, her obliging and connecting your lips intimately, a sensual sigh leaving both of you. the kiss was loaded with a tenderness and affection that made your heart melt in your chest, the slow pace allowing you both to savour every little feeling and sensation you caused each other. your heart drummed wildly in your chest, wet mouths moving together languidly and her teeth scraping over your lips while her hands are firm with their touch at your waist, one moving to cup your cheek to deepen the kiss.

eventually, you pull away from each other, her body moving to lay next to you as you smile against her, lips still pressing against each other as you couldn’t resist her, your mind soon catching up with the fact that she was still home, the meeting with h entering your mind.

“you’re not skiving the meeting are you?” you mumble into a kiss, her laughing softly against you as you raise a brow at her, head resting against the pillow as you search her eyes for an answer. the blue softens at your words, fingers brushing your hair back away from your eyes, then settling on brushing over your cheeks, her expression loving as you wait for her response.

“no angel,” she softly chuckles, “i can’t go anymore,” your brows furrow at her words. “we’ve been snowed in,” she explains, your expression switching from confusion to amusement, a soft laugh leaving you at the ridiculous scenario.

“oh no,” you manage out, humour evident in your tone as it was just such a shame you were going to be trapped in your house with your wife all day. “what are we going to do?” your tone still light-hearted and playful, her lips tugging up into that signature smirk of hers.

“i can think of a few things,” she purrs, her hands slipping under your shirt and rising, teasingly ghosting the underside of your breasts, your brow rising at her bold move.

“oh yeah?” your tone fauxing innocence as you loll your head back, letting her lips move to the underside of your jaw, placing soft kisses and occasionally nipping on your skin, earning a soft gasp every time. “tell me them,” you murmur, hands going to her hair, ruffling the dark locks, gently scratching the shaved underside of her head as she sucks a mark on your neck, pierced tongue lathing over sensitive skin, arousal swiftly pooling between your thighs.

“i say we christen the whole house,” she jokes, the two of you only having had sex in the bedroom as you had only moved in this week, the furniture around the house already set up. “i want to watch you come on my fingers, my face, my cock,” you groan at her dirty words, her hands cupping your breasts, touch confident as you arch your back closer to her, desperate to feel the pleasure that she’s promising you.

“fuck,” you sigh out, the idea something you definitely want to try, mouth parting at the feeling of her knee slotting between your thighs, your clit brushing against her toned leg perfectly. “please,” you sigh out, her lips ascending up your neck and along your jaw, coaxing you to lower your head to meet her addictive lips, eyes fluttering close in pleasure as your hips slowly roll against her, heat bubbling in your lower abdomen.

“yeah? You like the idea, angel?” she rasps against your lips, accent wrapping around her words making your head start to spin with desire and arousal. “show me how much you want it,” she purrs, one hand slipping from under your shirt to guide your hips against her leg more securely, a low moan leaving your lips.

“shit, rhea,” you pants out, hips rolling harder against her muscular thigh, a smirk playing on her lips at the way your face contorts with pleasure, forehead leaning against hers. her fingers teasingly ghosted over your nipples, mouth still relentless as she slides her tongue against yours, firm and dominant as you whimper at her taunting touch, desperate for her. you can feel her smirk into the kiss at your submissive noise, teeth gently nipping her lower lip to put some sort of fight for dominance up, her tongue effortlessly sliding back into your mouth and stealing your breath away. “please, I want it so bad,” you groan, panting into her mouth, going back for kiss after kiss, refusing to part from her mouth, “i want you to ruin me. everywhere,” your hips roll a little faster, a low groan escaping her at your words, lips lingering against each other when you part from her to gasp in pleasure, her tensing her thigh pleasantly for you to continue grinding against.

“you’re already ruined angel,” she teases, her thumb brushing over your nipple, her pinching on it softly to make you gasp lewdly into her mouth, hip bucking against her leg harder, a desperate noise leaving you. “i’ve barely touched you and I bet you’re dripping,” she husks out, hips stuttering against her thigh as your fingers tighten their hold on her dark locks, keeping her as close as possible while her hands slide down your body to your ass, firmly gripping onto you and guiding you along her thigh at a consistent pace, your hips faltering at the pleasurable sensation.

