#cheapest motel near me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamswithghosts · 1 year

Text

Bad Batch x One Bed Trope

Prompt: You and the Bad Batch were on a mission and things went differently than planned. You and [Insert Desired Clone] got separated from the rest of the batch. You were told that they had escaped off-world and would return in one rotation to come and get you two. So you two find a motel to camp up in. Tired from the mission you accept the first room that was available and the cheapest. You two go to the room only to discover that there is only one bed. How will this pan out with the two of you have been pining for each other but not realizing it?

Notes: This is Gender Neutral friendly!

Hunter

Both of you just stand by the door shocked for a moment, taking in the room.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want." Hunter offered first, throwing his bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed.

You instantly shake your head not wanting the higher-ranking sergeant to be sleeping on the floor, "No, I can't let you do that. I can sleep on the floor."

"Don't worry about me, I've slept in worse places." Hunter was not budging.

You had to come up with a compromise realizing he was going to be stubborn about this. You quickly realize that no matter what, you will be sleeping on the bed.

But what if it wasn't just you in the bed?

"Well, the bed is quite big. What if we both sleep in the bed?"

Hunter looks genuinely surprised, but reluctantly agrees that was probably the best solution.

Both of you get ready to go to sleep crawling into bed and keeping a respectful distance between the two of you.

When the lights go out, your anxieties from today's mission start to grow in your mind.

It doesn't take Hunter long to realize you are nowhere near falling to falling asleep.

"What's wrong?" His voice is quiet as if he had found you after one of your nightmares and the two of you were trying to keep quiet to not wake the others.

"Do you think the others are okay?"

"They should be fine."

The two of you talk quietly to each other about the mission and what is to come next. Quietly talking into the late hours of the night about anything and everything.

His voice slowly calms your nerves and you start finding yourself relaxing.

After a moment, Hunter spoke softly again, “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

Hunter reached out into the darkness for you without any more words and quietly pulled you closer to him.

You were surprised at first, but you trust him enough to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to his body.

“I’ve wanted to do this since we first met you.” He buried his nose into the nape of your neck, his arms wrapped around your torso as your legs tangled with his.

You smile into the night, finding his hands and entwining his fingers with yours. You pressed yourself back up against him, “Me too.”

You were quick to fall asleep in his arms, Hunter falling asleep just as fast, holding onto you.

Wrecker

"Oh, this could be fun!"

You are stunned by Wrecker's excitement that there is only one bed in this room, "What?"

"This can be like one of those sleepovers you told me about! We could stay up late and eat snacks and watch movies!"

He somehow made you laugh and feel a bit better about the whole experience. He was moving around the room excitedly putting all the gear away.

"I'll go get some snacks! You stay here and start picking out a movie."

"Be careful, please. They might still be out looking for us." You voiced your concern, considering you two just got finished with a mission.

He just gave you a dazzling smile, telling you he would be fine.

You got ready for bed, staying to one side respectfully looking through the movies to watch.

Wrecker returned quickly, his arms full of all kinds of different foods.

He practically jumped on the bed, the frame groaning from his weight making you laugh.

"What do you want to watch?" You asked him as he settled himself in the bed, laying out all of the snacks he managed to get.

"Something fun."

You nodded, eventually picking out a movie for the two of you to watch and grabbing from Wrecker's food pile to snack on your own.

Not long into the movie, you felt Wrecker's strong hands on your hips, pulling you into his lap.

You weren't surprised at the physical affection, Wrecker being the one to show that type of affection the most.

You relaxed into his lap, your head resting back on his shoulder.

His warmth quickly pulled you to sleep, with Wrecker turning the movie off and wrapping his arms around you, and falling asleep with you.

Tech

You were stunned when you saw only one bed in the room.

Tech took a moment looking between the bed and his holo pad.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting this.” He stated, moving to put down everything the two of you had.

“Do you think one of us should sleep on the floor?”

Tech paused what he was doing looking at the bed, “I don’t think that is necessary. The bed is plenty big for the both of us to have our own respective space.”

You were honestly surprised he was so calm about the entire thing, watching him go back to putting away and organizing your and his things.

"You don't have a problem with sleeping in the same bed with me?"

"Why would I?"

You had no more words for him and decided that this was okay. So you got ready for bed, settling yourself in with your own holo pad.

Tech joined you not long, the both of you staying in silence with your own devices.

"Hey look at this," Tech said after a moment, leaning over to show you what was on his device.

You found yourself smiling and scooting closer to Tech in the bed, "That actually reminds me of something."

You show him something on your holo pad and before you know it the two of you are quietly sharing information with each other.

Throughout the conversation of showing each other things from your devices, you realized the two of you got close enough in bed where his shoulder was pressed up to yours.

Deciding to make a small leap of faith, you laid your head on his shoulder. Tech was unphased, still currently showing you what had interested him on his holo pad.

You don't know when, but you fell asleep like this, with your head on his shoulder.

You woke up hours later to discover that Tech had fallen asleep as well. His arms wrapped around you with his cheek resting on top of your head.

His holo pad was squished between the two of you.

You smile feeling completely warm and comfortable, minus the hard device digging into your skin.

You carefully pull it out from between the two of you, laying his holo pad on the bed next to your own.

You happily cuddled up closer to Tech, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your cheek against his chest.

Echo

Both of you pause for a moment, staring at the room with only one bed.

"I guess we can both sleep in it or would you rather I sleep on the floor?" Echo spoke after a while, "I don't mind. I've slept in worse places."

You shook your head instantly saying no to Echo sleeping on the floor. He had already been through so much, the idea of him sleeping on the cold hard floor did not sit well with you.

"We can sleep together. The bed is big enough." You offered.

"Are you sure?" Your comfort was obviously the main concern for you.

"Yeah. I'm fine." You assured him.

The two of you settle into the bed, keeping a respectful distance between the two of you.

Echo ends up finding the holo drama the two of you have been watching when you got some downtime. The two of you decide to watch at least one episode.

“Oh come on. This is a classic trope. Watch, because she’s now in the hospital, he is suddenly going to tell her his feelings about her.”

“Actually I think he’s going to try to tell her, but then feel guilty because she’s hurt. So he decides against telling her. Especially if there are family members in the room.”

You ended up being right, the both of you softly laughing over the whole thing.

You started to feel cold, wrapping the blanket around you and starting to shiver, and Echo noticed.

“Are you cold?” He sounds concerned. You shake your head no, but then your body betrays you and starts to shiver.

Echo reaches over, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, and pulling you to him. His legs are surprisingly warm, the machinery of his legs under covers staying warm compared to when you’ve felt them out on a mission and they were cold.

“You’re like a heater.” You muttered instantly curling up against him seeking out his warmth.

“Yeah. It surprised me too. My guess is when I’m covered, the airflow seems to get circulated less thus heat. Almost like if you leave a computer on while running a program that's intensive on the CPU.”

“I guess that makes sense. Have you ever overheated?”

Echo shook his head no.

The two of you focused back on the holo drama you were watching. Once the first episode was over, Echo asked if you wanted to watch another.

You fell asleep curled up against Echo’s side with your head on his shoulder watching the second episode. Echo was quick to follow suit with his arms wrapped around you.

Crosshair

“Well I guess you are going to be sleeping on the floor,” Crosshair teased the second he saw that there was only one bed in the room.

“What? No! You are the one who’s going to sleep on the floor.”

“No, I’m going to be sleeping in the bed.”

“No, I’m going to be sleeping in the bed!”

“Well, I guess we will have to sleep together then,” Crosshair smirked, putting his things away first and then moving to help you, by just taking your things.

“Fine.” You huffed already tired from the mission today. You would rather have fewer arguments, “Just don’t get handsy with me. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Been around more than you have.”

“Oh, and that makes you a better person?”

Crosshair just snorts in response. He starts getting ready for bed and you decide to follow his lead.

The two of you get into the bed, keeping a fair distance between each other.

“Well, goodnight then.” you sigh and turn off the lights, settling yourself in under the covers. You just hear a small grunt from Crosshair.

It takes you a little to fall asleep, but you eventually do. It was a lot faster than normal considering the fact you had another person in the bed with you.

In the middle of the night, you wake up feeling a lot warmer. Actually, you feel really warm.

Throughout the night, Crosshair had inched his way over to you, resting his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your torso. He held onto you like you were a lifeline in his sleep.

You found yourself smiling and slowly wrapping your arms around him as well, feeling very comfortable with him here like this with you. You quickly fall back asleep, hugging him to your chest.

If you are interested in joining a pinglist for my writings, feel free to let me know!

1K notes · View notes

ofsappho · 8 months

Text

Summertime Sadness (part 3)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Today: Ghost brings you a pack of cigarettes Ten years ago: You introduce yourself to Simon

Tags under read more

Tags: mental illness, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, self harm, child abuse, parent abandonment, drug addiction/withdrawal, Ghost's tragic backstory. unedited.

TODAY

Ghost POV

On his way out, Ghost asks one of the nurses about bringing you a pack of cigarettes.

The nurse’s forehead wrinkles with a frown. “Only if they’re sealed and unopened. Opened boxes, bottles, or containers of any kind are prohibited,” She says slowly, like he’s a fucking idiot.

“Why?”

She tilts her head to the side to look at him from a different angle. “It’s a safety risk. People will try to smuggle in substances or weapons. We’ve seen it all.” Ghost is almost offended she thinks he’d do that or at the implication that you would ask him to. You’re not like that. You’re good and kind, you couldn’t even hurt a fly. You always have been.

But he doesn’t know what you smoke. He doesn’t really know anything about you now.

So Ghost guesses and asks the man at the gas station a couple blocks away for a pack of Marlboro Reds.

That’s what he likes. You’ll have to deal. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Ghost finds his way to some sort of run-down motel near the hospital. In a major metropolitan area like this, he has infinite choices. He picks the cheapest. All he needs is a bed and a shower, and this place has both of those things. Ghost tells himself that it’s only temporary. There’s no need for comfort when he’ll be gone in a week, maybe two at most.

He lays on the bed, listens to the water drip from the leaky bathroom faucet, and tells himself he’ll try again tomorrow.

When Ghost arrives at the front desk the next day, the nurse tells him you’re in the garden, to take the elevator to the second floor and follow the signs. Then the security guards pat him down and check the cigarettes. Even though it felt like walking around naked in front of a thousand people, Ghost had the good sense to leave his knives in the hotel room. They find nothing.

After they clear him, he follows the nurse’s directions.

Ghost finds you contemplating a sad-looking fountain in the middle of a garden on the second floor. The plants are well kept but overly-manicured, as clinical as the rest of this place.

You have company. A nurse sits a few meters away, watching you like a hawk.

Ghost awkwardly sits on the bench across from you with the feeling that he’s somehow intruding, that if he left you alone a little longer, he might come back to a more whole, happier version of you.

“Thought I told you to fuck off,” You say through a face more blank than a fresh sheet of paper. “Cigarettes? For me? You shouldn’t have.” The first sign of life Ghost sees in your eyes is when he tosses you the pack and a lighter.

He doesn’t like being surveilled. Not at all. “What’s with the…” Ghost reaches for his mask out of instinct, carefully checking the edges and making sure they lay flat to cover as much as possible.

Your hands tremble as you light up a cigarette. He has to resist the urge to take the lighter from you and do it himself.

When you sit back to take a drag, Ghost averts his eyes from the bandages peeking out of the sleeves of your hospital gown. “The tail? They’re just making sure I don’t try to kill myself again. It’s annoying as fuck. I wish they’d just leave me alone, but that’s what I get.” Instead, he looks at the long, perfect line of your throat as you blow out smoke.

“What’s with the mask?” Loose ash flies as you gesture towards the balaclava.

“I joined the Air Service,” Ghost mutters. He thought the skull mask would make him feel more together, more in control today. It hasn’t.

For the first time, he sees the faintest hint of a real smile tug at the corners of your lips. “Like you always said you would. I was wondering what had happened to you.”

Your face falls.

“Sorry about your mom, by the way. And your brother. I heard.”

Ah.

“You did?” The last time Ghost was there, he’d wondered about the fresh flowers on their graves.

He thought the bouquets had been left by some Good Samaritan trying to curry favor with a god he didn’t believe in, a god that wasn’t there when his family was murdered.

