Description: Cas x reader. Super fluffy. Request does the explaining for me for this one!
Words: 2,280 (oops!)
Author’s Note: Can we give a collective round of applause for whoever invented the autosave feature, without which I would have deleted every single word of this. ANYWAY, here it is, everything seems to have been Dean lately but here we are with some of that loveable angel we all so adore, he’s back, everyone’s alive and he’s still a sweetie. Hope this is what you wanted, anon!
Request: Can you do a fic (Cas x reader) where Sam and Dean find out that the reader likes Cas and visa versa and they tease Cas and the reader. In the middle a tease out of no where Cas kisses the reader and Dean gets over protective and Sam holds dean back.
Easy does it. Too much or too little pressure at this critical point and you’ve lost it. You just needed that simple sound, just a little touch to the right and- *click*
There it was. You pushed down on the handle and let the door swing open on its hinges, it would have squeaked if you hadn’t put a little WD-40 on the hinges, but this wasn’t exactly your first break in.
“Y/N’s got a magic touch, eh Cas?” Dean’s voice rumbled out low and quiet behind you.
You pursed your lips desperately trying to ignore the interaction and you crept forwards. The house was dark, the only light coming from the glow of streetlights through thin curtains. It was absolutely essential that you stayed silent, the element of surprise was key here, you dreaded to think of the consequences if you didn’t, Cas would probably be okay but you and the Winchesters? Not so much.
By the second room, everything was looking too quiet. Old floorboards felt like they’d creak under the pressure of you and your companions’ weight but by some blind luck they didn’t. Within a few minutes, it was clear the ground floor was empty but that only meant all the more fun for the top floor or basement.
You turned to look at Dean, who gave a hand signal for you and Cas to take the basement, whilst he and Sam scouted the second floor for ‘unsavouries’. You gave Cas an encouraging smile and started to lead the way to the door, but he quickly made sure he was in front of you in case of danger as it opened.
“Three… Two… One,” you mouthed at him and he timidly opened it.
One hand out slightly behind him to ensure you were still following and safe, he walked into the dank cellar. The sound of your breath was practically all you could hear as you followed the swish of trench coat in front of you down the stairs. You got to the bottom and strained your ears against the silence. Nothing.
“Cas?” You breathed out.
“I’m here, Y/N… but it’s empty,” he replied in his gruff voice.
You breathed a sigh of relief but it suddenly hitched, you didn’t need to say a word as the pair of you thought the same thing. You both bounded up the stairs, not caring to muffle your steps.
“Sam? Dean?” You hissed, stood still at the top of the stairs.
You stepped back, a subconious hand blindly reaching out for Cas’ coat. A sound of movement came from the room next door and you shrank back very slightly towards the angel.
“Nada,” Dean said at normal volume as he walked in.
“That’s it? Nothing at all?” You said, still not having moved a muscle.
“Looks like they got wind of us coming, nothing but a few bits of rubbish left behind,” Sam sighed.
You let out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding and let your shoulders relax.
“You gonna let go of your pet puppy there?” Dean smirked, nodding at your hand still clutching the edge of Cas’ coat. Quickly, you pulled your hand back and shoved it in your pocket, a little embarrassed.
“So,” you said, clearing your throat, “what now?”
“Back to the motel, see if we’ve got any leads as to where they’d flee to,” Sam replied, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes lingered on the hand you’d just snapped back.
“I’ll meet you there shortly, I need to take care of something first,” Castiel said.
“Oh I bet you do,” Dean muttered half under his breath, but loud enough to elicit a blush from you.
“It’s alright Cas, we’ll see you in a bit,” you smiled politely at the angel but making sure to throw a quick glare at Dean in the process.
“Bye Y/N,” Cas nodded and within an instant he was gone with a rustle of fabric.
Sam and Dean couldn’t even keep a straight face for more than two seconds before both brothers cracked into a grin.
“Don’t you even-” you started before Dean cut you off.
“Bye Y/N,” he said in a dramatic voice with added gravel for effect, “I’ll meet you ‘shortly’.”
Dean gave you a schoolboy grin and raised an eyebrow. It would be impolite to repeat the exact response that came to mind, but instead you settled for a simple:
“You’re an absolute moron.”
Sam looked as if he was going to add a comment, but a steely glare from you obviously made him think otherwise. He instead made the wise decision to begin to lead the way out of the apparently abandoned building and back to the impala parked outside.
The Winchesters had made it their latest game to tease Cas and you at every available opportunity. They knew you liked him and to be honest, it was easy to see that he had a soft spot for you but with an angel how could you really tell what he was thinking? You couldn’t. So that was why the Winchesters needed to back the hell off and let whatever happen, happen or whatever was just going to stay as it was, stay as it was. It wasn’t rocket science, but apparently to your two imbecile hunting partners it was.
You yanked open the car door and slumped into the back seat, it was barely a 15 minute drive back to the motel which you were pretty thankful for. Due to the lack of rooms, you’d been sharing with Sam and Dean. And as luck would have it, as well as the two beds in the room, there was also a sofa which Dean had kindly volunteered (been forced) to take, so at least you could somewhat ignore them.
Dean pulled the car up in the closest possible spot to the room and cut the engine.
“I’m taking first dibs on the shower,” you said before anyone could get a word in.
“Seriously? If I once sit down, I’m not getting back up again,” Dean whined.
“Not my problem,” you grinned, jumping out of the car quickly.
You barely made it 5 steps before you went careering straight into Cas who had chosen to appear in the small space between you and the motel room door. You ended up with a face full of fabric and would have stumbled backwards if a strong hand hadn’t stopped you.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he muttered, hurriedly taking a step to one side.
