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uncouth-the-fifth · 10 months

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click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain.

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside.

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him.

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already.

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to.

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound.

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you.

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness.

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him.

…And Sam had.

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester x reader

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gemini-sensei · 5 months

Text

Baby | Hawk Moskowitz x Teen Mom!Reader, Part 2

Ft. Johnny Lawrence ● Part One ●

Tagged: @devilslittlebabyxx, @imjustme-n

A/N: here it is. I did this instead of filming myself giving a speech so yeah. Might do a part 3 if people wanna see that. lmk ok bye <3

The next time Hawk came to training, it was oddly quiet. His friends were acting weird and his senseis were tense. Though it wasn't unusual for Mr. LaRusso to glare at the back of Sensei Lawrence's head, Hawk knew that his friends were being strange. They were giving each other looks and whispering to each other. At one point he was sure he heard Demetri seething at Robby about how "your dad has gotten into your head!"

For the most part, Hawk ignored them. He had too much on his mind to pay attention to their weird antics anyway. Besides, his birthday was coming up, so he brushed it off as something having to do with that.

His mind was occupied with thoughts of his girlfriend. He'd been helping her much more lately now that she had finally moved into her own place with her baby daughter. He'd helped her stock the fridge and pantry, watched her daughter while she showered and got ready in the morning, and helped her unpack her new place. It was a lot to adjust to and he didn't like that she was trying to do it all on her own, so he was there. She didn't have to do it alone anymore.

Part of him was still amazed by her strength and determination; it wasn't easy being a single, young mom to an infant, especially in today's economy. And her daughter, who was the most adorable baby ever, was still struggling to sleep through the night now that they had moved. He stayed the night to help out because to be so strong, Mama needed her rest too. Plus, he wanted to be there for her because he loved her so much. He also loved her daughter.

As they finished up their round of drills, he took a seat and drank some water. Their next course of action would be sparring and then he could go to Reader's apartment to spend the evening with her.

It was at this time he noticed his friends flocked together, whispering again. The more they did it, the more he didn't like it. However, before anything could be said or done, his phone rang.

It was Reader. Her caller ID popped up, a picture of her and her baby showing up and making him smile.

He answered immediately. "Hey, babe."

"Eli," her worried voice came through the phone and he was put on high alert. "My car won't start. I need you to come jump-start it, please."

If he had been holding anything else, he would have literally dropped it and left. He was on his feet in a flash and grabbing his bag. "Okay, don't worry, I'm on my way."

He didn't notice the way his friends and senseis were looking at him. How they made note of his sudden desire to leave. They weren't his concern though.

"Oh my gosh, thank you," Reader said. He heard the relief in her voice and it helped him, but she was still stranded somewhere. Then she started talking to her baby, who was likely on her hip. "You hear that, baby girl? Eli's gonna come help us."

At hearing his name, Reader's daughter squealed and clapped her hands. She loved him and knew him by name already, always excited when she heard he was coming over. It melted his heart.

"Where are you two?"

"Doctor's office," Reader said. "No one has any jumper cables, can you believe that?"

"Well, no one has as old a car as you do," he lightly joked.

She gasped playfully. "Old Reliable isn't that old."

He hummed. "Yeah, that's what you said last time when you told me that was your mom's car in high school, and yet here we are."

He dug through his duffle bag for his keys.

"I'll be there soon, okay?"

He heard her smile as she spoke. "Okay. Love you. Mwah!"

"Mwah!" her daughter did in the background.

"Love you, too," Hawk said and hung up the phone. He slipped it into his pocket, still looking for his keys. "Dammit, where'd they go?"

Mr. LaRusso walked up to him curiously. "Something wrong, Hawk?"

He looked up, a little apprehensive to share. "Uh, yeah. I gotta go. Now if only I could find my keys."

"Everything okay? Anything we can help you with?" Sam asked as she walked over. She looked all too curious for his liking and he cursed the LaRussos for being so kind and helpful because it made them snoop into everyone else's business.

"No, I don't need any help," he said, throwing his bag down to look inside of it. However, instead of anything helpful happening, it turned over and his change of clothes fell out with several other items.

Including Baby Girl's rattle.

It rolled across the patio loudly.

"I knew it!" Sensei Lawrence shouted.

Daniel turned to the man, who was pointing an accusatory finger at Hawk. "Johnny, please!"

"No, man, I was right!" He looked so smug and Hawk was so confused. "Now you have to admit that I was right, LaRusso."