“rhea,” your tone a breathless sigh, laced with desire as your first release of the day approaches swiftly, a low chuckle escaping her at your needy tone, “fuck.”

“oh baby, are you going to come already?” she teases, tone a little condescending making your cheeks heat up with humiliation, warmth pooling between your thighs at her words, a whimper leaving you. Her teeth gently bite down on your lip before releasing it, her tongue soothing over the dull pain as you whine again, her eyes meeting your desperate ones while your hips are pulled along her thigh, clit brushing perfectly against the toned muscle.

“shit,” you sigh out, another wave of pleasure taking over your body, your lips captured once again in a passionate kiss. “yes,” you confess shyly in between a heated kiss, her eyes raking over your desperate form, eyes squeezed shut, lips kiss swollen and constantly searching for hers, hips rutting against her thigh like your life depended on it. “please, i’m so close,” you murmur, feeling her smirk into the next messy kiss.

“come for me angel,” she whispers, a desperate noise leaving you as you crash into your release.

with a final roll of your hips, your body tensed against hers, a string of moans being muffled by her incessant mouth while pleasure consumed you entirely, your hands shooting down to her hips, pulling her impossibly closer. her hands slowed your movements against her thigh, letting you buck against her as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm, body melting against hers as you panted for breath.

her gentle breath caressed your lips as you eventually opened your eyes, shamelessly smiling at her and claiming her lips once more, her mirroring your expression and smiling into the kiss, fingers moving to rest at your hips. her blues soften as the gaze lingers, her brow raising subtly at the mischief that appears in your eyes, the way you sinfully bite on your lower lip also gaining her attention.

“where next?”

your back swiftly met the cold tiles behind you, back arching off the wall at the contrast in temperature between your body and the surface, rhea kissing you apologetically as she pins you to the wall in the shower. your hand blindly reaches for the controls, turning on the water to have it running down your bodies, warming the rest of you up as heat was already building between your thighs, her lips attached to your jaw as your head lolls back, smiles playing on your lips.

your hands roam her naked body, caressing every inch of skin you could reach tenderly, touch growing in confidence as you work your way up and down her body, eventually settling on sliding your hand to her core, hearing her breath hitch as her mouth ghosted yours.

“i want you to use me,” you murmured against her lips, tone laced with submission, rhea groaning into a lewd kiss while her hands moved to your hair, brushing the wet strands back away from your face. her lips press against your lips messily, tongue sliding into your mouth briefly, earning a desperate whimper before she smirks into the kiss as her mind runs wild with sinful thoughts.

“on your knees, angel,” she rasps out, flipping your positions so she could lean against the tiles, her fingers threading through your soaked locks and guiding you onto the floor. you can't stop the small curse that leaves your lips as you settle on your knees, hands sliding down her perfectly sculpted body, fingers gliding over toned muscle and soft curves, resting on the back of her tattooed thighs as you peer up at her, her fingers caressing your cheek gently. “you look so pretty on your knees for me,” she murmurs, another groan leaving you as your lips move to pepper kisses along her thighs, eyes still trained on her, watching how her blues darken with desire.

your hands gently prompt her to spread her legs further, your mouth moving to kiss her core, lips deftly wrapping around her clit and sucking gently, a low moan escaping her. the noise goes straight to your core, the huskiness to her voice making your head spin, the taste of her on your tongue further fogging your mind with arousal as your mouth explored her wet sex. you moaned into her core at the feeling of her fingers pushing you closer to where she desperately needed you, nuzzling your face closer so that your mouth was covered in her slick, tongue swiping through her folds, teasing her entrance before moving to softly lick at her clit, a low groan being dragged out of her.