“Bloody hell, you nearly gave me a freaking heart attack,” you gasped out.
You took a deep breath and shook your head slightly, only Cas could get away with that and not get a swift jab to the shoulder. Honestly, it’d probably break your hand anyway but that wasn’t the point.
“Hey Cas,” Sam nodded, giving a small wave as he rounded the side of the impala, “that was quick, thought you had something to do?”
“Yeah he does,” Dean mumbled, earning an elbow even from Sam this time.
Cas furrowed his brow but didn’t bother asking what he meant, instead Cas looked between the three of you and carried on as if Dean hadn’t spoken.
“It was not of import, others can deal with it.”
Dean was still smirking to himself when Sam opened up the door and you all made your way into the little motel room. You walked straight over to your bag to rummage for some clothes to change into for your shower, you loved them all dearly, but you were not going to be stuck with another shower where the hot water had run out. The Winchesters had a habit of taking long showers but they had already made their way over to one of the beds where all of your research had been laid out and were starting to flick through some of the latest information. Cas was standing around aimlessly looking between you and the brothers and you felt yourself blush slightly when you made eye contact with him but more strangely, he seemed to mirror it. You hurriedly cleared you throat and turned away, announcing that you were getting in the shower.
“Alright, we’ll let you know if we find anything,” Dean said over his shoulder as he broke off from the research to find a beer.
You dumped your things in the bathroom, closed the door and stripped off. Hopping into the shower, you were surprised to see this motel actually supplied a small shampoo and shower gel, it was pretty rare for the motels you stayed in to supply more than a cobweb and spider. The water pressure wasn’t great but it did the job, the water temperature, however, was not so ideal. Just as you finished putting the shampoo on the water started coming out ice cold.
You jumped out of the stream of water, half falling into the wall as you gasped in shock.
“Hey Y/N, you alright in there?” Sam’s voice came through the door.
“Fine!” You squeaked, “water’s gone cold!”
A low voice and sudden muffled laughter could be heard through the thin wall. You threw a sarcastic look at the space between you knew they couldn’t see you, but somehow it made you feel a little better. And to be perfectly honest, you probably didn’t want to know what jokes had been cracked anyway.
You finished off the rest of your shower in record time, trying to get as little of your skin touching the icy water at any one time as possible. By the time you had jumped out and toweled yourself off, you were half shivering. You threw on clothes as quickly as possible and made your way out again.
“Someone else’s turn. That was bloody cold,” you groaned, setting your dirty clothes back on top your bag.
“I don’t think I’m the one that needs the cold shower,” Dean laughed.
You rolled your eyes, Sam looked as if he was just trying to keep his head low and out of the firing line, but the smirk on his face was clear too, out of habit you looked over to Cas who was surprisingly also throwing Dean a hard glare.
“Mature,” you said, masking your own smile at the angel’s embarrassment. You felt another shiver rattle down your spine as you warmed back up.
“I’m sure Cas could warm you up…” Sam said quietly, flicking over a page of his book inconspicuously.
“Oh for God’s sake, not you too?!”
“Hey, we just call them as we see them,” Dean grinned.
“You know what, Winchester-”
Before you could finish your comment, you were cut off by Cas as he strode across the small room in a few long strides. He stopped a few feet in front of you and stared intently at you.
“Cas, are you alright? Are-”
You went silent as Cas cupped the side of your face and pressed his lips to yours suddenly. You let out a small noise of shock but you were quickly taken up in the softness of his lips on your own. His other hand laced into your wet hair and pulled you in tight against him. Your own hand found the lapel of his jacket and you balled your fist in the soft fabric, your fingers shaking slightly in either nerves or exhilaration. You could feel his heart hammering almost as hard as yours against your hand but you felt yourself needing air. Reluctantly he pulled away, sucking your bottom lip ever so slightly as he did.
“You son of a-” Dean said loudly. You snapped your head around and saw him trying to make his was past Sam who was conveniently standing in the way. He actually looked… annoyed?
“Did I do something wrong?” Cas said nervously looking between you and Dean.
“No,” you smiled, reaching out and lacing your fingers with his.
“Yes! You don’t just- just-” Dean stuttered.
“What? He doesn’t what?” You turned around confused.
For someone who had spent his last few weeks trying to push the two of you together, you hadn’t expected whatever this was. Dean stood open mouthed for a second before he stood back and took a deep breath.
“I just… man, I don’t know,” Dean said pulling a face, “you don’t just waltz across a room and… and… whatever.”
You pursed your lips, trying to suppress a grin. Your heart was still hammering fast in your chest and you could practically feel the happiness radiating off of the angel next to you, but Dean? He just looked confused.
“Is the great Dean Winchester actually out of things to say?” You giggled, raising an eyebrow.
“No, it’s just, well-”
“Can’t form a come back?” Sam grinned, giving his brother a nudge which he shook off grumpily. Sam turned back to you and Cas, with a weird look, “so are you guys… a thing now?”
You took a sharp breath and turned to look at Cas. He looked as happy as you’d ever seen him, laced with a few nerves maybe, but happy.
“Are you, I don’t know, was that okay?” You said, chewing on your lip.
“It was… incomparable,” Cas replied, a smile twitching at his own lips, “I would very much like to do it again, if, well, you enjoyed it?”
“Hm, I don’t know,” you said, pulling him down gently by his tie, “think I might need to remember.”