"I can't believe this," Miguel said. Demetri was standing beside him with a look of disbelief. "How could you not tell us?"

"What are you talking about?" Hawk asked, grabbing the rattle and tossing it back into his bag. Reader's daughter loved throwing her toys into his bags, probably a ploy to make him have to come over and return them. At the bottom of the bag, he found his keys. "Aha."

"We're talking your baby," Sam said, using that tone that said 'obviously.'

Robby added, "And the girlfriend you didn't tell us about. At all."

Hawk turned to look at them with a furrowed brow, then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and collected his thoughts. "Okay, I think I know the problem all of you have had all day now." He looked at his friends and senseis with a slightly annoyed look but tried to keep a level head. "Yes, I have a girlfriend I didn't tell you about. I didn't tell you about her because she has a baby. Not my baby but I do help take care of her when Reader gets overwhelmed."

Johnny visibly deflated at this news. Then he stupidly asked, "You sure it's not your kid?"

"I met her after she had her daughter," Hawk nearly shouted. She grabbed his bag, held onto his keys tightly, and huffed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go jump-start Reader's car. Ask me all your questions later and let me go."

He walked to the front of Miyagi-Do without another word, leaving his closest friends, his other teammates, and Sensei Lawrence in a stupor. Then Miguel and Demetri shared a smile.

"I knew he wouldn't keep something like that from us," Miguel said.

Johnny looked at them. "Oh yeah? Then why didn't he tell us to begin with?"

Tory groaned. "Oh my god. You're all big idiots, letting something like this blind you to the truth. He didn't tell us because that's none of his business to tell! Grow a brain why don't you."

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lizlovell · 4 months

Text

You're Losing Me

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Angst//part one

part 2

summary:You and Draco grew distant for the first time ever in your relationship of two years.You are getting tired being the only one trying to fix things.

As the third week of December drew closer, the sky became gloomier with cold embracing the Hogwarts and its library became busier with scrambling students stressed out for midterm before the winter break.But this december not only brought cold to your school,but also to your relationship with Draco Malfoy,unfortunately there is no amount of sweater u can wear to recover from it.

''We both are just probably busy with studies,everything will go back to normal once the exams are over''

You try to comfort yourself as you tag your freezing hand inside your coat,remembering how Draco used to always scold you for forgetting gloves.He would hold your cold hands nonetheless,and put them in his coat for extra warmth. You felt a pang in your chest when u find yourself thinking about the memories again. No matter how hard you tried to ignore,you can't shake off the feeling of the way his eyes turned icy whenever he looks at you now.

You haven't talked to Draco properly for a week now. It's either he is studying or you are busy with essays. And in meal time in Great Hall, his cold galres and sharp replies drained your energy to talk at all. But, you can't just let it happen, not when you have spent your past two years falling head over heels for the blonde boy.So,you tried your best to pretend like nothing is wrong,like the physically painful tension between you and him doesn't exist at all. And finally,the exam is over before it snaps.

''Dray..do you wanna go to Hogsmeade together before the Christmas break? ''

His eyes are tense.His brows are frowned noticably. The pale and long fingers are folded far away from yours.

''I don't rlly know. I might have to go home ealier this year''

Lies.

''we can at least spend tonight together right?we can go to astronomy tower and-''

Then it snapped.

''No,Y/N .I don't want to. The exam just finished. Let me live''

It is like an ice bucket has poured over your head. Numb, lost and cold.

''..why'',you sobbed out .

''There is no why.I'm just tired. and we do not have anything to talk anyway,do we? Y/N...we spend our days in same routine:what's still there to talk. stop playing pretend. we both know we need some break''.

You desperately searched for any signs of intimacy in his eyes,any signs, just anything at all,but the silver orbs are colder than ever. A gust of wind rushed through and messed up his blonde locks. You felt a chill run down your spine.

''a break?''

Suddenly,everything start making sense to you. How he had time to run around from parties to parties but not for you.How his laughs faded when you entered the group conversation. How he dropped your hand in the hallway. How he hasn't hold u for a month now. The exam wasn't a cause,it was a mere excuse all along. He was falling out of love.

''not as in break but you know what i mean...'', his tone is soft with guilt lingering around. A heavy sigh left him. He gets closer to you awkwardly. Can this even be called as a hug? Instead of the warmth it used to give, it feels suffocated and forced. You shivered.