“fuck, just like that,” her voice raspy and low, your eyes fluttering open and peering up at her, a small noise leaving you at the sight of her. Her head was lolled back against the tiles, dark strands sticking to her forehead while her free hand went to her chest, groping at the soft flesh while her hips started to rock against your face, your eyes admiring her beauty. her sharp jawline caught your attention as you couldn’t take your eyes off of her, fingers drifting closer to her core as you needed to see her, hear her, fall apart from your sinful touch.

you slid a finger into her effortlessly, a guttural noise escaping her when you curl it at her sweet spot, her fingers tightening in your hair while her hips buck, her blue eyes casting their gaze down to look at you, her mouth parting as you keep the eye contact. with her blue eyes entranced by you, you slide in another finger and suck on her clit harder, pleasure and arousal coursing through you both at the action.

“angel,” she moans and your entire body reacts to how she moans your name, arousal instantly consuming you, the throb between your thighs incessant. “that’s it, good girl,” she pants out softly, her orgasm swiftly approaching as you thrust your fingers into her a little faster, curling them perfectly each time, the praise making you moan into her core.

the vibrations make her hips buck once more, your free hand lifting one of her thighs and guiding it to rest over your shoulder, letting her roll her hips against your hand easier as well as allowing you to swirl your tongue around her more comfortably, the ache in your jaw being ignored as you had to see her come undone.

you can tell she’s getting closer as her moans grow a little louder, her hips grinding against you a little frantically, chasing her release as you flatten your tongue, letting her use you as you wanted. her reactions encourage you to keep going, hips rolling harder against you, basically fucking your face as her fingers tighten their grip in your wet hair, keeping you as close as possible.

“fuck, i’m so close,” she groans out, focussing all of your attention towards her clit to drive her over the edge, her walls clenching around you desperately signalling how close she truly was. “baby,” she moaned, ragged breaths spilling from her lips before a guttural noise escaped her, body about to crash into her release. “don’t stop,” she groans out sinfully, back arching off the tiles and neck straining as her head lolls back, pleasure consuming her entire body as her hips rock against you, desperately chasing the waves of her high while your fingers and tongue continue to please her.

you waited until her hand softly pushed you away, working her through her aftershocks before settling on peppering kisses to her inner thighs, forehead resting against her soft skin as it was just so addictive, your entire body somehow longing for more of her.

“come here,” she murmurs softly, guiding you back up to meet her lips, the kiss a clash of teeth and tongue as you languidly explore each other's mouths, the dark haired girl moaning at the taste of herself. the kiss eventually fades away as you both lean against one another, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer, a smile tugging on her lips as you both relax under the warm spray for a moment.

after you’ve savoured the moment enough, you eventually start to wash each other’s bodies, relishing in the intimacy before deciding to have some food to recharge, an idea entering rhea's mind, one she knows you're going to love.

breakfast was filled with domesticity as you simply sat with each other, relishing in the peacefulness of the moment together as your shoulders brushed, her tatted hand resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle patterns against your skin while her other hand cared for a warm cup of coffee. it was the perfect moment, the two of you relaxing and recharging as planned before rhea announced she was going to grab something, your mind not paying too much attention to it as you moved to place your empty coffee cup near the sink, leisurely moving around the kitchen and letting your eyes scan over the living room, planning on how to decorate it with all the christmas decorations.

your arms braced your body against the countertop as you got lost in thought, mind picturing the best location for the christmas tree you were going to buy tomorrow, eyes flickering between two corners.

you jumped a little when a pair of muscular tatted arms wrapped around your body from behind, instantly relaxing at the familiar perfume that invaded your senses, a small smile growing on your lips as you lean backwards to rest against her body, eyebrows raising at the feeling of something between her legs, a low groan escaping you.

“what are you thinking so hard about?” she innocently muses, head resting against your shoulder, hands drifting down your barely covered body, resting at the waistband of your panties as you both decided there was no point in dressing properly, the house warm enough.

“where we’re going to put the tree,” you murmur back, going along with her innocent act, pushing your hips back further against the strap on, her lips pressing against your neck, teeth scraping over sensitive skin. “which corner do you think it would look better in?” you ask, moving your hands down your body to meet hers, guiding her hand to slide your panties to the side, wanting to feel the toy buried deep inside you.