It’s both better and worse to know it was you.

You grab another cigarette the instant you finish your first. “Yeah I- fuck, this is stupid. I kept tabs to see if you were ever… coming back.” Your chaperone nurse frowns and starts to open her mouth, probably about the chain smoking, but you cut her an impressively-dirty glare and she sits down to mind her business.

Ghost closes his eyes. “That is stupid.” You should have forgotten him. He wanted you to move on, meet someone else, and have the kind of life that would forever be out of reach for him.

“Don’t need to shove it in my face. I have a therapist for that. Multiple, actually.”

“Fat load of good they’ve done you.”

He watches your face close off. “It’d be less painful for everyone if they would just let me die, but I guess that goes against some sort of law,” You tell him with the kind of distant smile that shows you’re half-joking, half-serious.

“For what it’s worth, Ghost, I wish I had died this time. I never meant to drag you back into my shit. I’m sorry.”

This time?

How many times have there been?

Ghost isn’t sure he wants to know.

Because if he knows, he’s going to give a fuck. You make it impossible for him to not care. This is exactly why he pushed you away in the first place.

“You’re sorry for not dying?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You’re cold and resolved and completely serious.

Some of the smoke goes up your nose and you cough sharply, your lungs thick with… something. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to come back. Next time, I’ll get it right.” Even the golden sunlight and greenery can’t make you look healthy. A stray gust of wind could knock you over and your hands won’t stop shaking.

You’re hiding it poorly.

“What if I didn’t want you to die?” The truth is that Ghost can’t imagine a world without you. You’re the one that belongs here, not him.

You turn to look at him.

Your eyes are clear and your hands steady with rage put the cigarette out on the bench next to you.

“I’d tell you that you, of all people, should fucking understand. This is the end of the road for me. You know what it’s like.”

You’re really asking Ghost if he remembers the very first time you spoke to each other. The tree. The black eye from one of the other, meaner kids darkening on his face. He’d won that fight, but it didn’t feel like it. More than anything, he’d felt like his father’s son and how afraid he was that that was all he’d ever be.

He should go. There’s no reason for him to sit here and take this, to listen to your fucking insane, psychotic, suicidal rambles. Bullshit. You’re talking nothing but bullshit.

“And then you’d feel like a selfish asshole for asking me to live.”

As Ghost gets up to leave, you keep talking.

“You were right from the beginning, Simon. You’ve always been right. I’m a danger to myself. My mother never came back. The things people have done to me, and I just let them-“ Tears crush your voice into a sound like shattered glass fragments, as weak as it is sharp.

He stops in his tracks.

“And I deserved it. I was never destined for more. Not like you. You’ve done so well for yourself. I’m proud of you,” You say, unknowingly echoing one of the last things Simon’s mother ever said.

Ghost has taken bullets less painful. Water boarding sounds like a fucking picnic right about now.

He can’t even convince himself that you’re lying out of spite. You mean every word. After everything he’s done to the people who loved him, you’re still proud of him.

“Thank you for being honest with me about myself. I appreciated it.” Your smile is lovely, transforming you into a carefree young girl for a moment. Ghost might be able to appreciate the sight more if not for the calm, resigned way you talk about death.

He’s old friends with Death. He wields it like he was born to do so, he knows how it smells and looks. He knows what someone looks like right before they give up and bleed out in a Middle-Eastern desert or succumb to hypothermia in the Siberian tundra.

Ghost can see the rot under your skin. You’re covered in it.

Some part of him hates you for not going quietly or disappearing into thin air.

He doesn’t want you to die. “I was wrong.”

“Look at you. Still the hero, the good guy.”

“No, listen to me-“

“It’s alright, Simon. Really. No more lies.”

“It’s the truth. Fuck. Fuck. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Ghost remembers the good things, too. It was easier to forget about them, to paint the whole of his life in shades of tar black and set fire to the remaining pieces of light. It was holding him back. You were holding him back.

What feels like a lifetime ago, he pointed out constellations to you in the middle of the night and your eyes filled with awe.

“Didn’t you?” You ask with wisps of pity in your voice.

10 YEARS AGO

Reader POV

You find your soon-to-be new friend hiding in a tree, lazily smoking a cigarette as his legs dangle over a branch. “Hi,” You call out.

He whips his head around and fixes you with a glare so strong that you have to stifle a small, instinctive ‘eep’ noise. The rather-impressive black eye does nothing to take away from how… pretty he is.

You clasp your hands behind your back so he can’t see you fiddle with your nail beds and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Fuck d’you want?” He barks in a rough, accented voice. The syllables slur together; maybe he talks like that all the time, or maybe his swollen split lip is getting in the way.

Shit. You rock again and dig your nails into your palms to try and steady yourself. “Nothing. I- nothing.” It’s fine. You’re fine. He’s just a boy. An older boy who fucked up another guy in the program and ran out of the building before the nurses could stop him, all angry fists and damnably kind eyes.

“Go away.” His scowl deepens when you straighten up and dig your heels into the dirt.

You pull out the napkins you stuffed in the pocket of your jeans before you went looking for him. “Here. For your nose.” It’s bleeding pretty bad, running over his white teeth and everything. “You got him good.”

After a long moment of contemplation wherein he tries to incinerate you with the power of his frown and fails, he reluctantly takes the tissues. “You saw?” He grumbles.

Yeah, you saw. Who could miss it? He tackled the other boy during one of the mandatory group therapy sessions. It was creative writing today, which you normally enjoy. Instead, everyone watched as the two of them beat the shit out of each other until the security guards bodily separated them.

The words tumble from your mouth in a rush. “James deserved it. He’s a fucking asshole. He tries to look down my shirt all the time, and he broke all of the nice pencils my dad brought me so now I have to use the shitty ones the nurses provide because I wouldn’t keep my mouth shut. One time he… touched me, you know? Over my clothes. But still. Wow. You were like… a superhero,” You finish quickly, blushing a little from embarrassment.

Everyone says you talk too much. He probably doesn’t care about your stuff. You shouldn’t have said anything.

He raises a blonde eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You’re, like, really cool,” You say with a nod.

The boy’s grimace holds fast. “Hmph.” It could be a trick of the light, but his sharp, almond-shaped eyes look slightly less cruel, more of a gentle honey brown than a shadow black.

A silvery scar shines on his jaw as he turns away to work on another cigarette.

The acrid smoke is horrible for your lungs and he shouldn’t pick up such a bad habit. But you’ll save the lecture for another day when he’s less mad. And when you actually know his name.

You offer up your own first. “What’s your name?” You finally ask.

“Simon. M’ name is Simon.” Simon looks at you for a long, quiet moment, with no sounds other than the wind rustling the leaves hiding the two of you from the sun.

He sees you. Not just the model patient or dutiful daughter you are to everyone else. A thrill runs down your spine, enough to make you ignore how his eyes run over your smile - like he’s examining a pinned butterfly in a glass case.

“I’ll remember that.” When you stretch your hand out, Simon shakes it.

Tagging:

@devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner @johfaam0

@babygirl-panda19 @illyanam1011 @q8852p @loser-alert @vantae-tea @alexisv15 @chessecakelover @allaboutirem0 @darling006 @aloraaaxcrystalzx @berryjuicyy @desideriumlove

189 notes · View notes

yandere-collections · 1 year

Note

Hi yes hello there, you have officially rotted my brain my guy. I just can't get the yandere small town out of my head, top teir stuff. So I had this thought, I don't know if this is something you do but, imagine with me. A serial killer darling. Like the reader just moved into this small town because they recently got a little slopy and need to lay low for a while. My question is how exactly do you think the towns people would respond? Do you think they'd fully throw themselves at the readers feet, begging, praying to be killed by them. Or do you think they'd be a bit more subtle? Cops off handedly mentioning gaps in patrols that would make a perfect time to strike, the diner siblings showing off a new knife set they got from out of town, someone who's been trying to take you away suddenly perfectly lining up with the kind of people you kill.

Sorry this so long, but believe it or not this is the short version (the brain rot my guy, what have you done to me XD) you don't have to respond to this if you don't want to, I just needed some of this out of my head

This is absolutely wonderful, thank you for sending it in! <3

The first people to find out you were on a most wanted list (in more ways than one ;)) was the sheriff, which then quickly spread to the rest of the station. An alert was sent out nation wide, showing footage of you taken from a cctv near one of your killings, followed by a composite sketch from two different witnesses. It didn't look exactly like you yet they recognized it instantly as the person who moved into town two weeks ago with only a duffel bag at your side. You hadn't known what to do, knowing it was only a matter of time before you were caught. You didn't have a plan when you fled, basically choosing a direction based on the cheapest bus ticket to a tiny city. On the way, you found the path to an even smaller town, isolated and out of the way. It didn't take long for the town to fall in love. They ignored your red flags like how you didn't talk about where you came from or how you kept buying rope and duct tape. In fact those items seemed to be on sale more often than they weren't.

The next town meeting was a long one, with everyone debating what to do, how best to keep you in town and protect you from the outside world. They also discuss how best to keep you "entertained". They end up selecting two primary categories of victims for you, willing sacrifices and heretics. They also agree they have to be subtle about their knowledge of your "hobby". They can't have you suspecting anything. So you may casually over hear the mayor talk about worried they were about someone living by themselves in the wilderness, how no one would notice if something happened to them (if you go after them, you'll find some houses locked from the outside, some not locked at all). The librarian orders books about forensic science and untraceable poisons for you to check out. The grocery store clerk tells you about the federal agent who came into town yesterday, looking for some serial killer, casually mentioning his motel room number and how the place didn't really have the best security since almost anyone could grab a copy of the keys from behind the desk.

You can kill almost anyone you please in town, the only exception being a few citizens protection like the mayor and church disciples who haven't been chosen as a sacrifice. All criminal matters are handled locally. You still have to be careful when committing crimes since the police will use that as an excuse to lock you up for a few days where only they can see you. Don't worry, you'll be pardoned by the mayor in a few days

basically this energy between the townsfolk and outsiders:

youtube

#yandere town #serial killer reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #multiple yanderes #my writing #yandere imagines #gender neutral reader

106 notes · View notes

adamvisa · 1 year

Text

Online booking services recommended for the most affordable local hotels and motels.

Using an internet booking site, you may locate the hotels and motels in your region that provide the lowest rates. Checking through the millions of internet reviews might wind up saving you both time and money. Using a website to book a hotel is a regular habit for most of us on vacation today. Cheapest hotel motels near me websites are of the highest significance for reserving rooms, and the number of people utilizing them each month to find the best hotels is rapidly rising.

The Best Booking Sites

#Travel #globalentry #internationaltravel #destinations #familytravel #Costcotravel #googletrips #travelblog #travelbloggers #travelblogging #travellife #travelblogaustralia #travel #costcotravel

1 note · View note

stokholmjacobson7 · 2 years

Text

The Very Best Hotel To Stay At On A Budget

You may want to go on a vacation, or visit the most effective cities on the earth. It doesn't matter what your motive is, you may need somewhere to stay once you get there. If you're in search of some concepts, listed here are some three cheap motels that may easily cater to your wants!

What is Otels.online To remain At On A budget?

One good way to save money while on trip is to discover a lodge that offers discounted charges. There are many nice options for price range-conscious tourists, so read on for a few of the best resort deals around. If you want to stay in a preferred vacationer destination, like Vegas or Orlando, staying at a branded resort might be costly. But there are many affordable lodging decisions available too. For example, consider staying in a hostel or guesthouse. These locations will be fairly inexpensive and supply good value for your cash. Another option is to remain in a city centre. Not solely will you be nearer to the action, but you may additionally possible discover decrease room rates than at resorts or hostels. And if you're travelling with associates, splitting the price of an house can work out cheaper than renting multiple rooms in a lodge together. Whatever your budget could also be, there's certain to be an incredible deal obtainable for travellers in search of inexpensive accommodation. So take a while to browse through the different options and find the right spot for your next trip!

Who is this weblog for?