"whatever you mean Draco''

You are getting tired being the only one putting effort. Staring at his messy hair and his stressful figure, you've decided you are going to let this go. All these memories you made in two years, all the ''I can't live without you'' talk. All the sneaking between classes,making love. Love? Was it even there.

You dropped his hand. You ignored the uncertain guilt in his eyes. You turned your heel and walked away.

Draco never meant for this sort of thing to happen between two of you. You were precious. The way your soft touch traced along his face to comfort him whenever something worried him. The way you squeezed his hands with a smile whenever he felt the disappointment in himself. You saw things other could not see in him. Your lips brought love and peace he didn't even know exist in him. He didn't realize how he should be grateful for the things until they are gone. Now everything is gone. He thought he might feel free and less responsible once he is away from you. He put all of his stress and the pressure from his family on you. Merlin,he feels the terrible guilt ride in him.

He spent the entire holiday forcing himself to believe he did a right thing and he should feel more satisfied now. He didn't. His days became more terrible. He started to notice how clean his dorm used to be when you were around. He started to find himself subconciously looking for your presence in his sleep. The alone time he thought he needed start to haunt him down.

He waited. He waited for you to come back to him like you always did whenever he pushed you away. But he grew more restless day by day whenever he see you in the hallways and classes unbothered and calm sitting NOT next to him. For once in his life,Draco Malfoy knew he fucked up. He has lost you.

. . . . . . .

part 2

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader angst #harry potter fanfic #draco fanfiction

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ninapi · 6 months

Text

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ First Born❜ (Halloween Special)┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Being an older brother once more was beyond exhilarating for Choso, he never expected though to find love by his little brother's side, his pretty and kind childhood friend bringing a softness into his life he didn't know it was possible one Halloween night.

Word Count: 3243

Note: this is a Semi AU, meaning the characters are who they are in the series, yet the timeline doesn’t match the original story.

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Choso has been a big brother since he can remember, that’s his number one trait and the one he is more proud of in general.

Therefore, loosing his two younger brothers continues to sting to this day.

Gaining a ‘new brother’ or finding a ‘lost brother’ which ever you wanna call it, gave him a new sense of purpose, a new reason to live and continue growing as a person.

His number one flaw though, was how unemotional he was.

To Yuuji, Choso was embarrassing.

He never gets the jokes, more like he can’t even laugh on his own like if his face muscles were forever stiff, a spoon could get social cues better than him; he says the most embarrassing things at the worst timing too and this brings us to this moment.

Yuuji had been flirting with the girl that worked a part time at the donut shop close by for about a month. He would always stop by and buy even if it was just one donut to munch on his way to school just so he could see her smile for a couple of minutes; he even went as far as to ask for her number last time he was there; though today, Choso tagged along and was currently glaring at said beauty for getting ‘too close’ to his brother. “What is it that you want woman? I won’t let you get your smitten paws over my little brother, you hear me? You won’t ever understand how precious he is, must be protected at all cost.”

“Oh my god…just what do you think you’re doing?? Ruining my life?? Didn’t I tell you to stay outside with Fushiguro??”

“Itadori-kun, I think your brother is right, I don’t think I can handle such a precious boy….” the girl couldn’t hold her laugh any longer, same thing as her co-workers who witnessed the scene.

“That’s it. I’m never taking you out again. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get her to even look at me??” Yuuji was so disheartened, he opted to sit down on the sidewalk, contemplating the meaning of life while hating on his new older brother.

“I…I was just trying to-“

“I know, I know…just trying to be a good older brother…But have you stopped for a second and think that maybe not everyone wants to hurt me? I’m strong enough to defend myself, a pretty little thing like her wouldn’t even dream of hurting anything but my heart…” he sniffs dramatically, burying his face on his hands.

“You can die immediately if someone hurts your heart, idiot…”

This was the last drop of patience within him, “NOT literally, OK? I don’t mean my internal organ, I mean the feelings side of the heart!!”

“That’s not in your heart but your brain. You can also die if someone hurts you there-“

“Just stop talking!!!” Megumi and Nobara were both laughing their asses off at their banter, truth is Nobara saw the girl flirt with at least four different guys in just a week, she had been trying to warn her friend about her, so it was actually a good thing having dense Choso around to break the spell she had on him; that didn’t make it any less funny though.

“Itadori don’t be so hard on him, he’s pouting again.”

“I am not doing such thing-“

“Yes you are, man…” Megumi let out a deep sigh, walking on the opposite direction wanting nothing to do with the loud display of idiocy in front of him.