You heard Dean whining about the two of you getting a room just as Cas’s lips met yours, but you didn’t care. It was time Dean had to reap what he sowed, after all…
Pairing: Reader x Sam Summary: Arrogant. Selfish. A bitch. That’s how Dean would describe the reader in this story. She refuses to work with anyone but herself and trusts no one except her own gun. But can the Winchesters crack her? Will they figure out what she’s running away from? Where did she get those scars and who is this Brandon guy? Warning: being held hostage, choking, near death experience…
Imagine Jamie meeting Claire the first time he stays at Leoch and Collum promises him to someone. But they end up eloping together at the gathering just like his parents before.
Running in the family; How to elope - Fraser style.
So to make this a wee bit more tangible I have altered the Jamie-Claire age gap. Jamie is 16 and Claire is 18, so only 2 years difference. She is still a time-traveller and has come through the stones, though.
The announcement still rung in his ears as Jamie paced the courtyard.
‘…engaged to be married…’
‘…on her sixteenth…’
Those few words cut him to the core.
What if he didn’t wish to marry her?
What if they weren’t meant to be?
He barely kent the lassie, and she was still just a wee bairn to him.
Another pawn in his uncle’s games, Jamie knew he was being thrust into this ‘partnership’, not for his own benefit, but for theirs. Marrying him off to the wean kept Lallybroch in their clutches.
Stomping through the silent halls, Jamie walked the length of the castle, from the grand hall right down into the recesses of the peat-scented cellars.
The sound of a rattling chain pulled him from his melancholy and he twisted his head in the direction of the noise.
Cautiously, he tip toed towards the closed door, the thick bars of the viewing window hindering his view of the captive that lay beyond. As he approached, a flash of deep brown passed into view. He swore he’d seen thick curls and he tilted his head in confusion.
“Hello…” he broached, laying his hands against the rough wood as he peeked through the prison door.
Catching a glimpse of her profile as she turned, Jamie took a stunted breath and stepped back a little.
So it was a lassie, a young one at that. She couldn’t have been more than a few years older than him.
Glancing down, he could see the thick manacle that kept her chained to the floor. Bolted around her ankle, she could move a wee bit about the tiny room, but it wasn’t enough to allow her access to the door.
“What have they got ye trussed up in here for?” he whispered, once it became obvious that she wasn’t offering anything up herself.
He couldn’t fully understand himself, but something about her had him *captivated*.
“Theft…” she spoke, finally breaking her silence as she turned fully to face him. “I stole a horse. Mr. Mackenzie didn’t seem particularly pleased at my explanation, and so here I am.”
A sassenach. No wonder Collum had her locked away.
“…and why, pray tell, did ye steal a horse?” he replied, a hint of wonder in his voice. To steal from the Mackenzie took some *nerve*.
“I was trying to escape,” she retorted, a glimmer of rebelliousness lighting up her liquid amber eyes.
“Ach, I take it ye didna get verra far then, aye?”
Shrugging her shoulders, she blinked slowly, a coy smile lighting her face. “Quite far, and yet,” sighing, she turned away from him, “not far enough.”
“Aye, I see that lass,” Jamie returned, his interested piqued. “Do I dare ask why ye were trying to escape?”
Rotating slightly back towards him, she twisted her head back in his direction. “They were holding me prisoner.”
The hallways were dark now, the candles extinguished as the evening’s celebrations had come to an end.
Hand in hand, Jamie led his newest companion through the quiet castle, hoping that all of the inhabitants were suitably half-cocked; enough that they all might be incapacitated for a time yet.
“This isna right. I dinna even ken yer name,” he whispered, slipping his fingers through hers as they came to a stop by the last corner. “Seems only polite since we’re sneaking awa’ like this.”
“It’s Claire,” she replied, a hint of humour in her tone. “Claire Beauchamp, and I’m so very pleased to have met you…”
“Jamie,” he finished for her. “Jamie Fraser, at yer service.”
Only one man stood between the pair and the portcullis. An elderly guard leaned against his broadsword as he napped at the exit to the castle.
‘Ye need to be utterly still, Claire. We can get passed him wi’out much trouble, I’m sure. But if Collum had ye paraded through the castle on yer return, afore he had ye clad in irons, yer probably well known to all o’ clan Mackenzie.” Pulling the pilfered cape around her face, Jamie tucked her stray curls beneath the heavy fabric.
“Thank you…truly,” she added, stepping closer to Jamie’s side as they readied themselves for a swift exit. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Jamie Fraser.”
Jamie had been right, it didn’t take much to sneak past the snoozing guard and it wasn’t long before he had Claire mounted on his horse. To his mind, he couldn’t work out *why* he’d needed to free her so badly, but something deep in his heart told him he should.
“Where were ye going, Mistress?” he asked rather formally, feeling the breath of his father against his neck, combined with Claire’s as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Would you think I was mad if I told you I couldn’t remember?” she answered, her heart pounding as she clenched her thighs around the outside of his legs, the steady gait of the horse forcing them together.
“I’m promised,” Jamie began. An unspoken truth lay between them. In the short time they had been acquainted, he and Claire had forged something of a bond, “to a lass that I dinna wish to marry.”
Clicking his tongue, Jamie tugged the horse off the trail, to avoid trackers hunting them down once they discovered Claire’s disappearance.
“Oh,” Claire whispered, her hands gripping solidly at his hips as they picked up pace through the underbrush. “And is there a girl you *would* like to marry?”
“Aye, I do. If she werena to object to the idea…”
Nuzzling her nose into the back of his musty jacket, Claire forgot her initial quarms and lost herself in Jamie’s scent. “I don’t think she would be…” she sighed, her mouth watering at the prospect.