“hmm the corner near the tv so we see it more often,” she answers, nipping gently on your neck while her hand moves to position the toy near your entrance, slowly grinding her hips against you, teasing you as much as possible.

the throb between your thighs is relentless as you feel the tip of the toy slide in and out of you tauntingly, rhea’s lips pulling into a smirk as she hears the small groan of annoyance leaving your lips.

“rhea,” you sigh out, tilting your head back to peer into her eyes, the green completely replaced with darkness and desire, body flush against yours as she continues to roll her hips, dragging the toy up and down your dripping folds.

“tell me how you want it,” she murmurs, lips ghosting yours, finally settling the toy at your entrance and slowly thrusting it in, a wave of pleasure flowing through you as her hips press into you, pinning you against the countertop, your hands bracing your body.

“rough,” your tone an affected whisper, "please, just fuck me.” her eyes somehow darken even more at your words, a dominant glint appearing in her eyes as she pulled the toy out of you, thrusting it in a little harder, her hands gliding over your body, eager to give you what you want.

“remember to use your safe words whenever you need to,” she reminds caringly before kissing your lips briefly, feeling you nod into the kiss before her hands move to between your shoulder blades, guiding you to lean forwards, bending you over the kitchen counter.

with every touch, you felt your body burn at the sensation, heat building swiftly at the pit of your lower abdomen as your hands reached across the cool surface, her hands sliding down your body to rest on your hips, the toy being slid out of you until only the tip remained in. when a desperate noise escaped you, she thrusted her hips into you hard, a broken moan leaving you at the pleasure that jolted through you, the feeling of it being buried so deep inside you making your head spin with desire.

your fingers pressed harder into the countertop, desperately trying to hold onto something as the room quickly fills with the lewd sounds of your moans, pants and the sound of the toy repeatedly being drilled into you, her pace merciless and rough as promised, hands gripping your waist tightly as she pounds into you in the middle of the kitchen.

“shit,” her tone low and raspy as her eyes can’t tear away from the sight of her cock being swallowed by your cunt, your arousal coating the toy. “you’re taking me so well angel,” she pants out, her hands guiding you to lift one of your legs up onto the countertop, spreading you out for her, the toy reaching even deeper inside you and hitting your sweet spot with every single thrust at the new position.

“fuck,” your moans grow louder as she snaps her hips into you, her tatted hand wrapping around your raised thigh flexing the veins slightly. helping you keep the flexible position, fingers digging in to create a pleasurable dull pain, your mind completely fogged with the thought of her and the toy being pumped mercilessly into you. “just like that, shit, don’t stop,” you beg with a submissive and desperate tone, rhea moving her hand to spank you roughly, knowing just how you like it, earning another loud noise to reverberate around the room, your eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure consuming you.

“you want more angel?” she pants, her hand rubbing over the reddening area, soothing the skin as she continues to drill her hips into you, strings of moans and chants of her name spilling from your lips.

“please, again,” you whimper, her hand roughly colliding with your other cheek, a red mark forming where her hand had just spanked. “rhea,” you groan after another spank, her dominance somehow making you even wetter, the mix of pain and pleasure causing the heat between your thighs to become intolerable, a pathetic whimper leaving you.

“oh angel,” she coos, her hands soothing once more over your sensitive skin before sliding to your core, fingers brushing your clit and making your body jerk against her, a lewd noise escaping you at the buzz of pleasure that washed through you. “you wanted me to be rough, can’t you handle it?” she teases, tone a little condescending, her sultry voice further adding to the warmth pooling between your legs, walls clenching around the toy desperately.

“i can-fuck, i can take it,” you manage out, her finger firmly circling your clit, body acting on its own as you try to push your hips back in time with her movements, your orgasm rapidly approaching at the vast amount of euphoria and pleasure coursing through you.