The blog is for people who find themselves on the lookout for an ideal deal on a hotel stay. Whether you're touring for business or pleasure, this blog is certain to have something that fits your wants. The very best resort to stay at on a budget may be onerous to seek out, but this weblog is right here to assist! We scoured the internet and found some of the very best offers on inns round. Whether you're in search of a finances-friendly possibility close to town or an escape far away, we've obtained you coated. So whether you're traveling for business or pleasure, try our weblog and get an awesome deal on your subsequent lodge stay!

Why Should I Stay at a Hotel on a budget?

If you're on a budget, and on the lookout for a spot to stay whereas you are in town, consider staying at a hotel on the cheap. In this article, we'll outline why you should consider booking a room at a lodge that expenses less than other lodgings in the area. There are plenty of causes to choose a lodge on the cheap when visiting a new metropolis. For one, you possibly can often get more bang to your buck by staying at a decrease-cost option than renting an residence or staying with friends. Additionally, most of the cheaper resorts supply great worth for their location, amenities, and price level. To help you resolve which resort is best for you, here are five components to bear in mind: Location When on the lookout for a hotel, certainly one of the first issues to consider is its location. When searching for lodges in various cities around the world, typically occasions you will discover that some are situated in prime areas and others are situated in less fascinating areas. While proximity to common attractions may not be as essential when staying at a budget-friendly possibility like an Airbnb rental or buddy's place, it is something to remember if you want to remain close to main transportation hubs

How to search out the cheapest Hotel Near Me

One of the best ways to seek out the most cost effective lodge near you is to use the web. Seek for web sites that offer discounts for resort reservations. You can also look for on-line travel agencies that specialize to find the cheapest charges for hotels. When trying to find a specific type of lodge, comparable to a price range lodge or a hostel, use engines like google that listing only these varieties of hotels.

Booking Process

If you're on a funds, consider trying out one in all the most cost effective resorts in city. Granted, these locations is probably not as much as par with a few of the pricier choices, but they'll get the job accomplished. Listed below are four great choices for staying on the cheap: 1. The quality Inn - This resort is positioned just minutes from downtown and has a mean value of around $50 per night. Plus, it gives various amenities (like a pool) that could make your stay extra comfy. 2. The Red Roof Inn - This chain offers price range-pleasant rooms which can be usually around $forty per night. Plus, a lot of their locations have discounted rates throughout off-peak periods. 3. Super eight - This chain is understood for its low prices, with an average price of about $30 per night. It's also a good option when you plan on spending most of your time exterior of the resort room. 4. Days Inn & Suites - This chain is one other good option if you are searching for fairly priced rooms that are near city. With a mean price of about $50 per night time, it is a great value to your cash.

Alternatives

If you end up on a funds, probably the greatest things to do is to look for motels that supply deals. There are lots of nice options on the market for those who are looking to stay in a lodge with out spending an excessive amount of cash. Top-of-the-line offers you'll find is by staying at a lodge that gives a promotional code. By using these codes, you may get reductions on your keep that may amount to fairly a bit of money. Listed here are 5 great accommodations that provide promo codes: 1. Marriott International: Marriott offers promo codes on a regular basis, and a few of the present offers include 50% off stays between May 1 and September 30 and 15% off stays throughout October. It's also possible to get free nights if you e book three nights in a row and use the code CHEAPESTFAMILYWARMINGPLACE at verify-in. 2. The Ritz-Carlton: If luxurious is what you are on the lookout for, then The Ritz-Carlton is certainly a hotel to contemplate. They provide promo codes on a regular basis, but a number of the more moderen offers include 25% off stays between May 1 and September 30 and 50% off stays between October 1 and April 30

Conclusion

When in search of an amazing place to remain on the cheap, it's necessary to consider what you're after. Some components you'll need to take into account embrace location, worth range, and amenities. After studying this text, hopefully you may have a greater idea of which hotel is best suited on your wants. Which one would you wish to e book?

#Otels.online

1 note · View note

little-miss-buffy · 2 years

Text

And Don't Call Me Love

Starter for @tofeelthecold

After checking into the cheapest motel she could find, Buffy found herself at a bar called Rouseau's. Giles told her it was probably best that her first night on patrol be somewhere public rather than ngerous it was rumored to be, Buffy wasn't letting anyone she cared about or any of the new slayers near it. So, she went herself, leaving Kennedy and Giles in charge.

After checking into the cheapest motel she could find, Buffy found herself at a bar called Rouseau's. She was told that vampires and witches were very open about who and what they were, so she was better off starting somewhere in town. Right now, she was nursing a drink, staring at the reflection of the couple sitting behind her in the mirror behind the bar and nursing a drink. She was sure the guy was a vampire. She was just waiting for them to leave. As if they could read her mind, they stood up and left the bar. Buffy waited for a moment, threw her drink back, told the bartender she'd be back, and then went outside. She heard the woman crying, begging for her life in the alley next to the bar. Vampires were so predictable. As expected, the vampire already had the poor up against the wall and feeding from her while she struggled to get away.

"I know it's none of my business," Buffy said, approaching the couple. "But, I'm pretty sure she's not interested. You're coming off kind of clingy." The vampire growled and turned towards her. "I'll get to you in a minute, sweetheart," he sneered. He went back to feeding on the woman. Buffy quickly walked towards the couple, grabbed the vampire by the shoulders, and threw him in the opposite direction. He bounced off the wall and hit the ground hard. "A slayer?" he groaned in pain. "But, there hasn't been a slayer in New Orleans for a century."

"Yeah, we noticed," Buffy said, approaching the vampire. "But, things change. Learn to adapt." The vampire stood up and charged at her. She already had her stake ready and sucker-punched, well sucker-staked, the vampire. "Or just come at me like a freight train, that always works," she said. The vampire exploded into dust and Buffy immediately ran over to the woman. "Are you alright?" she asked. "H-his face.....and he bit me," the woman was in shock. "Bath salts," Buffy lied. "People still do it."

Buffy walked to the woman to the curb, went back inside the bar, grabbed some napkins, and then ran back outside to the woman, who was calling an uber. Buffy looked at the wound. "It doesn't look too bad," she said, holding the napkins to the woman's neck. "But, you should still get it checked out." The uber arrived quicker than expected. "Thank you so much," the woman said, hugging the slayer. Buffy smiled and hugged her back and then helped her into the car and then watched it disappear.

As she went back inside, Buffy couldn't help feeling like she was being watched. It was a familiar yet uncomfortable feeling. Instead of trying to figure out who it was, Buffy decided to ignore it and sat back down in her seat and ordered another drink. The night was far from over.

#tofeelthecold #Buffy the vampire slayer #the originals #crossover rp #buffy summers #klaus mikaelson #v: and don't call me love

16 notes · View notes

angelkurenai · 4 years

Text

Imagine Dean trying to find you a fake case which will give him the chance to spend more time with you, given how you’ve just gotten together, but Sam not having any of it. The result being Sam finding out about you two in a funny and unpredictable way.

“... So all I'm saying is that if we just headed over there to look into it and it turns out to be nothing, hey time for vacation!” Dean shrugged with a smirk that looked far from casual and you could hardly hold back a laugh “So what do you say?”

But once his speech was over – and admittedly it was a lengthy one weighing on the benefits of taking a supposed case that looked like your thing in Lad Vegas – silence followed, setting in the room for good. His brother, who was really the only one he was talking to and honestly trying to convince over a stupid issue, didn't say a word himself; instead kept his eyes glued on the computer in front of him no wonder looking for some actual case.

You couldn't blame the younger Winchester given how Dean had been only, miraculously, finding cases that seemed to be in a big city or near one which had plenty of sights and, frankly, some of the best bars, or festivals and hotels. He just wanted vacation – even though you've just gotten back from a break – and Sam wanted to get back to actual work. He didn't understand why Dean insisted on it so much, how could you even tell him that you were together and he was clingy as hell and wanted to spoil you anyway (?), but he didn't seem to care anymore either.

After the tenth time of Dean suggesting a place like Vegas – which he was now bringing up and making it more obvious than ever – Sam had stopped listening to him altogether. It was obvious Dean wasn't willing to do actual work anymore. Sometimes going as far as to ignore he existed in the room until Dean came up with what could really be a case for you... which in the end only turned out to be taken by some other hunter. And so far that had only happened twice.

“He's not going to say a thing. You know how he gets when he's too focused on research and, frankly, between you and I, dear-” you paused to glance at Sam clearly absorbed in whatever he was reading “I'd say he doesn't give a damn. Maybe even has found a way to stop listening to you? A spell probably that makes your voice inaudible to him. Oh how lucky he must be if that's the ca-” you stopped when Dean shot you a look and you shrugged raising your arms in surrender “Alright, alright just kidding. I adore you, I adore you.”

“Hey.” Dean said in a warning tone, eyes almost wide.

He glanced at his brother who was very much in the room yet very much out on a spiritual level which you kind of envied. Because no matter how much you loved your boyfriend, there was only so much you could hear him talk in a day and mind you, you were barely paying attention to half of the things he said in favor of taking the case in Vegas. It wasn't a case, not even close to your kind of thing, and so every reason was either a reason for laughter or eye-rolls. And there was only so much you could take of all that on your own. And in the end, it was obvious, there was no reason for Dean to be worried in the least bit about Sam hearing you and finding about your relationship this way.

“Again not listening to you Dean, very wise choice, if you ask me.” you shook your head, eyes falling back on your phone but only for a second before you looked up again “Hey!” you suddenly said and Dean looked at you in interest, probably hoping for a choice that could give you a way to spend time together “Maybe he's got earplugs. I should try that too sometime, especially if you keep this up, I'm certainly gonna-”

“(Y/n)” he groaned, rolling his eyes, his shoulders falling in disappointment.

“I mean, honey, let's be frank here: you're way beyond yourself these days. Maybe if we did some actual work and then went to some bar, things would be better. It doesn't have to be in Vegas! And I'm fine with something less than a five star restaurant and hotel. Cause in case you have forgotten this, as a hunter I am used to motels and small bars and towns. I mean up until a month ago, that's where we were. Just because I'm your gir-” you paused when his eyes widened, you rolled your and kept going in a lower voice “Just because we are what we are now, doesn't mean I'm any different. I still enjoy even a walk in the park so long as it involves some ice cream and lots of hugs. I still enjoy cuddling even if it is on the floor of the cheapest motel in the world, so long as there are enough pillows and most importantly you. I still enjoy a simple cold beer even if it's in the most small bar so long as you are around. I'm still me, and I never cared about big or expensive things. I only care about us being happy, safe and together. You don't have to go an extra mile on my behalf Dean. You know I just want... well-” you glanced at Sam before whispering to Dean “You”

“I know, I just- you deserve it, that's the thing. Besides spending time together, I thought-” he sighed, almost pouting that very moment; making you find it hard to hold yourself back from jumping up and cradling him in your arms and kissing the living heaven out of him “I wanted to spoil you, give you something good. Treat you right.”

“Aw Dean, that's really sweet a-” but as you started speaking, Dean cut you off and you realized his expression had gone back to blank if not glaring at his brother who had gotten up only to grab a book from the library, walking past Dean as if he wasn't there, and sit back on his chair.

“Yeah, if someone else in here manages to make a connection with reality again.” he grumbled “Sam, are you ever going to even give me an answer?” a pause of silence “Are you even going to listen?” another pause of silence “Pretend that you listen at least?” pause of silence “Pretend that we exist?” pause and, surprisingly, no silence because it was broken by the sound of furious typing on Sam's computer.

“Well, he's super focused now. I don't think there's any getting him out of it, it seems.” you murmured.

“Sam?” Dean insisted “I'm just gonna take (Y/n) and go to Vegas without you if you keep this up you know?” pause “Sam?” pause, nothing but typing and Dean shook his head before running a hand down his face “Seriously whoever said having siblings was great, clearly never had one!” he sighed heavily.

“Come on it's not that bad, he's just focused. I get in that vibe as well.”

“Yeah, when you're watching America's ass or whatever you call it.” he huffed, shaking his head “That's different, (Y/n). I mean look at him, it's like he doesn't see us, certainly doesn't hear us. He wouldn't even realize it if we were swarmed in by zombies right now. Do you think that if I stabbed him right he'd even feel it?”

“Come on, Dean.” you giggled.

“What? He's a Winchester, he'll come back to life.” he shrugged “I swear, Cain was lying. This, this is exactly what Abel was doing to him. Ain't blaming that guy.”