This was daft, a complete leave of her senses. But she couldn’t find it in herself to be perturbed by the situation.
Jamie clenched the reins in his hands, the heat of her filling him with warmth from toe to head.
‘Jamie,’ a tender voice echoed in his ear, ‘ye’ve the Fraser about ye, my lad…’ the wind whipped up around them, stealing the soft ghost of his mother, his cheeks pinking at the illusion.
“My da stole my mam away, Claire,” he began, the memory of his parent’s stories alight in his mind now, “just as I did you. Weel, apart from springing her from prison, aye?”
Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes as she snuggled closer still to Jamie, revelling in the close proximity of his alluring body.
“Maybe,” she murmured, letting her hand slide down and along his thigh as the stars twinkled through the breaks in the trees above them, “this is just a case of history repeating?”
Chuckling, Jamie tightened his heels around their mount, urging him ever onwards. “Maybe yer right Claire,” he replied, an eager lilt to his tone as his soul lightened at the prospect of marrying a girl he actually had designs on, instead of one chosen for him by his greedy uncles. “Either way, I think my da will love ye.”
‘…as I do…’ he thought, but did not say.
‘One look was all it took,’ he remembered, his father’s voice now reverberating around them as the crickets began to chirp beside them, ‘just one look, Jamie, my boy.’
“Springing a criminal from the Mackenzie jail, damnit Jamie lad!” Brian Fraser muttered, irritation lacing his tone. “I sent him there to better him, Murtagh. No’ to have him upset half of our relatives. Where did I go wrong?”
“Gi’ the boy a chance, mo bhràthair, we dinna ken the circumstances yet. He might have a good reason for doing what he did,” Murtagh appeased, trying to keep Brian from throttling his young son moments after they tracked him down.
Through the trees, Murtagh caught a brief glimpse of wee Jamie’s horse, and nodded at Brian, a knowing look in his eye.
“He better had, Murtagh, I’m telling ye now,” Brian chuntered, his gaze hardening as he caught his first view of Jamie through the trees.
Claire sat on a rock facing Jamie as he readied the fire for the evening, tugging the thick tartan around her shoulders, she shrugged the hood from her head, letting the slight breeze blow through her loose locks.
“James Alexander Malcolm *MACKENZIE FRASER*!” came the billowing voice through the forest, making the birds scatter from the branches in fear.
Jamie’s face paled as Claire sat bolt upright, her eyes wide as she took in the two men who strode, meaningfully, through the tree line and into their little camp.
“What are ye playing at, mo mhac?” Brian boomed, slamming his palm against the bark as he stared blindly at his son, rage colouring his whole being.
“Da, hear me out…” Jamie began, shuffling his feet nervously in the detritus of the forest floor, “it isne…”
“What I think? It better no’ be! I had Dougal on our doorstep, Dougal Mackenzie himself, Jamie. Have ye any idea the thoughts that have been going through my head?”
“He saved my life,” Claire piped up, standing behind Jamie and peeking out from behind him, brave but not so bold as to take on Jamie’s father without some moral support. “It was my fault. Mr. Mackenzie had me locked away for stealing his horse, and Jamie got me free.”
“A sassenach?” Murtagh whispered in awe, his and Brian’s eyes fixed solely on Claire now as they took the measure of her.
Jaw clenched tight, Claire stood straight, coming out from behind Jamie as she took full responsibility for her part in the whole affair. She would not back down, nor would she cower.
As Brian took a step forward, Claire took one back, certain that her number was up and Mr. Fraser and his comrade would have her marched back to Castle Leoch before sunup.
“A lassie, a wee sassenach lass? Tell me yer pulling my leg, Jamie?” Brian questioned, looked between the pair as he stepped closer still.
“I love her, Da…” he sighed, his eyes holding his father’s as Claire coughed and spluttered behind him, her heart pounding against her chest as the words hit her ears, “and her name is *Claire*.”
“Ah Dhia,” Murtagh cursed, lowly, his jaw dropping as he saw the truth that lay between the young pair. “It’s happening again, Brian, lad. She’s his Ellen,” he exclaimed, watching as Claire slipped her hand into Jamie’s and swallowed, audibly.
“Ach, Christ, Jamie,” Brian murmured, dropping his head in defeat.
“Ye willna send her back, will ye, Da?” Jamie begged, pulling Claire into his side and shielding her from any would be harm that might befall her from his father and godfather.
“Nay,” Brian replied, a hint of ire still lacing his tone. “I won’t.”
Turning to Claire, Brian eyed her, skepticism written all over his face. “What, and tell me honestly, are yer intentions for my lad, Claire? Since I dinna ken where yer from or *who* ye are.”
“I…” she began, her hands shaking as she tried to reason with herself what had occurred between her and Jamie. How could she explain to his family, when she didn’t truly know herself? “I would never hurt him, Mr. Fraser.”
“Do you know what you’ve started, Mistress?” Murtagh broke in, certain that there was something powerful between Claire and Jamie, but also fearful of the wrath of clan Mackenzie. “What lengths Collum and Dougal will go to get justice for what Jamie has done? No’ only did he free ye, a known thief, but he also eloped away from his obligations.”
“I know fine well what he did for me, sir,” Claire bit back, shifting forward slightly, straightening her shoulders as she spoke, “and…” she paused, taking a large breath as she finally acknowledged the strange feelings bubbling under her skin, “I love him too.”
Smiling from ear to ear, Jamie stepped back in line with Claire. Dropping her head against his side, Claire exhaled, letting out a breath of relief at her admittance.