“are you sure about that, baby?” she husks out, her hips thrusting harder and deeper into you, more pleasure flooding through you, your body on the edge of another powerful release. “hold it,” her tone leaves no room for argument, a displeased and pitiful noise leaving you, body begging to let your release crash over you.

“rhea,” you plead, her hands snaking around your waist and guiding you to stand again, the toy cruelly being pulled out of you when she can tell you can’t hold it anymore, an annoyed groan leaving you as she turns you around.

her lips silence your frustrated noises, hands going to the back of your thighs, lifting you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist as her tongue slides into your mouth, dominating the heated kiss as she carries you to the dining table nearby, placing you on the edge of it, lips refusing to part.

her show of strength has you moaning into her mouth, gasping in pleasure when she slides the toy back into you, the guttural noise being swallowed by her mouth, lips hot and feverish, partly sucking on yours to drag more noises out of you, arms braced by your side and hips rutting up into you.

“fuck,” you groan, the noise muffled by the wet sounds of your mouths, the feeling of her firm tongue dominating your mouth making you delirious with arousal, the toy that was being thrusted deep inside you making it even harder to think.

“angel,” she pants out and it’s sinful that someone can sound so hot, a whine leaving you as the tip of the toy hits your weak spot repeatedly, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure while her hand moves to your throat, applying pressure that has you whimpering. “look at me,” she commands, your eyes fluttering open as your mouth parts, broken noises being ripped out of you while more arousal pools between your thighs at her predatory look.

the feeling of her hand at your throat, hips mercilessly pounding into you and your previous release being denied has you right back on the edge already, a hint of embarrassment filling you at how quickly she was able to have you begging once again, the shame vanishing at the look of pure desire and hunger in her eyes as she needed to see you come undone for her right now.

“please,” you manage out, eyes pleading with her, her lips once again meeting yours, addicted and intoxicated by each other as you refuse to part for a moment, your hands moving from her body to ruffle her hair, keeping her as close as possible. “i’m so close, please don’t stop,” your tone breathless, her hand still firmly wrapped around your throat, lips parting from yours but you chase them, leaning in and panting against her mouth softly, claiming them to try and muffle your moans.

“come for me,” she groans into your mouth, a string of saliva forming between your mouths before you crash them together again, a low, guttural noise being ripped from the back of your throat when your body is finally thrown into your release.

your moans become unrestricted as your orgasm floods through you powerfully, body buzzing with satisfaction as you clench around the toy, obeying her words as you come all over the strap, vision blurring with pleasure. your fingers tighten their grip on her hair, earning a small hiss from her while her teeth gently nip on your lip, a groan leaving you as you roll your hips as best you can, trying to ride out the last waves of pleasure.

rhea’s lips softly pepper kisses around your face as you recover, a smile pulling at your lips at her gentle and tender action, arms wrapping around her neck loosely, forehead resting against hers while soft pants fill the room.a surprised squeak leaves you when she lifts you off the table, your legs once again wrapping around her securely, face hiding at the crook of her neck as she takes you over to the sofa, falling back gently onto it, having your body straddle her lap.

your lips press a lewd kiss to her neck, tongue licking a stripe over her warm and addictive skin, her head lolling back against the soft cushions behind her, baring her soft skin for you to mark. teeth scrape ever so gently against her skin, earning a small groan from the dark haired girl as you pull back to see her darkened blue, her hands caressing the skin of your hips as they slide under your loose t-shirt, her mouth tugging up into that signature smirk.

you can’t help but let your gaze flicker across her features, admiring them all and subtly biting on your lip, eyes descending down her sharp jawline and the creamy skin of her neck, trailing lower and gazing lustfully at her breasts, the shape of them visible through her shirt. your mind couldn’t help but think back to the many times you’ve had your head between them, lips wrapped around her nipples to drag out sinful sounds, eyes peering up at her aroused state as she would guide you lower, eager to feel your mouth on her lower.

you were snapped out of the various thoughts by her tipping your chin up to make you look into her amused blue, her brow slightly raised.