“You say that to sound tough, but you love your family. You wouldn't even dare hurt a hair of Sammy's wonderful hair. Despite all the cock-blocking he's been doing lately.”

“Is that supposed to help him right now or what? Seriously, I'm trying hard not to do this but I can't even seem to find a reason to not stab him right now. Just to get a reaction.”

“I'm starting to think meddling with his hair would have more of an effect but-” you shrugged “I'm sure there is something.”

“No, really none. Honey you gotta give me some sort of motivation to not stab him right now.”

“Uhm, well-” you paused, frowning at your hands deep in thought “Oh” you smiled “Think about it as this: I can't fuck you if you're in prison.”

Dean nodded his head “Ah yes, that's a good enough re-”

“What?” Sam's head shot up and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh so he speaks!”

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot

520 notes · View notes

sirphillipcranestanaccount · 3 years

Note

Can I be greedy and suggest two prompts? Obvs don’t have to do them both, or either.

1. Neon signs & Polin

2. Dandelion & Benophie

🥰🥰

May, my darling, anything for you. I am going to take the easy way out, however, and have everything take place within the L&F AU

Some corny Polin under the cut, Benophie coming soon

"Colin, do you mind if I doze off for a little bit?" Penelope asked. The low hum of the car engine and the view of trees flitting by in the window was putting her to sleep.

“No problem, get some rest. You’ll need it when we get to Miami.” Colin said.

Colin had taken an assignment to go down to Miami and insisted Penelope come with him. Why they were driving instead of taking a plane was beyond Penelope’s comprehension, but Colin was so ecstatic about the idea that she couldn’t say no.

“It will be great, there’s a thousand places on the way that you need to see!'' he had said. So far they had taken a couple of stops along the coast and eaten at a few restaurants where the staff knew Colin by name.

“What are we going to do when we get there?” Penelope asked.

“I have a few ideas,” Colin said with a smirk. He was keeping his eyes on the road but Penelope could tell, even in profile, that he was arching his brow.

“Like?”

“Sandwiches,” he said excitedly, “specifically Cubanos,”

“Oh,” Penelope replied. And here she thought he had been being flirty.

“But for real, go ahead and sleep,” he said, placing a hand on her thigh.

Penelope soon fell into a deep comfortable sleep, so deep in fact that she must have been out for a few hours, because when she woke up, it was dark outside.

“Where are we?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“We are in Pensacola, Florida,” Colin said with a grin.

“Pensacola?” Penelope asked, “that’s nowhere near where we’re supposed to be.”

“Pen, how many times do I have to tell you that traveling isn’t about where you’re supposed to be, it’s about where you are,” he said looking over at her.

Penelope rolled her eyes, “Okay, why are we where we are?” she said.

“It’s a funny story,” Colin began, “Last year I was doing a piece on tourism on the Gulf Coast and I stopped here in Pensacola at this little motel called the ‘Pensacola Inn’.”

“A fitting name for a motel in Pensacola,” Penelope added.

“Indeed,” Colin affirmed “Now I was tired and had already blown most of my comp budget on the hotels at my actual destinations, so I got their cheapest room, which just happens to be on the second floor right by their big neon sign that shined directly ”

“Mhmm,” Penelope said, wondering where this story was going.

“And wouldn’t you know, half the letters were burned out on the sign,” he said.

“Colin, I love you, but I’m so tired and would really like to know where this is going.” Penelope said

“I think it will make sense if you look up,” he said.

When Penelope looked up she saw the Pensacola Inn sign, but the s, the as and one of the ns were burnt out so it read:

PEN COL IN

“Oh my god,” she said.

“I had been feeling very adrift at the time, and that burnt out sign was the sign I had been looking for,” he said, choking up a bit, “I needed it spelled out for me, but right here, is where I realized that I couldn’t keep trying to avoid my feelings for you.”

“Oh Colin,” Penelope said, her eyes starting to water.

“I wanted to show it to you, even if it wasn’t still burnt out, but it is, and I think it’s because I love you so much that it actually bends the laws of physics.”

“I love you too, Colin, I think I always have, and I know I always will.”

#writing prompts #Bridgerton #bridgerton ff #l&f au #Polin #colin bridgerton #penelope feathering #fact-fictionx

43 notes · View notes

mika-the-shadowbeast · 2 years

Text

*working title* preview 1

Hi, hello everyone! This is the first part to my latest fanfic. It’s not the whole chapter, and still technically a wip as it needs a bit more editing. But it is a preview, so please enjoy. :D

March 27, New Mexico...

Amara had had a day. It wasn’t a good or bad day, but a day it was. And it only got weirder from there.

She had ended up in the dinkiest, cheapest, little motel she had ever been in, as everything else around was full. That was odd in it’s self, as it was nowhere near tourist season yet.

It got worst as she was taking the trash out after a dinner of cold pizza from lunch. As she lifted the lid to the large bin in the parking lot, she came face to face with the strangest creature she had ever seen.

It was small, and almost completely black. It froze as the light from the street lamp bled into the dark space, staring intently at her with large, red, eyes.

Looking into those two red eyes, Amara did the only thing she could think of; she put the lid back on the bin.

Taking a breath, she turned away from the bin, and thought for a moment. Amara was fully awake, she knew this. Still, she bit her hand just to make sure, and yup, she was. She also didn’t take any drugs, nor had she been with anyone who would have slipped her any.

Spinning around to face the bin, she lifted the lid again and stared at the strange creature inside.

He looked back up at her.

They held eye contact for far too long in her opinion.

“So,” She started after an awkwardly long time. “What’cha doing in there?”

“I fell in.” He answered.

“W-what?” She asked, too shocked to say much more.

“I. Fell. In.” He reiterated, looking and sounding way more annoyed then he had a moment ago.

“Oh. Uh, do you want some help? Um, getting back out, I mean.”

He simply stared back at her in return. Then, he held up his hand.

Taking that as an acceptance of help, Amara reached her own hand in and grabbed his. As she was pulling him out, she could think one thing; Ew, sticky. Whatever this creature was, he was filthy. And setting him down in the parking lot, she still couldn’t even tell what he was supposed to be, in the dim light she could only see faint bits of red and what might have white at one point.

“When was the last time you had a bath?” She asked, crouching down to get a better look him.

He didn’t answer, and simply batted her hands away as she tried to examine him.

At least until he froze as a pair of head lights appeared nearby. Glancing between the creature and the fast approaching car, Amara realized she had to make a decision, and quickly too.

Taking a breath, and praying she wasn’t choosing wrong, she scooped the creature up, wincing as he bit into her arm. She practically sprinted into her room, unceremoniously dropping the creature before clicking the lock and sliding the chain back into the door. She stared through the window as the car ever so slowly drove past.

The feeling of being glared at, however, caused her to look back down at the creature, who was sprawled out on the floor. If looks could kill, she’d have dead long ago. Side stepping around him as he growled at her, Amara blindly grabbed the pizza box off the dresser, before holding it out as a peace offering.

He held eye contact as he grabbed a slice and began to eat. Setting the box aside, she sat down. Never before had she been so intimidated by something so small. This thing barely came up to her hips, and it was like she was being sized up by something getting ready to eat her.

“So,” Amara began after a while. “Do you have a name?”

A hard glare was all she got in return.

“Hey, um, I’m sorry for grabbing you like that.” She said, trying a new approach. “I should’ve said something first, but it seemed like you didn’t want to be seen by whoever was in that car.”

The creature looked away suddenly, glaring down at the floor with what almost looked like a pout.

“...I’m sorry for biting you...” It was said so quietly, she almost didn’t hear it.

“It’s, alight. I would’ve bitten me too, if I had been you.” She stated. And it was true, she definitely would’ve bitten someone if they’d had picked up like that.

The creature nodded, seeming to appreciate the understanding.

“Shadow.” He said, after a moment of silence.

“What?” She replied, thinking she had missed part of what he said.

“My name. It’s Shadow.” He said again, no longer making eye contact and posture changing so he almost looked like he was shy.

“Oh! That’s a lovely name. Mine is Amara.”

A simple grunt was his only reply.

“So, Shadow,” He looked up at her after hearing his name. “Would you like to take a bath?”

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #oc #sonic the hedgehog fanfic #sonic movie verse #alternate universe

4 notes · View notes

saxxxology · 4 years

Text

control || oneshot

Sam’s tense, stressed, and you’re his only source of relief.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Native American!Reader

WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics, smut, semi-public sex

NOTE: This work was written for Bel as a commission. Do not save or repost my work without my consent. 18+ only - if you are not 18, please leave/unfollow me!

⭒ become a patron for just $3 ⭒

You’ve been on the road for hours, stopping only for gas and snacks. The sights whizz by at sixty-five miles an hour, open landscape to towering trees. You’re tired and sore from almost two weeks of being on the road and tracking leads on Michael, but Sam won’t stop. Things are getting rough—Omegas are rare, and Sam’s an Alpha in a word where your kind are outnumbered three-to-one. He used to be nice, sweet, kind. Now, since his brother’s been gone almost three weeks… he’s irritable and aggressive, only speaking when you ask him a question or when he wants you to do something.

It’s hard, especially since Alphas and Omegas aren’t genetically compatible by just working together. Sam’s not a bad-looking guy, and you’re an Omega without a mate. It’s programmed into you to want him, bad. Trouble is, he doesn’t seem to feel the same way. If you can just lure him in… he might appreciate you a little more.

“I’m tired,” you murmur one night when you’re peeling through Oregon. “We should find a motel.”

“Get in the backseat.”

You glance over at the Alpha. He looks tired, dark shadows under his eyes, thickening beard, tense jaw. It’s been a rough few days, and he’s been showing the effects of suffering from a lack of sleep.

“Let’s find a motel,” you try to reason. “It’s really late, Sam, and you haven’t slept. I don't want you to pass out on the road.”

He clears his throat. “I won’t.”

“You don’t know that… please, there’s gotta be a place in the next town.” You pull out your phone and open the Maps app, intent on finding a reasonable place. “Let’s just stay for one night, we can shower, get some real food...”

His jaw ticks. “Fine.”

You sigh with relief and scroll through the list of motels that come up. The cheapest one has six rooms available, so you turn on directions and set your phone on your seat. The rest of the drive passes in silence, and you let Sam find a parking spot as you head into the lobby to book a room for the night, with cash. You meet him in the parking lot, where he’s got both of your bags, and then go unlock a room on the second level.

“You shower first,” Sam directs. “We’re outta here first thing in the morning.”

You nod in silent agreement and unzip your duffel bag, tugging out a bundle of clean pajamas. His eyes laser-focus on your back as you disappear into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. The shower pressure is a little heavy, but you let it beat the tension out of your shoulders and back.

It feels good to be alone—the last two weeks have been filled with Sam and hunting and Sam and driving and more Sam. Why he’d chosen you to come along, you have no idea. There’s a bunch of Alphas that had come with you from the other world that are just as good at tracking and hunting as you are, if not better.

Regardless, the Omega in you needs either space or for him to stop being so focused on his mission of finding his brother. He’s an Alpha, after all… if you can coax him into staying a night at a motel after four days of camping out in the Impala, who knows what you can get him to do.

You emerge in a billowing cloud of steam, pulling at a strap of your tank top. Sam’s reclining on one of the beds, watching the news. He stands up when you shove your dirty jeans and tee-shirt back into your bag and grabs his own—just a rolled-up pair of black sweats. Wordlessly, he stalks past you into the bathroom, and you hear the shower start up almost instantly.

Jerk.

***

You check out the next morning, after two hours at the laundromat, where you plot your course back to Lebanon. There’s nothing much to do but go back, since every lead is cold and you can’t do much else.

Another day passes on the road. You pay for a night at a campsite just outside Wyoming and camp down inside the car, Sam in the front seat, you in back. It’s cold, and you spend most of the night shivering and yawning over actually sleeping. Sam takes note of your discomfort the following morning and buys you the biggest coffee Starbucks can make.

You wake up late, having fallen asleep in the backseat. Sam’s still driving, eyes focused on the road, and he barely glances in the rearview mirror as you sit up.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Nebraska.” Sam holds up a bottle of root beer as you clamber back into the front seat. “I got food while you were out, thought you might be thirsty.”