“Weel then, bairns,” Brian said, scratching his head and chuckling under his breath, all manner of irritation extinguished, “it looks like we have a wedding to organise.”
“And fast,” Murtagh interjected, humour coating his words, “afore Collum catches up wi’ ye, again!”
Three days had passed since Rick’s flipped his switch back. Liz didn’t bother to check on him. In fact, she didn’t even look at her phone for three days. What was the use? She was beyond happy the old Rick was back, yet a part of her truly wasn’t over everything that had happened between the two. She finally decided to look through her phone and to her surprise she had a text from Damon asking her to go check on him. Liz hesitated. Why the hell is he asking me of all people? She thought. She finally decided to respond back. (Why? He was other girls to do that.) She his send before recalling the look on Rick’s face the moment his eyes met hers that night. (Fine.) She sent after.
An hour later the blonde found herself walking into the Salvatore’s home, not bothering to knock. She heard sounds coming from the cellar. She groaned as she darted down the stairs. “SERIOUSLY DAMON !? YOU LOCKED HIM BACK IN THE CELL-” She stopped as she saw him sitting on the cot, with the cellar door wide open. He looked more pale than usual, his eyes were almost lifeless. He looked miserable. Liz couldn’t help but pout at the sight. She stood next to the cellar, leaning her shoulder against it as she folded her arms over her chest. “H-hi…"
She had a triple six tattoo//kinda scared me for a minute//She said “I really really like you”//before I knew it I was in it//She had a white smile, black hair,//took my hand and let me up the darkest stairs.//When I open up my eyes she is on top of me,//coming at for a bite.//Then she stopped and said//I love this life//But it only lasts a minute//And do you love this life?//Cuz if you do, //I promise I can make it last forever
- I love this life by Kim Cesarion
This isn’t her scene. Dark rooms. Shady lighting. The amount of cigarette smoke to leave the impression of a forest fire. Seriously, it must have been building up for the last century. Yep, this is not her scene. But what can one do when you just found out that your ex is three seconds from getting hitched to a blonde bimbo (who also happens to call you little, frequently) and you’re all alone over the weekend because everyone else are up to their knees in class work. This time, and this time only, she hates the fact that she’s just a freshman when all of her friends are years above her. Still, it doesn’t really change the fact that she made the foolish decision to check out that bar with neon lights, the one that she can see from her dorm.
The air hits her like a shot to the chest, and she coughs when the smoke sets her lungs on fire. When she recovers she finds that no one is taking notice of her, or her close to suffocating on the air. It first when she tries to make her way over to the actual bar that a guy turns his head to look at her. His eyes follow the length of her body, dark as they are even under the light of a bright lantern, and then he quirks a smile. The kind of smile that sends shivers down her back and makes her ears turn a shade redder. It’s an unsettling feeling and it grows as he almost looks like he licks his lips before looking her over again.
She quickly turns her eyes away and quickens her pace until she reaches the bar.
Not her scene. Maybe the name should have sent her off running, in any direction but for the door, what’s that kind of name anyway - The Cellar. It sounds like a bad horror move, in which a blonde and naive girl like herself gets killed before the opening track has even ended. It’s a understatement to say that this isn’t one of the bars near campus her friends and herself visits, or anyone on Silas University. Could be because of the rumors that involve more than one dead person. The reporter in her doesn’t believe in the talk, she’s a firm believer in facts and so far there have been no actual facts to prove that something creepy goes on. She’s sure of it - she did her homework - and besides, if there was something going on maybe she could get a good story out of it. That could be the reason why she didn’t take off running, that and the fact that she has a very unfortunate need to give in to her curiosity.
“Ehm… Hello?”. She waves in the direction of the girl, who turned her to her as soon as she made any kind of attempt at getting some attention. “Excuse me?”, she tires again a little bit louder. But she gets nothing. She she slumps down on her heels again and sighs heavily.
When she gives up a fifth try at getting something to drink, she looks around the bar. Apart from the guy with the looming eyes, there’re are only a handful of people moving about in the shadows and a pair of women seated in one of the booths in the furthest corner. She tries to a make out the woman to the left, sitting with one leg swung up on the table with her foot jiggling over the edge, but all the dark allows for her to see is the red heels. When her eyes looks up from the red they find a pair of glowing eyes staring back at her. She quickly averts her eyes.
What am I doing here, she asks herself and rubs slowly at her temple. She would never have come here, she tells herself and sighs once again.
She spins around, only to be caught by those eyes again. What’s with these people and their eyes, she wonders as she swallows hard. She shakes her head.
“You’re sure? I could get something for you if you do”, the woman offers with a silky voice, which also sounds raspy as it leaves her tongue, like every word is sandpaper against her skin and yet water when they reach her ears.
“I’m sure, thanks”, she answers and forces a smile. It’s a shaky one and she believes for a second that she can hear the woman chuckle, but she must have imagined it, she tells herself.
The woman takes a step closer, still standing in the shadows but now her face isn’t impossible to make out, so she does and the woman’s features are edgy. She looks like a statue with those straight and symmetrical linings.
“I saw you watching me earlier”, the woman says and it sounds like a whisper. Something tightens in her chest at the sound of that raspy voice.
“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, I was just-”.
She breathes out slowly, careful not to move in any way. Why, she doesn’t know. It just seemed like a bad idea. “Yeah, maybe”, she answers.