“my eyes are up here angel,” she teases leaning forwards to press her mouth to yours, a smile on both of your lips as the pace is slow and intimate, your hands resting on her shoulders as hers wrap around your waist, lifting you up and guiding your back down onto the toy, a low moan leaving your lips.

“i can’t get enough of you,” she mumbles into a slow and tender kiss, her hands softly guiding you up and down the toy once more, your lips parting to gasp into her mouth at the feeling, the new angle having pleasure slowly spark through your body, the slower and more intimate pace having your heart melt in your chest, mind unable to comprehend how much you love her. “i’ll never get enough of you,” she whispers into a kiss, a small whine leaving you as your hips raise and sink back down onto the toy, her hand drifting lower to your ass, guiding your movements, the base of the strap grinding against her dripping core.

“fuck, rhea,” you murmur, your eyes meeting her darkened but loving gaze, the heat between your thighs doubling at the mere glance, eyes squeezing shut at the wave of pleasure that consumed you when her hand moved between your bodies, finding your clit to slowly push you over the edge. “i love you,” you softly pant into her mouth, breath fanning over her lips as you struggled to kiss her back, breathless from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and love coursing through you, the dark haired girl’s smile growing wider.

“i love you too, angel,” she hummed into your mouth, lips stealing occasional kisses as your lips lingered against one another, brushing delicately as your fingers dug in slightly at her shoulders, groaning at her husky tone. “i love this body, the way it reacts to my touch,” she murmurs, lips travelling along your jaw, eventually reaching the shell of your ear and nibbling softly on your earlobe, her sensual breaths making your mind cloud with the thought of her. “the way it’s always at my mercy, the way you're always at my mercy,” she continues with a raspy and sultry tone, her accent beautifully wrapped around her words making you moan lowly, a sigh of pleasure escaping her.

“rhea,” you whine and it’s nothing but desperate, fingers threading through her hair and tugging her head back gently, needing to look at her as your body is once again ready to fall over the edge, her hips leisurely thrusting up into you as your pace becomes more frantic, the base of the toy perfectly brushing over her clit.

“yeah, angel?” she teases in a pant, her free hand moving back to your throat, fingers splaying around your throat softly, applying a small amount of pressure as her hips thrust up harder, chasing her own release.

“please,” is all you can muster, mind not able to produce anything else as your hips bounce hurriedly on the toy buried inside you, her lips silencing the small moans escaping you.

“lose control for me,” she whispers and you can’t help but let out a wanton moan of her name, body tensing in her lap as your release crashes through you. The sight of you, mouth parted and hips rutting against hers, throws rhea into her own orgasm, pleasure consuming you both entirely as you move one another, chasing the last waves of ecstasy together, eventually slowly and relaxing against one another, melting into a tender embrace.

soft pants and gentle breaths filled the room as you relaxed against her comfortable body, rhea resting against you as you both recovered, your fingers threading through her hair in a comforting manner, scratching her scalp tenderly. The dark haired girl’s hands slide up and down your back in a loving caress, warmth fluttering in your chest as your eyes flutter open, meeting her softening blue as she presses her lips softly against you, conveying her love for you into the intimate action.

“i love you,” she whispers once again, your smile growing before you move to hide your face at the comfort of her neck, hands moving to wrap around her body, cuddling closer into her body.

“i love you too,” you murmur, lips pulling up into a teasing smile, rhea feeling the action and awaiting your amusing comment. “but this isn’t getting you out of helping me decorate,” a soft chuckle leaves her lips, body shaking against you as she can’t help but smile, her heart beating wildly with love.

“oh no,” she sighs out dramatically, as if it was the worst thing possible, not minding helping you in the slightest. “we can do that later,” she says, hands caressing down your body, her lips pressing against yours as she smiles into the kiss, your head shaking playfully at her antics, “but right now, i want to cuddle before i have you screaming my name again.” You groan at her words, grinning against her lips, not minding this new mini plan.

“that sounds like an amazing idea,” you whisper amused, unable to wipe the smile off your lips, warmth bubbling in your chest at how much you love this woman.