You crack the bottle open and take a long sip. “Thanks.”

“We’ll haul through the night, get back to Lebanon in the morning.” Sam shifts in his seat.

You don’t bother to reply, only sit back in your seat and rest your head against the window. The miles tick by, lit by the light of the moon. The whole car smells like Sam, and it’s starting to drive you nuts.

Sam breaks the silence after almost an hour, taking a deep breath before speaking. “You smell different.”

Cheeks flushing, you sniff under your shirt. “I’m wearing deodorant.”

“Not that.” He tightens his jaw. “You know what I mean.”

You chew on your lower lip. “Are you…?”

“Not going into rut,” he says. “But I can’t deny you smell good. Why d’you think I asked you to come along?”

You shift on the seat, feeling the strong pulse between your legs. “I thought you said I was smart.”

He chuckles. “You are. But there’s other Alphas back at the bunker and I’m not leaving you there alone for them to fight over.”

Your cheeks flare. “They wouldn’t fight.”

He grimaces. “Trust me, they would. I’ve seen more than enough fights over Omegas, they’re brutal and I don’t need to deal with knotheads who can’t control themselves. Besides, with the way you’re smelling right now, it’s not smart to take you back there at all.”

You shift a little closer, heart racing in your chest. “They wouldn’t fight if I had an Alpha.”

His nostrils flare. “Don’t start.”

“It wouldn’t be bad,” you explain. “You don’t have to claim me, I’m not asking for that.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Your hand creeps onto his thigh. “I don’t wanna get dropped off somewhere, Sam. If I got you on me, if I got you inside me, they’d know.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, and what happens when you get pregnant? The last thing I wanna deal with right now is a pup.”

“I’m not in heat.”

“Yet.”

“Still.” Your fingers drift up, rubbing over the front of his jeans. “You’re so on edge, you need to take a break.”

“Can’t.”

“Not even five minutes?”

He tongues the inside of his cheek. “What do you have that’s only gonna take five minutes.”

You give him a little squeeze, watch his upper lip flicker up into a snarl. “Is it so bad that I just want a good, hard fuck? Funny that a guy like you isn’t jumping at the chance to get his knot nice and wet.”

Sam exhales sharply as his cock gives a soft twitch, giving way to the tease of your hand. “Y/N…”

You rub him again, feeling him swell and stiffen in his jeans. “Come on, Sam, please…”

He groans when you lift your hips, shoving your pants down and to the floor. “Y/N—”

“Give me your hand.” You tug one of his hands off the wheel and guide it between your legs, dipping into the waistband of your panties, and two of his fingers slide against wet, hot flesh. “This is what you do to me,” you whisper, rubbing yourself against his hand. “I need it so bad, Sam, please… I’d feel so good on your—”

You squeal as he suddenly turns off the road, down into a little rest patch. The tires grind against the gravel, and he wrenches the door open, pulling his hand from between your legs and wrapping his fingers in the front of your shirt. He drags you out of the car and around to the back, not caring as you let out a whimper of pain as you stumble on the ground.

“Sam, what—?”

He shoves you down over the trunk, letting you catch yourself on your hands. “If you’re going to act like a little Omega slut, then I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

He lifts you onto the trunk and steps between your thighs, wrenching his belt open and pulling his cock into his hand before tugging your panties aside. You feel him rut through your folds, grunting as he slicks himself, and thrusts into his hand as he lines himself up, trying to find your entrance in the darkness. His other hand lands between your tits as he thrusts in with a primal shout, the sudden sensation of hot slick on his cock almost too much. He shudders through another shove, and your breath chokes off when he presses in deep enough for you to feel the firmer flesh near the base of him inside.

“That’s it,” he snarls, “take it good… you wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

You nod, head tipping back as he grabs your waist to hold you still as he picks up the pace. Straining forward, he presses each deep, heavy thrust against your cervix, fighting the urge to see if you’re receptive enough to take him in there, where he’s only been a couple times before, and drain him dry.

“Oh no you don’t.” He shoves your shirt up and palms a tit in one huge palm when you try to wiggle back and change the angle of your hips. “I like it this way, you spread out like a greedy little slut.”

He bends to kiss you, and the feeling of his lips pressed wet and sloppy against yours makes you squirm, desperate for more. Your hands slip around to grab handfuls of his ass, sliding the waistband of his boxers down until you can feel warm, firm muscle. He grunts, rutting closer, and you spread just a little wider, letting the skin above his cock rub against your clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this,” Sam growls, “with my cock inside you… just how you want it. You want it, don’t you? So fucking wet and tight for me. Gonna feel real good getting my knot up in you.”

You cry out, stifling the sound with a palm as he spreads his stance and fucks you closer and closer to orgasm. He grunts when you buck underneath him, trying to get him to ease off, but he holds you in place.

“Scream,” he pants, “nobody can fuckin’ hear you out here, I wanna hear you scream.”

Your head falls back onto the car as your body convulses. A whine turns into a long, hitching series of breaths, and you cum so hard your vision blurs. Sam grunts, going still inside you and working his fingers on your clit until you’re whimpering and begging for him to back off.

He wastes no time in pulling out, tugging your hips off the car, and turning you around to bend you over. You wince as he kicks your ankles apart, and he slides back inside without hesitation, hands holding your hips high enough for him to be comfortable.

“That’s it, baby,” he urges, “I’m almost there, gonna cum nice and deep… take it real good for me…”

You shudder through another wave of pleasure as Sam’s thrusts grow stronger and more determined. His fingers dig into your flesh, surely leaving bruises, and when you feel him curl over you, his lips meeting the back of your neck, you arch for him, slick streaming down the insides of your thighs as he fucks right against your sweet spot.

“Sam—” you choke on a sob as his grunts start to intensify, “fuck you’re… I need you to—”

“I’m gettin’ there,” he pants, “fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

You let out another squeal as he shoves forward, his knot popping inside your cunt as his mouth presses against the back of your neck. He cums with a bestial snarl in your ear, hips pumping wildly against your ass, and you squirm as the heat of his seed fills you.

Panting hard, he slumps against you, pressing as close as he can. His teeth scrape over your skin, and you shiver, arching away. He chuckles darkly.

“You really think I’d claim you right here?” he nips at the back of your neck again, earning a breathy whine. “Mmm, you’re not ready for that. When your hot little ass goes into heat, though…”

You squirm when he gives you a shallow thrust, knot pulsing inside you. “You’ll claim me?”

“I’m not gonna let anyone else get a taste of this,” he murmurs. “It’s all mine now.”

He steps back, easing his softened knot out of your body, and strides around to the backseat to grab a wad of napkins. You wipe yourself down, discarding the sticky tissues in a plastic bag destined for the trash, and slip into the front seat. You’re a mess—panties drenched in slick and cum, the front of your shirt rumpled from where Sam had grabbed you. He eyes the way you squirm on the seat and reaches back to grab a blanket.

“Sit on this,” he directs. “Don’t need you ruining the seat.”

You fight the urge to retort that it’s really his fault that the seat would be ruined, but you tuck the cotton fabric underneath you without a word. It’s pointless to put your pants back on… if Sam wants you again, they’ll only get in his way.

As the Impala pulls back onto the road and roars away, you tuck yourself against his side, head on his shoulder so you can press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He doesn’t object when you slide down to rest your cheek against his thigh, and he settles back in his seat, eyes fixed on the long, dark road ahead.

He’ll figure out what to do with you when you get back.

Please reblog & comment if you enjoyed reading this :)

Wanna get tagged? Click here!

FOREVER TAGS: @atc74 @comicmcfly @defenderrosetyler @daughterofthenight117 @deanmonandnegansbitch @desisamslut @emberocrpblog @emoryhemsworth @ellen-reincarnated1967 @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @fandom-princess-forevermore @heartsaved @kittenofdoomage @kickingitwithkirk @lovelyrocker @lunarsaturn88 @mariekoukie6661 @mrswhozeewhatsis @neii3n @percussiongirl2017 @ssworldofsw @squirrel-moose-winchester @sea040561 @sammysnaughtygirl @starsandasteroids @spnwoman @spnbaby-67 @serpentbaby @stoneyggirl @thecleverdame @tumbler-tidbits @winecatsandpizza @zombiewerewolfqueen @85natalie @4won

#alpha!sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fanfiction

231 notes · View notes

hot-tea-gardenparty · 3 years

Text

Destiel Coda to 9.06 “Heaven Can Wait”

They were both drunk off multiple shots of cheap vodka chased with admittedly nasty bottled lemonade that warmed their stomachs along with slices of greasy, cheesy pizza. Dean hadn’t thought he was going to be spending the night with Castiel, but after what had happened earlier and seeing Castiel’s pained face as he slowly lowered himself into the Impala, Dean held back from his previous plans.

He knew what always seemed to help him in situations that left him feeling hollow….booze, fast food and stupid decisions. It wasn’t a perfect solution and maybe it wouldn’t work, but Dean figured it was worth a shot. So Dean hauled them to the nearest pizza joint with take-out, ransacked a convenience store for their cheapest alcohol and convinced the stubborn fallen angel to ‘stop bitching and get out of the fucking car already’ when they made it back to his highway motel.

Dean was now laughing uncontrollably at Castiel’s confusion over the road runner cartoon on TV in their motel room. Cas’ head lolled to the side and he asked in a drunken ramble why the coyote was so intent on catching the road runner, “Especially when the road runner obviously always wins.” Cas burped, “I mean, wouldn’t the coyote get sick of taking on bodily harm?”

“It’s just a cartoon, Cas.” Dean replied, swigging down another shot, “Don’t think so hard.”

Cas nodded and poured himself another shot, giggling as his now drunken lack of coordination made the clear alcohol slosh over the brim of his coffee mug, “Whoopsie!”

Dean pushed himself to slide along the foot of the bed where both he and Castiel were leaning against the large bed frame, trying to get himself closer to his best friend’s side. “When did you learn that?”

Castiel grimaced after he chugged down the shot, grabbing another piece of pizza and taking a bite, “Learn what?”

“The uhm…” Dean couldn’t concentrate with this much alcohol drowning his synapses, the room and TV seeming to sway and swim in his field of vision, “Whoopsie?”

The rest of Castiel’s pizza slice was then forgotten and thrown back into the box with a slap, his eyes glazed as he finished chewing, “A young girl…came into the store…” he wiped his hands on the questionable, rosy-hued and stained, motel carpet, “She bought an ice-cream cone with chocolate fudge.” He looked over at Dean, whose eyes followed Castiel’s hands as he mimed her holding the ice cream and going to take a bite…and then, “Splat!” Castiel shouted, one palm slapping forcefully down on the carpet, shaking the pizza box slightly, “Ice cream and chocolate all over the floor.” He cleared his throat, smiling, “She said, whoopsie. It seemed endearing.”

“Wow.” Dean chuckled as he watched Cas push his empty mug away as a nonchalant sign of being done with the vodka, “Learning all kinds of...stuff.”

Castiel nodded, “All the important skills…how to mop up ice cream, how to clean the slushie machine, get unknown substances off of bathroom walls…” Castiel’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the TV, unseeing the cartoon still playing on low volume, “How to read signals from people.” He chuckled without humor, “Apparently that skill still needs some honing, seeing as I didn’t notice how Nora’s advances were more focused on getting a babysitter than a boyfriend.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly…” Dean said, setting his own empty mug down beside him.

Castiel swung his head in Dean’s direction, “I WOULD say that, exactly.”

“Disagree with me all you want, Cas.” Dean closed the pizza box, moving it on top of the bed, scooting himself even closer to Castiel’s side, “I am sure you are better than you think at….reading signals…or whatever.”

Castiel crossed his arms as he continued to stare intently in Dean’s direction, barely blinking and bringing Dean to wonder how many hues of blue he could find in Castiel’s eyes if he looked long enough. “How about you try to read me?” Dean proposed.

A roll of Castiel’s eyes broke them from out of their shared gaze, “I am sure I will fail at this endeavor.”

They argued drunkenly, Dean continuing to goad with ‘come on, it’ll be easy’ and a few slaps to Castiel’s, thicker than expected, upper arm. With a sigh, Castiel finally agreed, Dean standing up and turning away to go through in his head the multiple different poses and facial expressions he’d seen women throw his way over the years, trying to narrow down the ones he figured would be easiest to decipher.