The woman nods. Then, she takes another step into the light of the lanterns on above them. The woman’s eyes are as dark as the other guy’s, pupils dilated and shimmering with something indefinable. In the lights he doesn’t look all edgy, but also hard. Like her skin is actually made by marble. Her hair is a black as the night sky. She wonders what it would feel like to feel those black curls slide between her fingers, if they would feel as light as the look, if they would back her hands ache for more to touch, more to take in of the unknown woman clad in all black. The corset she’s wearing looks painfully tight and it almost hurts as much just to look at it, but not in the bad way. And not in her eyes. The woman’s legs are covered by a pair of what looks like leather pants, which also sends small and deep going shivers down her spine. Not the same ones that were doused by that guy earlier. (Who, by the way, is still lingering in the background, watching her with those dark eyes.)
“What’s your name?”, the woman asks as she steps to the side and then places herself beside her, with her arms on the counter. She isn’t sure why her immediate reaction is to answer the question, if there’s anything her father has taught her it’s not to trust strangers. That and how to properly use bear spray to its full use. The woman smile, a white and shining smile. “I’m not a serial killer. I want to know the name of the girl I’m buying a drink. That’s it”.
“That’s not-”, she tries to finish the sentence but the woman only sighs, putting an end to her answer prematurely.
“Belisama won’t serve you, trust me. You’re not her kind of… customer”, the woman says and there’s something to the way her eyes light up for a moment, but when they find hers again they are back to being dark and mysterious.
“Laura. My name is Laura”.
The woman whistles, low and short, and that’s enough to make the girl behind the bar to look up. They don’t even make eye contact, yet the girl tenses up and moves their way. Without a word, two beers are being served to them and the girl, apparently called Belisama, only nods to the other woman before disappearing again. Quickly, too.
“Thank you”, she says as she is handed the bottle, but before she can take a sip from it she has to scratch that itch, the one that is caused by the mysteriousness of the other woman, “so, what’s your name?”. The woman looks up, with her lips still attached to the bottle, a drop of beer escaping them and threatening to fall of her bottom lip, but she wipes it away and places the bottle in front of her. Never breaking eye contact. “I’d like to know who I owe a drink”, she explains and tries her hardest to sound as convincing as the woman did before.
“You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart. I put it on your tab”. But you never said anything, Laura thinks for herself but is quick to smooth out the frown of thought on her forehead and replies with a smile instead of sharing that thought. The woman laughs and breakers their contention to face forward instead as her hand reaches for the bottle again. “You can call me Carmilla”.
“So it’s not your real name?”.
“It is for now”, Carmilla tells her and takes another sip of her beer. Laura does the same, glad to feel it wash down some of that nervousness that hit her like a brick in the face as Carmilla approached her. “Now tell me. What are you doing here? This isn’t a part of the college experience”.
Carmilla laughs in a way that both makes Laura’s body cringe and sing. Like there’re two sides of her reaction to everything Carmilla do or says - one that tries to convince her to run, the other, determined to stay by the woman’s side until she’s told to go. “That’s dangerous”, Carmilla whispers without meeting Laura’s eyes.
“A little danger doesn’t hurt”. Laura’s lips form a smirk, but it quickly fades as Carmilla eyes her, slowly. Those eyes almost darkens before they find Laura’s again and they pull another answer out of her, “I needed to get away”. When the words has left Laura’s lips she exhales, like as if she’d been holding her breath. “My… ex, she’s…”, her voice dies and she looks away as the pain settles in her stomach.
“Well, in that case you need something stronger than that”, Carmilla replies and whistles once again, this time Belisama shows up empty handed but with only one look from Carmilla she pours them both two shots of what looks suspiciously much like tequila.
Three whisky sour later and Laura finds herself in that corner booth she spotted Carmilla in earlier. She feels a little tipsy, but far from how she wouldn’t mind being. Carmilla however doesn’t even seem affected by the alcohol, and yet she’s gotten through three drinks more than Laura and the double on every round have not left her any less steady. Her eyes are calm and intense when they look straight into Laura’s, watching her quietly while Laura rambles on and on. As per usual when she’s nervous, or drunk. She only shuts up when Carmilla tilts her head to the side and smiles in that wicked way that makes Laura’s stomach flutter. A flash of red cover her cheeks and she looks down to her hands holding that glass.
“Why so quiet, cutie?”.
Laura doesn´t need to look up to know that the smile on Carmilla’s lips has grown.
Maybe it´s the alcohol. Or the fact that she hasn´t been with someone in like forever. That on top of living door to door with the loudest roommates on the floor, or more like campus. Seriously, Laura has no idea what kind of stamina those girls have. Maybe it´s the mix of it all - alcohol, lack of sex, Carmilla, Carmilla´s eyes, Carmilla, Carmilla, Carmilla.
Okay. So maybe she´s attracted to this mysterious woman, who hasn´t stopped looking at her with that predatory look since they shared that first beer. Which happened only two hours ago. And no one, especially not Laura, can feel like this for someone they just met, in a dodgy bar with questionable customers. Yet again, it could be the alcohol. It´s the only logical reason to why that guy who eyed Laura, and then followed her every movement like a second shadow, suddenly disappeared, evaporated, he was swallowed by the shadows that surrounded him and then, poof, he was gone.
So it must be the alcohol.
Which shouldn´t lead to her doing what she does. It makes no sense at all. This isn’t what she does. She isn’t that kind of girl, the kind that says the one thing that cannot be misinterpreted in this situation.
But she does say it.
“Take me somewhere”.
Carmilla doesn’t say anything. At all. She only leans forward and tilts her head, once again, making Laura’s stomach flutter, once again, and penetrates even deeper with those eyes. Laura´s sure she´ve made a mistake. But then Carmilla nods, slowly, and slides out of the booth.
“My place isn’t far from here”, she tells Laura and Laura takes in a sharp intake of air.
Laura follows with ragged motions. Carmilla waits for her and then leads her to the door. When they reach it, Laura can feel a hand steadying her by pushing over the small of her back. The hand is cold, but it sends warmth through Laura’s boiling veins.
This is what Laura doesn’t get; how the frickin chicken shit does she end up pressed up against the wall next to the door, standing in (what Carmilla calls home) loft with Carmilla leaning against the opposite wall. They’re only watching each other. They didn´t say much on the walk, not even Laura. Which isn’t her usual. It might have had something to do with the fact that Carmilla lingered close every step of the walk. A hand grazed Laura´s. Her hair brushed against Laura´s bare shoulder. Fingers pressed gently against the root of her spine to guide her in the right directions.
All of that has left Laura with a fire ravaging all over her skin. That and a thumping heart. She can´t make any sense out of this feeling, the feeling of needing to touch Carmilla, to feel Carmilla, to lose herself in Carmilla.
It´s the only thing on her mind and has been since he laid eyes on her.
Carmilla pushes off her wall with her heel scraping deep into it. Laura watches her every step and her heart picks up as the distance between them shrinks. When Carmilla´s standing right in front of her, when she places her hands on either sides of Laura´s head, trapping her, keeping her in place, Laura loses the last innocent thought to the dark crawling inside her. Carmilla’s eyes are darker than ever, but they won’t hold Laura’s gaze for long, it wanders down, centimeter after centimeter, covering all of what is there for Carmilla to find and Laura is sure that her heart will beat its way out of her chest any second now. When they find their way up to Laura’s eyes again, they are black holes and they are pulling Laura down into them.
“Tell me to stop”, Carmilla whispers and it doesn’t sound like urge, it sounds like she’s begging. “Laura. Tell. Me. To. Stop”.
She can’t comprehend what those words mean. What Carmilla is trying to tell her. She isn’t sure she cares what it means. All she wants is to have her. Or give herself up to her. Anything to get her, for just a moment.
Carmilla lets out a noise that sounds like a growl. A deep, animalistic growl.
“Damn you”, she breathes and before Laura can respond Carmilla’s mouth is hot on hers. An unfamiliar sound rips through Laura’s throat, a blend of a moan and a cry, a mixture of pleasure and pain.
Carmilla’s hands quickly tangle in Laura’s hair, scraping at her scalp, sending an avalanche of warmth down Laura’s body until it finds its place between her thighs and settles there. And it hurts. Everywhere. Especially when Carmilla´s tongue parts her lips and licks into her, dragging another one of those sounds from her throat. Laura´s hands clutch desperately to Carmilla´s waist, pulling her close and tight. But Carmilla reaches down with her right hand and guides Laura´s to her ass. When Laura complies, Carmilla´s the one to moan, only to push harder and deeper.
Carmilla quickly grows impatient and tugs at Laura´s clothes. The first one to go is Laura´s shirt, followed by her pants and then she´s close to bare in front of the woman who looks at her like she’s her next meal. And in a normal state of mind that would scare the heck out of Laura, but now, here, in the hands of danger itself, she wants nothing more than to feel all that Carmilla allows her to feel. The brunette is paper in Carmilla’s hands, easily picked up and thrown around. Carmilla carries her, mouth still pressed tightly to Laura´s, to the bed and locks her down there with her hands and knees.
Laura is trapped under her for what might as well be an eternity, tortured by Carmilla’s mouth bruising her own, with the building feeling of need stretching out from her center and out through her whole body. When Carmilla’s mouth travels down Laura´s neck, leaving marks of both lips and teeth, Laura´s ready to plead and beg. And, like she could read her thoughts, Carmilla detaches from the crook of Laura’s neck and sits straight up, still straddling Laura´s hips.
“Do you want me to stop?”.
Laura can barely think, certainly not speak. So she answers the only way she knows how - she pulls one of her hands free from the suddenly lose grip of Carmilla’s hand and cups the other girl’s neck to pull her down, and she kisses her with all the force of nature. She catches the gasp from Carmilla between her lips and swallows it, biting down hard on her bottom lip. She´s awarded with the vibrations made by a ragged moan, and it´s too much for her, she can´t hold the other girl down when she leans back again. Before her eyes, Carmilla rips of the corset. She’s bare underneath and Laura´s heart stops at the view. When Carmilla reaches down to undo her own pants, her eyes catches Laura´s and a wicked smile fills her lips.
“Like what you see, buttercup?”, she asks and makes a show out of running her hands over her own chest, gasping when she rolls her nipples between her fingers.
Carmilla laughs as she removes herself from the bed and pulls off the pants together with her lacy underwear. When she lowers herself down on top of Laura again, with one hand reaching down to the waistband of her underwear she whispers low and hot in Laura’s ear, “there´s no god here, cutie”.
Laura throws her head back as Carmilla presses open mouth kisses to her jaw and down her neck, teeth brushing against the sensitive skin over her pulse point. She’s sure that if Carmilla doesn’t touch her the way Laura desperately needs her to, she´s going to die. That would be something, wouldn’t it.
Somehow she manages to lift herself up from the mattress to help Carmilla as she hooks her fingers around the waistband of her underwear. When Carmilla pulls them off of Laura´s legs, Laura´s sure she can hear her hiss, but before she can think that much about it Carmilla’s mouth is back on hers and her tongue pushes through Laura’s lips. Laura’s nails digs into Carmilla’s shoulders, leaving half moon marks in asymmetrical patterns.