After a few seconds, Dean spun around on the balls of his feet, his voice cranked into a woman’s higher pitch and his hands in a pose he hoped came off as dainty in his drunken state, “Hey, you must be new because I definitely would have remembered you if you’d worked here before.”

Castiel sat silent for a second, “Uhm…I think that means she finds me attractive?”

Dean nodded and stepped closer to give Castiel a slap on the shoulder, “See, no problem! I don’t even have to do more than one. You’re a master.” Then sat down on the carpet again, this time near the end of Castiel’s outstretched legs.

Dubious was the best word to describe the look on Castiel’s face, “Dean, even if I read all the…” Castiel flailed his arms, circling in the stale air coming from the rattling air conditioner, “signals correctly…that doesn’t mean much.”

With a shake of his head, Dean replied, “It might not, but that’s no reason to quit trying!”

They fell quiet, the TV now flickering through an infomercial and softening the silence around the room with a low level drone.

Dean cleared his throat, “Listen,” he started, unconsciously scratching at his wrist, “I’m sorry about Nora. She, uhm....she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Castiel shrugged, “Possibly…”

Dean cleared his throat, he needed to say something to make Cas feel better…and he knew what it was, but it still took a second to give himself the slap to the balls to start, “You know, I never meant to kick you out of the bunker, Cas. I can’t explain exactly why right now, but believe me, I wanted you to stay. Honestly.”

Cas nodded, picked randomly at his bandages, and quietly replied, “Yes, I know, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean didn’t know what came over him, maybe it was the forlorn look in Castiel’s eyes or the fact that his shoulders looked taught with the burden of human life and emotions, but he felt the need to prove his words. He needed to get Castiel to understand how much he meant to him, how much Dean wasn’t lying when he said he needed him around, wanted him around.

Without thinking too much and trying not to knock over his own nearby mug, Dean grabbed Castiel’s cut hand, slowly bringing his lips to Castiel’s palm and looking up as he deftly kissed over the layers of bandages. Cas’ eyes widened and his mouth parted in a sigh as Dean looked up into his face, green eyes glittering in the soft yellow glow of a nearby bedside lamp.

A beat. The air was suddenly heavy and thick.

A halt in the murmur of the television and the hum of the air conditioner had Castiel slowly leaning forward, stopping close enough where Dean could smell the sweet lemonade on Cas’ breath and see the sparks of gold slicing through the bright blue of his glassy eyes.

Another beat.

Dean realized Cas was waiting for him to finish the push forward. He was waiting for permission. Waiting for Dean to cut the caution tape. To smash the invisible, unspoken about wall they’d put between them.

And he did. Oh boy….he did.

He brought a hand up to the back of Castiel’s neck, gently gripping at the soft hair and coming into taste the lips he had desired for so long. Castiel sighed into the kiss, body beginning to lax, his mouth opening, sweet and warm, his undamaged hand coming to rest between Dean’s shoulder-blades while the unbandaged fingers of his other lean against the jut of Dean’s collarbone.

Gripping the back of Cas’ head a little harder, Dean nipped once, twice, at Castiel’s lower lip, pushing the kiss from soft and gentle, into a thundering territory of hard desire and feral, desperate hunger. With his one free hand, Dean slid it to the small of Castiel’s back, gently maneuvering Cas to straddle his outstretched legs, not once breaking their searing deep kiss.

Dean could feel his heart pounding as his mind drowned in a flood of excitement. He was kissing Castiel, he was kissing his best friend, an angel of the damn lord….and he was loving every second of it. He loved feeling Castiel’s soft, silken hair running through his fingers and the muscles of his back flexing, he loved hearing Cas’ little moans and deep breaths between the rhythms of their lips. It was intoxicating.

Castiel gave back as much as he took from Dean, his hips instinctively rolling forward repeatedly with every swipe of his tongue along Dean’s lips and teeth. His good hand trailed down Dean’s spine, his fingers tickling along the band of Dean’s jeans and under his shirts, back and fourth, over the dip in his lower back while scratching at the soft skin of his hipbones.

Dean pulled away, just barely, to suck in much needed air, “Fuck, Cas…” he trailed off, his hips pushing up to meet Castiel’s, the muscles in his thighs aching from the repetitive motion. Their lips still rubbed together, slick with spit and hot with their breath. Dean ran his palms down from Cas’ neck, over his strong shoulders and trailing along the front of his shirt, biting his lip as the muscles underneath twitched. Looking down, following his hand’s path, Dean could see through the opening the two undone buttons of the shirt to the golden skin beneath.

Damn.

After a few more moments, Castiel moved his head back a little further and Dean took in his kiss swollen, red lips, his mussed hair and wide chest flushed with exertion. Dean knew he probably looked the same.

“We should stop.” Cas whispered, but not physically moving from Dean’s lap. He swallowed, “We are drunk.”

Dean shook his head, not really knowing what to say but blurting out, “Not drunk anymore.”

Cas smiled and chuckled sadly, fitting his warm palms to frame Dean’s face, his thumbs trailing over the shape of Dean’s lips and down his stubbled chin. Words didn’t need to be spoken, Dean knew what Castiel was trying to tell him, even through the fog of alcohol and sleep deprivation. They did have to stop. As much as it felt impossible, no matter how desperate their desire, no matter how intensely as it tore their hearts in two, this time was not the right one. Not yet, anyway.

Dean sighed and nodded, “Let’s get some shut-eye, then, I guess.”

It took all of Dean’s strength to pry himself off and away from Castiel on that musty motel floor. Not only because his legs were still half asleep even after Castiel stood up, but because his body didn’t seem to want to leave their heady embrace.

After they both stood, Dean allowed himself the chance to watch with a heated stare as Cas took off his jeans and white button up and slipped quietly between the bed sheets. Castiel looked up at Dean expectantly, wordlessly showcasing his intent. Dean chuckled and took up the invitation Castiel gave, stripping down to his boxers and sliding into the bed. Clicking off the lights and scootching close to Castiel, Dean bent his arm to lay on Cas’ toned torso and push his cheek against a broad, strong shoulder. It was different to lay like this with another man, but it was still warm. Still calming. If Dean thought about it too much, he might have even admitted he felt safe. The safest he’d ever felt.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel whispered into Dean’s hair as the early morning dark enveloped them.

“Goodnight, Cas.” Dean replied, knowing that they were both trying to stay awake, trying to cling to this reality as long as they possibly could. Sleep would come and the dawn would arrive, and with it, the personalized forced forgetfulness of what had just occurred. They would get dressed and go their separate ways again, focused on their self-imposed missions. No more time for whatever this night brought about. Put those feelings and those intense desires back into the box, lock them away again….because emotions and feelings….those things made you a target. Made you malleable. Made you weak. And they both knew it. They knew, it was plain and simple, that this comfort was all they could have for a while. This was the limit to what they could allow themselves to have.

But until the morning, until the clock struck the final hour, they could just be together. Hold on to each other in the dark.

Because hell…what more could a repressed hunter and a fallen angel of the lord really need anyway?

Right?

83 notes · View notes

castielific · 3 years

Text

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story.

Summary:

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day.

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens.

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles.

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate.

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!"

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before.

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east.

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off.

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby.

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now.

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone.

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today.

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin.

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky.

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear.

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin.

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex?

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze.

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them.

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek.

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar.

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint.

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't.

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone.

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures.

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck.

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes.

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile.

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here.

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled.

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way,

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint.

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'.

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this.

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer.

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not.

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it.

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough.

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces.

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass.

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here.

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey.

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole.

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes.

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?"

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal.

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her.

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments.

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse.

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely.

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off.

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout.

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up.

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand?

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away.

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant.

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair.

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face.

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything.

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…".

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there.

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash.

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!"

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really.

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly.

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?"

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?"

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

"I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know.

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile.

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled.

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time.

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension.

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day...

You can read the rest on AO3

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas #dean/castiel #dean/cas #spn fic #ao3 fic #destiel fanfiction #AU #pretend/fake relationship #homeless!dean #rich!cas #myfic #my fic #castielific #castielificfic

65 notes · View notes

trvelyans-archive · 3 years

Note

oh PLEASE tell me zelda's search history 😩

- vampire sightings near me

- what's the cheapest motel chain in the united states

- how do i get the smell of weed out of my car

- do i have to have a chef degree or whatever to start a food blog

- how to tell someone british to fuck off

send me an oc and i will give you a list of 5 things that would be on their search history

#oc: zelda #miss her and rhys SFM !#ask

6 notes · View notes

adamvisa · 1 year

Text

Cheapest Hotels & Motels in the Area, Suggested Online Reservation Services.

Take use of a hotel booking service to locate the most cost-effective local hotels and motels. You may save yourself time and money by reading one of the millions of reviews already posted online. Whenever we take a trip, the majority of us now reserve our hotel rooms online.

Sites that help you find the best hotels at the lowest prices, like those that specialize in finding the cheapest hotel motels near me, are becoming increasingly popular every month.

0 notes

platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

The Prince and the Pauper (that drives an Uber) Ch. 2

Part One | Two | Three | Four

Prince Steve paid for the hotel—he wanted one with neon lights, ideally a blinking palm tree, for some reason, until Billy explained you couldn’t order food. In the face of a royal pout, he offered to pick up pizza, and Steve studied the menu on his phone before ordering five pizzas, deleting them, and yanking Billy closer to consult.

Billy watched him scroll through, and leaned closer. “I could tell you all the reasons you don’t want to stay in the cheapest motel,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s ear to make him duck his head in a grin, “—but...I’ve never stayed in a nice hotel.”

“Ohhhh,” Steve trailed off, then pulled him into a soft kiss. “You should—you should definitely get to, I’ll take you somewhere nice.”

Billy breathed a sigh of relief, remembering driving back from his dad’s place, Max silent as he got a motel room and brushed rat droppings off the pillowcases. The sticky carpet had adhered to their shoes, making a crisp tape-like noise when he returned with sandwiches, and realized Max had gotten him out of the way so she could cry in the bathroom. He had tiptoed out, walked around the block, and come in again.

The idea of taking a prince to a motel with foot-long wads of hair and crud whipping wildly from the front of the AC units, or pipes so rusted out the water looked like old blood...was a great idea for a horror movie, he thought, imagining the cursive, loopy pastel font of the movie he was currently in. I want a romcom, he admitted to himself, watching Steve flick the pizzas away to frown at tourist guide listings.

“The nicest,” said Steve, scrolling through search results. “Hot tub?”

“I’d probably be impressed anyway,” Billy told him, staring at the pictures of penthouse suites. “That’s so much money, no!”

Steve grinned at him. “Their security is best. Technically I am a target of assassination attempts—”

“Technically?! What happened?!” Billy choked, his hands tightening on Steve’s arm without his permission, like he was going to prevent...something. Steve blowing away in the wind, maybe, or someone shoplifting him. This was what the money was for, he reminded himself, resisting the urge to laugh hysterically—he had driver duties now, and one of them was to hang onto his prince’s hand like a helpless moron.

Steve grimaced. “It’s been years. And I was in the car with an archbishop—”

“What happened,” Billy said, and Steve grimaced, hunching his shoulders.

“A...car...bomb?”

Billy didn’t even think, he just yanked the other full-grown man in the car towards him, squeezing his muscular shoulders until Steve banged into the the gearshift. “Jesus christ on a cracker,” Billy whispered.

Steve was muttering something else in a language Billy didn’t know, swearing and rubbing his hip, and Billy let him go.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry,” Billy apologized. “Sorry.”

“I don’t think I was the target,” Steve laughed, reaching over to pull Billy’s face close enough to kiss his cheek, while Billy’s head played a unhelpful recording of every movie explosion he’d ever seen, burning tires spinning away, and people trapped in crushed metal as the gas pooled near the flames. “I was greeting a black archbishop from Zimbabwe,” Steve said casually. “There were nazis—” he flapped his hand.

Billy made some kind of weird noise in his throat, cleared it, and said “Give me the fucking directions, we’re getting you to a fucking hotel.”

“A nice one,” Steve laughed, checking his phone. “We can get dinner.”