Without understanding how or really when Carmilla flips them over and pulls Laura over her hips, holding her there as she sits up with one hand on her waist and the other around her back. Laura can feel the heat of her own sex meeting Carmilla´s skin and for a moment there´s enough friction to make her shudder against Carmilla’s body. The other girl presses small kisses along Laura´s jaw, but apart from that she doesn’t move, as if she’s waiting for something.
Waiting for Laura to to what Carmilla has been begging her to do since they entered her apartment.
But Laura can’t give her that.
She’s already lost.
Laura wets her lips and takes a deep breath. “Carmilla”.
Laura´s finger tangle in Carmilla’s curls, holding her face tighter to her chest as Carmilla presses another kiss to her collarbone. “Touch me”, she tells her and Carmilla growls against her skin.
And Carmilla does.
Laura gasps for air and chokes on it at the same time when a hand presses flat against her center. And it hurts to get a little bit of friction, but far from enough. Then, two fingers are inside of her and pulling out the most hysterical sounds from her throat. Laura clings to Carmilla’s shoulders like her life depends on it. With every movement of her fingers Carmilla moves a fraction of an inch with her mouth over Laura’s neck, still one hand around Laura’s back to hold her steady. Laura is embarrassingly close to falling of the edge and the steady rhythm of Carmilla’s fingers and mouth sending another set of vibrations down Laura’s body are keeping her balancing on that edge.
Laura can hear Carmilla’s breathing and feel it over her skin. Then Carmilla presses her palm against her, harder, and her fingers sinks deeper and Laura can feel herself rumble over that edge.
That’s the last thing she picks up before something sharp penetrates the skin of her neck and she falls hard and fast down the edge. And everything goes black.
The morning light comes too early and it forces her out of her sleep. Her head pounds and her whole body feels numb. She grunts and tilts her head to the other side, away from the light, but a sharp pain down her neck makes her shift back. She gives up and rolls over to the side, throws her legs over the side of the bed and places her feet on the cold floor. It´s only when she opens her eyes that she recognizes the chair placed to the side of the bed, the one on which her clothes hang. She then looks down on the bed to find her yellow pillow.
“What the-”, she doesn’t finish the sentence as she looks around the rest of the room. Her room. Her dorm. “How-”. She doesn’t remember going home after the events of last night. She doesn’t remember anything after…
Her eyes open wide with terror.
She practically jumps out of the bed and rushes over to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror over the sink looks normal. But she can´t unfeel that pain. So her fingers shake a little when she pulls her hair to the other side and reveals her neck, and the two puncture wounds right over her pulse point.
“Crap”, she mumbles as she touches lightly over the wounds. It doesn’t hurt when she touches it and, despite the fact that she just got bitten, it doesn’t scare her. It fascinates her. Not even in the journalistic way she usually fall for. The memory of the feeling she felt in that first kiss. When Carmilla kissed her.
And she understands, on some level, that she shouldn’t feel like this, she shouldn’t want to know more.
But she does.
She walks up to the bar at the break of day. The sun has barely disappeared under the horizon when she turns the corner and the bright neon lights fills her eyes. She can see two people standing at the door, that still reads closed. She doesn’t need to think twice about who one of them are - she would recognize those leather pants anywhere.
Carmilla frowns as she lays eyes on Laura and pushes off the wall to meet her. “Cutie”, she says and stops with a few more inches between them than Laura thinks is necessary. “You’re back”.
“I-”, Laura begins but then the other person still standing in the shadows steps forward with a grin smeared across her face.
“Is this your newest little toy sis?”, the other woman asks and Laura catches Carmilla’s roll her eyes. The woman eyes Laura with an unsettling feeling hitting Laura in the stomach. “She’s cute”.
Carmilla says no more, no less. And the woman laughs a little as she turns to the door to the bar and enters it. Carmilla´s shoulders slump down when they are left alone. Laura didn’t even notice that she was so tense.
Laura laughs a little. “I’m not sure why I’m here”.
“I am”, Carmilla replies. She doesn´t even sound smuged.
“Really?”, Laura asks doubtingly.
“Everything about me tells you to be here”, Carmilla explains and then she laughs, too. “But, believe me I’m as surprised to see you as you are to see me. Most girls doesn´t even remember me in the morning”.
Laura bites her lip at that. She isn’t sure if she should admit what she´s this close to admitting. But she knows, that if she doesn´t, she won´t get what she came back here for. So she lets out that last breath.
“I do remember”.
Carmilla eyes her. Maybe Laura should confirm what Carmilla´s obviously thinking. But her steady and unbreakable gaze has to be enough to answer that unspoken question written in Carmilla’s eyes. Laura watches it sink in, in Carmilla. Like she slowly realizes that there´s a reason for Laura being here.
“Okay. That’s new”, Carmilla says. Then she takes a short step towards Laura. Testing the limits of her conviction. “What do you want?”.
“I want it all”, Laura answers without needing to think it over.
“But not if it´s going to be like last night. I want it to last longer”.
Carmilla’s lips form a wicked smirk at that, as she finally understands what Laura´s saying. Carmilla then takes the needed steps to be able to stand chest to chest with Laura, eyes looking straight into Laura´s.
“I promise. I can make it last forever”, she whispers and Laura mirrors her smile as she nods, saying yes to the offer Carmilla gives her.
They seal the promise with a kiss.
And everything goes black in Laura’s eyes, before it all turns hundred times brighter.