“Is that the only time somebody tried to kill you?” Billy asked, staring at the phone and repeating the address in his head, as a mantra.

Steve winced, opening his mouth, then biting his lips. “Uhhhh...noooooo?” he trailed off, and Billy smacked randomly at the passenger seat, unwilling to take his eyes from the road. He connected with something, soft hoodie over muscle, and Steve laughed, pushing his hand away. “Um. I…”

“You are a shitty liar,” Billy told the prince in his passenger seat.

“Maybe don’t google me,” Steve said, grimacing, and Billy gunned the motor to get through the yellow light. “Why,” Billy hissed. “Did your family get gunned down behind a theater? Are you the goddamn Batman?”

“What?” Steve snorted. “No? Aneurysm.”

“Holy shit, jesus christ,” Billy said, clenching the steering wheel. “Fuck, I was kidding, goddamn.”

“Just my mom,” Steve shrugged, as Billy shot him a disbelieving glance. “It’s fine, I don’t even remember her, I was just two—”

“Oh my god,” Billy choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry, holy crap.”

“She was a beautiful princess?” Steve said brightly, laughing at Billy’s enraged muttering. “My dad didn’t take royal title when he married her—he didn’t want to quit his job—so everybody joked that if he’d been a prince, he could’ve woken her up with a kiss. If only he thought ahead, right?”

“That’s horrible,” Billy whispered. “That’s so fucked up.”

“It’s a little funny,” Steve said, shrugging, and Billy groaned, pulling into the parking lot under the hotel.

Steve was watching out the window, his brain probably somewhere else entirely, when Billy pulled up to the window and accepted the paper ticket. “Oh, wait,” Steve said, as Billy pulled around to look for a parking space. “Did you have to pay? I never have to pay, I forgot—”

“Poor little rich boy,” Billy muttered. “Nah, I’ll pay on my way out.”

“Mmn,” Steve said, sighing. “Okay.”

“Sorry I said stupid shit about your parents,” Billy told him, grimacing as Steve got out of the car and wandered away to frown around the parking garage before smiling, waving back at Billy, and pointing triumphantly to the stairs. Billy started to follow, then remembered there was an entire goddamn crown rolling around in his backseat, and climbed over to stretch for it, and wrap the thing up in Steve’s discarded starchy white wedding jacket. “Jesus,” Billy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and getting out. “Sorry, again,” he said again, trotting up, and Steve shrugged.

“How nice? You want the honeymoon suite, or—”

“I just don’t wanna wake up to a crack-smoking rat sucking my dick,” Billy told him, eyes narrowed. “You can get STDs from the sheets in some of those motels.”

Steve blinked, staring at him, his mouth twitching. “That’s...vivid,” he said, biting back a snicker. “What do you think? I think I deserve a honeymoon suite,” he said thoughtfully.

You deserve anything you want, Billy didn’t say, or I love you. He cleared his throat. “Sure. What’s that do? You get wine or something?” He wasn’t, strictly speaking, supposed to drink on work nights, but Max would understand. Probably. Billy ran his fingers through his curls, making a face.

“This one sounds like it’s breakfast in bed for two—”

“I’m onboard—” Billy cut in immediately, and Steve laughed.

“—they put rose petals on the bed, I guess?”

“Only fair,” Billy nodded, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder to look at the pictures. “Princes probably need some flowers to feel right. Few woodland animals, maybe.”

“...you saying I should sing at the birds on the balcony?”

“Yeah, charm some pigeons,” Billy nodded. “Tell ‘em you got good and laid on your honeymoon.”

The lady behind the hotel desk didn’t realize they were together, and tried to step between them to take Steve to his room, but she apologized profusely when Steve grabbed Billy’s hand.

Once they got there, Billy stood staring at the glass shower in the middle of the room. “...I feel like a creep just standing here,” he said, frowning.

Steve snickered, pulling the hoodie off over his head. Billy watched him fold it and sit it on a chair, and missed it already—Prince Steve, cozy in Billy’s faded hoodie, smelling like laundry soap. Steve pulled the shirt off too, and then Billy wasn’t thinking about anything but skin.

Billy peeled out of his shirt, and swaggered closer to lift Steve’s chin for a kiss.

“Mmn,” Steve hummed into it, then pulled away, sprawling back across the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows to rake his gaze up and down Billy’s body.

“Surveying the goods?” Billy asked, flexing, and resisting the urge to cover the slight softness of his stomach, come from nights eating in the car between fares instead of hitting the gym, and evenings with Max eating ice cream and watching stupid TV.

“Never done this before,” Steve said, off-handedly, and Billy folded his arms on reflex, feeling his smile turn a little mean.

“Never what,” he laughed. “Never fucked a guy? Or a what, a servant? Never been this bored?”

“Jesus,” Steve sat up again, brows scrunched over uncertain brown eyes. “You want to stop? We can—”

“No, no,” Billy took a slow breath, imagining his therapist’s voice. Listen to what people actually say, she’d said. “Sorry. I—I’m—you’ve never done what. Exactly.”

“Any of this,” Steve said, pulling his legs up on the bed.

He was scrunching himself up, Billy realized, pulling his limbs in to protect his tender underbelly, and Billy forced himself forward and put his hands on either side of Steve’s hot, slightly stubbly face. “Hey, hey, you’re all...pillbugged up. Uh...nobody knows you’re gay?” he asked the prince, in the honeymoon suite, trying to be...gentle.

“I’m not,” Steve said, scooting back against the headboard, and Billy jerked his hands back.

“Well, I’m glad I helped you get that straight,” he shot back, scrambling off the bed and yanking his pants off the floor.

“Wait, wait, Billy—” Steve crawled after him, swinging his legs down, and Billy stopped, registering his prince was so hard he was leaking, his dick rubbing shiny streaks across his legs as he moved. “I’m not straight, wait, I’m—I like men too, and—” he frowned into the middle distance, bending his knee up again, to lean his chin on it, “—I was at a red carpet thing and Indya Moore walked by and my heart stopped, I swear to god, I am definitely into…” he mouthed at the ceiling, frowning. “Thudes?”

“...sorry,” Billy said, dropping his jeans, and rubbing his face with his hands. “Sorry. I keep—I’m waiting for the punchline, tonight, sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said cautiously, and Billy walked back over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, shit, I’m sorry. Sorry,” Billy said, reaching out to squeeze his prince’s hand. “You’re...perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” Steve shot back, narrowing his eyes, and Billy snorted a laugh and coughed. Steve sighed. “I should look up the words,” he said, beckoning. “So that doesn’t...happen again. Come back. Come here.”

“Thought maybe I scared you straight,” Billy huffed a laugh, scooting closer, and Steve smirked up at him.

“Gonna have to try a lot harder than that,” he said.

“Lemme kiss you,” Billy told him, feeling hoarse, then jerked with surprise as Steve surged up to kiss him open-mouthed, tasting of mint and latex, and pulling Billy across him onto the bed in a crash of elbows, knees, stiff bridal uniform trousers, and bumping teeth. “God, feels like I just married you,” Billy whispered, rubbing his nose with a wince where it had connected with Steve’s jaw.

He could feel his face getting hot again, but with Steve grinning under him, all he could think about was soft lips, and the warm, firm skin against his. “Should have carried you across the threshold,” he whispered, bracing himself on his elbows to hover over Steve’s chest.

“Maybe you should’ve,” he said, laughing. “Maybe—”

“Maybe I should,” Billy said, sliding off the bed to scoop the royal heir into his arms, spin them both around—Steve whooped, slinging his arms around Billy’s neck and kicking his feet—and walking them out the door of the hotel room.

It locked.

“Oh shit!” Billy breathed, and Steve burst into snickers, hugging him tighter around the neck.

“I’ve got the keycard in my pocket,” he whispered, kissing Billy’s jaw. “Husband.”

“Shit,” Billy answered, laughing along now he knew he hadn’t locked them out. Steve squirmed around to dig into his pocket, and waved it at the door. “Good thing it’s not real,” Billy said into his hair. “Married to me, jesus.”

“You want a divorce already?” Steve asked, blinking wide eyes up at him, and Billy spun them around, kissing him on the way to the bed, his muscles complaining as he wished he’d spent more time at the gym and less time trying to keep track of Max’s anime addictions.

“No, no, you want me, you’ve got me,” Billy panted, sitting on the bed and letting them both fall sideways, so Steve’s legs were half on top of him.

“Good, I can’t take getting dumped that often,” Steve mumbled, sliding his hand around the back of Billy’s neck, and yanking him into a kiss.

Steve was warm, and laughing, and Billy pushed back on questioning his good luck. Something had to go right eventually, he told himself. Balance out the rest of my life. He oofed as Steve rolled on top of him.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, sliding his hands over Billy’s chest and shoulders with a little intent smile like he was exploring the unknown.

“Hey,” Billy whispered back, folding his arms behind his back, both so he could watch, and to make his arms flex. “Finding anything good?”

“Started out good, keeps getting better,” Steve mumbled, narrowing his eyes as he scooted forward to lean in for a kiss. Billy was already feeling his face heat, wondering who even said shit like that, when their cocks brushed, and he groaned, bucking his hips into the sensation. “God, I’m so lucky,” Steve mumbled against Billy’s lips, and Billy barked a laugh, yanking him in by the back of his head and hair for a slow kiss, the kind where Billy could see what made his prince hum happily and press closer.

Steve shifted on top of him, squishing and sliding their cocks together, and Billy made an undignified squeaking noise into his mouth. Steve lifted his head, laughing, and then leaned in again just as a knock came on the door.

Billy didn’t even register the noise, pushing himself up on his elbows to chase the kiss he’d been deprived of, but Steve pushed him back down, laughing. “Stay here, I’ll get it,” he whispered, and Billy blinked after him, bereft.

Room service brought half the menu, it looked like, and Billy stared, sitting up. “...you’re probably hungry,” he said, laughing, and Steve lifted a few lids and stuck his finger in one, then closed the lid again and crawled over, sticking a finger full of maple syrup in Billy’s mouth as he dropped next to him.

Billy watched him, feeling his skin heat again at Steve’s matter-of-fact appraisal of his dick, which was hard as rock, dripping from watching Steve peel back out of the robe, and bend over the cart.

“Hungry for you first,” Steve said, lying half on top of him so he could fist their dicks together, and looking kind of delighted as he tried it. Billy wondered in passing if Steve had watched something similar in porn, or invented it himself, but couldn’t hold back a groan at the feeling of tight, warm skin on his cock, and Steve’s smile as he kissed the syrup off Billy’s lips. “Even sweeter,” he whispered, and Billy snorted a laugh, his face so hot it burned.

He’d meant to make it good for Prince Steve, soft and slow, and there he was, pinned and writhing, his fists clenched in the sheets, while the royal hand worked his cock. “Billy,” Steve whispered, his breath hot as Billy moaned against his mouth.

“Anything,” Billy mumbled back, and came all over their stomachs. Steve was only a few seconds later, and Billy hugged him close, sticky and panting. “Anything,” he whispered again, burying his face in Steve’s hair.

“You’re enough already,” Steve laughed, smiling. “I was just saying your name. You’re perfect.”

Billy snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sure,” he said, smiling back.

Steve sat up, frowning down at his messy stomach, and Billy swung his legs off the bed and ran to the bathroom. He returned with a wet cloth to wipe up his prince’s belly, then fold it and scrub it over his sides, and up his chest, until Steve laughed and kissed him again, squishing the gross washcloth between them.

The next morning, Billy went to slide out of bed and get to class, and Prince Stephen of Blois, Grand Cross of the Order of the House of Orange, rolled over to slide an arm around his waist, kissing his side. The royal stubble tickled, and Billy squirmed around to face his attacker.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, reaching up to stroke his knuckles down Billy’s stubble.

Billy realized there was no reason compelling enough to leave, and crawled back over his fare-turned-seducer and prince. “…what are you doing today?” he asked, and Steve raised his eyebrows, then pulled Billy down to lie on top of him. His warm hands slid up Billy’s back as he hummed thoughtfully, and Billy was relieved to find the squirming body under him was nearly as hard as he was.

“…thought you said you had class,” Steve whispered, and Billy laughed, nuzzling in to kiss his neck.

“I get…okay grades…” Billy mumbled, catching the skin of Steve’s neck between his teeth, and feeling him groan. “…miss a day.”

Steve’s groan turned more resigned. “How about we meet again after class?” he asked, and Billy froze, then sat back, frowning down.

“…you can just tell me to stop,” he said.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Steve told him, grabbing Billy’s hand and kissing it, so Billy could feel the royal breath, warm across his knuckles. “But you—you stopped working to take me bowling, I can’t make you miss school.”

“It’s okay,” Billy laughed, his eyes fixed on the prince kissing his hand, like they were at Cinderella’s ball. “I’m not that dumb,” he muttered. “I can miss one day.”

“You’re not dumb,” Steve frowned, and Billy’s grin widened.

“You wanna bet, pretty boy?”

“I was…what if I want to…see you again?” Steve muttered, and Billy raised his eyebrows. “You have to tell me no, if I’m interrupting something—“

Billy squinted. “The fuck do you mean, see me again. You’re going back to—to Europe, right?”

“Not today,” Steve sighed, stretching, and then rubbing his face so Billy couldn’t see his expression.

“Just a few days, though,” Billy insisted. “I can free up my time, I’m nobody important—“

Steve dropped a hand to Billy’s thigh. “So you do want to see me,” he said flatly, and Billy swallowed.

“Y-yeah,” he laughed, watching Steve’s hands, instead of his face. “Of course. You got time for me, I’m there.”

“...okay,” Steve said, and he sounded like he was smiling, so Billy looked up to see his foreign royalty with a little grin on his face, and pink cheeks. Billy leaned in to kiss him, and Steve mumbled happily against his mouth. “...alright,” Steve said, stroking his fingers through Billy’s tangled hair. “I’ll see you after your classes. Text me.”

Billy half-wanted to threaten him. Say ‘if you don’t mean that, just fuck me now,’ but he took a slow breath, and didn’t do anything insane, like punch next to Steve’s head, and whisper threats about liars. “Yeah,” he said, getting up off the bed, wishing he could just—just jack off looking at Steve, lying there with his long legs and the curve of his ass cheek hanging out of the blankets. He thought about Max’s face if he admitted he’d tried to ditch work and school for some kind of sex marathon with a stranger, and yanked his jeans up.

“Love to watch you leave,” Steve sang, hanging half off the bed, and Billy burst out laughing, and nearly stumbled and fell with his jeans halfway up his hips.

“Call me,” he called back as he yanked his sweatshirt on. It smelled like expensive cologne, and he didn’t look back as he left, thinking hard about cleaning the kitchen drain to try and get his cock to go back to sleep. Steve yelled something as he closed the door, but Billy just ducked his head and ran for the stairs.

Billy’d organized his classes to be done, most days, by eleven in the morning. It left time for homework, and packing lunches for he and Max the next day, and a nap before work.

At eleven-oh-three, he was playing with his phone, biting his lips, and looking at the contact picture of Prince Steve failing hard at bowling. Finally, he tossed it in the passenger seat and drove home.

There was folded, stacked laundry on the table, along with a piece of paper that said ‘BROTHER SHAMING: what has he left in his pocketses’ on which dwelt an empty bottle of sunscreen, a pile of quarters, the now-half-wrapped, linty Starburst candies he’d grabbed instead of cigarettes, a handful of shredded Kleenex, a tube of eyeliner that was oozing blackened water onto the note, tiny bottles of mint schnapps and mint mouthwash, and a gooey pile that might once have been a cookie. Billy bit his lips together, raising his eyebrows, and cleaned his pockets out right there on the table.

It was sort of the opposite of a treasure hunt, usually—wadded up wrappers full of gum, stuff people left in his back seat—but today he slapped down the wad of hundred-dollar bills Steve had given him, and heard Max gasp from the doorway.

“Oh my jesus,” she whispered. “Billy. Did—what did you—did you—did you get a sugar daddy? Are you—are you letting some asshole millionaire fuck your ass?!” She grabbed his wrist, squeezing it hard, but he was laughing too hard, half-collapsing against the table, to answer helpfully. “Did you rob a bank?!” she squeaked. “Did you fuck a bank robber?! Billy!”

“No!” He cackled, dropping into a chair, and leaning his face in his arms. “No, no—”

“Is it real?!” she hissed, crouching to eyeball the money at face-level, then shuffling close to sniff it. “It smells like Skittles,” she whispered. “Billy...you could go to jail, don’t whore yourself out to counterfeiters—”

He laughed so hard he wasn’t even making noise anymore, and she punched his shoulder.

“At least make them pay with real money!” she hissed. “Is your ass counterfeit?! No!”

“No,” he wheezed, and she smacked his shoulder.

“What did you do,” she growled. “What the fuck, brother mine.”

“It’s real,” he whispered, trying to stop giggling. “It’s real, it’s fine.”

“What did you do to get it,” she asked, eyes narrowed, and he grinned at her ferocity. “Billy. Are you safe,” she asked, grabbing his sleeve, and he nodded, wiping his eyes.

“It’s fine, Max, I swear. I didn’t do anything shitty—”

“Did anyone do anything shitty to you,” she growled again, like a redheaded wolverine, and Billy started snickering again, grabbing her and noogieing her head until she yelled and yanked hard on a handful of his hair.

“I’m okay,” he told her. “I don’t owe anybody anything, I’m not in trouble, and I didn’t do anything I didn’t wanna do.”

“...okay,” she said suspiciously. “Can we...spend it? All we got is cereal and canned beans.”

“Yeah, go nuts,” Billy sighed, leaning his chin on his arms and imagining Steve’s grin, pressed against the door of the bathroom stall as he tried to hand his one-night-stand enough money to let Billy relax for a month. “Don’t, like, blow it all, but get some greens, maybe. I wanna take my car in, see why it’s making that whinny.”

“Damn. Yeah,” Max stared at her hands as she counted the money, then shook her head. “Christ, Billy, we could get a new toaster.”

“...it works,” he muttered, but eyed it speculatively. “Maybe we should wait. Save it, y’know. Just in case I—”

“It sparked so bad yesterday it was—it was like lightning in the kitchen,” she said with a grimace. “I threw a Pop Tart in and didn’t have the lights on, and I pushed the thing down and—GAH. Seriously, one of these days, you—you’re gonna find me on the kitchen floor with smoking hair.”

“Okay,” Billy nodded, making a face. “But then we gotta save some. I get sick, there’s no way to cover bills—”

“I know that!” she yelled. “That’s why I want a job, asshole!”

“I can do this!” he yelled back, and she narrowed her eyes, taking a step back and away, and Billy bit his lips, turning to face the other way. “I—I’ve got this, okay, just—just fucking—go to school and shit, you’re fourteen—”

“You’re eighteen!” she shot back. “You can’t even buy liquor!”

“I know!” he shouted at the wall, wanting to scream. “I know, I—I’m—we’ll get a fucking toaster, okay, I—I got you, will you just—”

“You don’t have to!” she shrieked back at him, and the neighbor started pounding on the wall.

“Shut up,” Billy sighed. He grabbed his phone, stomped into his bedroom, and locked the door.

He could hear Max slamming around in the kitchen, and he groaned, burying his face in his pillow, when his text alert went off. He clicked it, sniffling.

Prince: You off in time for lunch? Or dinner?

Billy stared at it, and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, blew out, and texted back.

Billy: Out of school

Billy: don’t have to work today because somebody handed me a stack of CASH last night

The phone rang, and Billy cleared his throat before he answered.

“You wanna pick me up? I’ll get you lunch,” said his prince.

“Y-yeah,” Billy nodded, wiping his nose.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, and he sounded so urgent Billy wanted to bawl.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he said, curling up tighter on the bed. “I—I’ll come and—you still at the hotel?”

“Yes I am,” Steve said, “I’m—is there anything I can do?”

“You already fucking did,” Billy grated out. “I have money and my kid sister is all excited to have a toaster that won’t kill us and worried as shit I’ll get sick and we won’t have any money left—”

“A toaster?” Steve repeated, startled. “Are you—you okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” Billy growled out, his vision blurring with tears again. “I’m—it’s fine, it’s just—” Steve waited, and Billy rolled onto his face, punching the pillow. His throat hurt. “I don’t have custody,” he whispered. “She—I’m her step-brother, you know, I just—god. Anything happens to me, she’s—”

Steve was quiet at the other end, and Billy wondered whether he’d hung up. “...but you’re fine?” he asked finally. “Right now, you’re okay?”

“I can do this,” Billy told him, swallowing hard. “She doesn’t need to—she’s trying to—she’s just a kid, she doesn’t need to—”

“...she’s worried about her brother?” Steve asked, and it sounded like he was smiling.

“She wants to get some—some sleazy job that’d hire kids,” Billy growled at him. “Help pay for things. She’s gonna do something dumb—”

“Maybe there’s a way she could help?” Steve suggested, and Billy sat up, glaring out the window, then down at his hands.

“She doesn’t need to! She already—she did all the laundry, and she’s out with your money buying food—she’ll probably cook something shitty—”

“I could get her dinner too,” Steve offered, laughing.

“She’s fourteen,” Billy hissed at him, and Steve was quiet for a long moment.

“Uh.” Steve paused. “Um...you know you’re her brother, right?”

“I’m not, that’s the problem—and I know, I’m—I’m trying, I just can’t—I can’t get it right, I never get anything—”

“Wait, wait, Billy,” Steve interrupted. “Billy.”

“Yeah,” Billy whispered, wiping his eyes.

“Just...why do you do all this?”

“The fuck do you mean why,” Billy yelled. “She called me, she—she needed—she needed me to—”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agreed, “—but why’d you do it?”

“I didn’t want my fucking dad to fracture her eye socket!” Billy told him, squirming under the covers to muffle his voice.

“...jesus,” Steve whispered. “But you did all this for her, right. She moved in with you?”

“I got an apartment,” Billy mumbled. “Ditched my roommates.”

“...so you did it to help her.”

“I had to,” Billy groaned. “The hell was I gonna say?”

“You could have called the police?” Steve suggested.

“What, wait until he does it?!”

“No!” Steve laughed, sounding a little raw himself. “But all this—all these—all this you do, you do for her? You do all this to help her, right?”

Billy narrowed his eyes. “What’s your point?”

“Why can’t she help you?”

“She’s a kid!”

“...can I see you? Can I meet you somewhere?”

Billy cleared his throat, again. “Yeah. Yes. Let me—” he took a deep, shaky breath, and got out of bed. “Where do you want me to go?”

“...what if…” Steve trailed off, and Billy’s throat closed again, as he registered the mess he’d just dumped in a stranger’s lap. “What about a movie?” he asked, and Billy started snickering.

“You can just hang up, jesus,” he said, stretching. “When somebody starts moaning all this shit. You met me once.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, once. Liked what I saw, though.”

Billy glared at the phone, his heart pounding as he wondered whether princes actually went to some kind of charm school, specifically to cause heart attacks in Uber drivers. ‘Course, somebody smarter might not take him so serious, he realized, then groaned dramatically through his fingers. “Fine. Awesome. What movie you wanna see?”

“I do not know,” Steve said slowly. “...trying to search while I’m talking to you, and it kind of…where is there even...”

“I’ll come get you,” Billy told him, smiling irrepressibly. He ducked his head as he walked out of his bedroom, and caught the pajama pants Max threw at his face.

“The hell are you going?!” she asked, sliding across the floor in her socks to glower up at him. “No! We’re watching Die Hard! You said!”

“Gonna meet him again,” Billy said, pulling his shoes on. “He’s leaving town.”

“You’re trading your ass to your drug lord again?” she asked, sounding resigned, and Billy stared at her. “Uh-huh. Try to get twenties this time, lady at the grocery store thought I was a hooker, I think. Probably. Or I robbed a bank? Or I robbed a hooker that robbed a bank—”

“She what,” Billy mumbled, horrified, but Max shoved a handful of granola bars in his pocket, and held the door open.

“You got condoms?” she asked, her eyes narrowed, and Billy shouted back a YES, MAX, I FUCKING DO as he fled down the stairs, his cheeks burning hot.

Part One | Two | Three | Four

#harringrove #Fluff and angst #But mostly fluff #platypan

12 notes · View notes