“Hey Fushiguro! Where are you going? We still need to discuss our plans for the party!” Yuuji yelled after him a little too loud, causing Megumi to flinch and return just to shut him up. “There’s nothing to discuss…Just be there around 9PM, you have to wear a costume or they won’t let you in, those are the rules.”

“Did you choose one already? I never pegged you for someone who’d like halloween parties~” giggling, Nobara elbowed Yuuji on the ribs wanting him to team up with her to tease their friend.

“I bet he’ll wear something ridiculous, like one of those giant carrot costumes.” bursting out laughing, both held each other from collapsing on the ground imagining carrotgumi.

“For your information, I will go as a vampire…I found dubious objects in a closet in Gojo-sensei’s, I mean back in the house…so I brought them with me for this party. Not like I want to go or anything but Maki-san threaten to shave my head in my sleep if I didn’t go…”

“Bald carrotgumi….” after one more outburst of intense laughter, the team bullying ended for the best. “I need a costume, would you go buy one with me, Kugisaki?”

All this time Choso has been quietly observing the entire thing. He knows his brother literally just said he wouldn’t take him out with him ever again, but he really wanted to prove him he could do better, that he wasn’t an embarrassment and that he was the best older brother there was to have, this was his chance. “Guys…do you think…do you think I can come with you…?”

“No, never, non, forget about it.”

“B-but…”

“Listen, you just ruined my life! How do you even think I would take you with me again?”

“Poor guy, just let him come, Itadori…he always brings the funniest of conversations out. I like him.” Choso perked up a little at the support he was getting, even if he knew all she wanted was to mock his brother, at least someone wanted him there.

“Oh c’mon….What if he ruins it again?”

“Just leave (Y/N) in baby sitting duty. She likes lost causes…” shrugging she started making her way to the costume shop, both of them tagging along.

“(Y/N)? I mean yes she does take recycling to an intense level and saves stray cats, but this is…this is something else, Kugisaki…” Choso’s lip was quivering once more, not wanting to face rejection for a third time on the same day by the person he wishes to please the most.

“Ok then how about we do this…” leaning close to Yuuji’s ear she whispers her plan with the most mischievous grin anyone has ever seen in their lives. To this Yuuji laughs for what feels like hours, having to stop in his tracks to wipe his tears away and calm down. “Ok, ok let’s ask him…” going over to his older brother, Yuuji bats his eyelashes prettily up at him, “Nii-chan…you can go…if you go dressed as the carrot Fushiguro isn’t wearing…”

Choso just nodded eagerly, not fully understanding what he was getting himself into.

“Also, I won’t let you follow me around, I wanna get a girl in my bed by tonight, and you can’t stop me. I’ll ask my best friend to look after you. Understood?” this definitely wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted bonding time with his brother, have a nice time, maybe drink one of those beers he introduced him to the other day, not having to stay behind away from the fun dressed as a commonly disliked vegetable…but it was the chance he was looking for to prove he could behave.

“Is that a yes? Or-?”

“Yes, I will go.” Nobara was on her phone browsing for carrot costumes, not long after running on her way to the shop.

This would be a long night..

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The night was young, every known sorcerer and their friends and family were invited to this party.

Yuuji chose to dress as werewolf, while Nobara went dressed as a sexy nurse.

Choso though…let’s just say the carrot outfit didn’t suit him that well…

Wanting to get rid of him as soon as possible, Yuuji stopped you right at the entrance with a big grin plastered on his face. “(Y/N) my darling! My bestie! The light that shines above us…!”

“What do you want now-“ he was being too obvious, he only acts this way when he wants either money or nasty favors.

“Have you met my brother yet?”

“Your what-? I’ve lived next door my entire life and I’ve never seen a brother of yours-“ covering your mouth almost instantly, he glared at you, trying to get you to play along.

“O-oh…yes your brother! You told me about him the other day. No, I haven’t had the pleasure to meet him yet!” smiling on his direction, you walked over to him, taking both of his hands in yours.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to finally meet you! By the way, what an adorable outfit you brought today! I wish I knew about them before, then we could have been two carrots instead of just one!” giggling at how good you were handling his worst nightmare, Yuuji sneaks away without you noticing; thing is, not only did you not notice, but neither did Choso, and that had never happen before.

“They also had tomatoes and an eggplant, but that one was too little, it would probably fit you though.” He nodded in thought, unable to figure out why the thought of you dressed like a tiny eggplant sounded so appealing. Was this why his brother wanted him to be a carrot? Did he actually look cute?

“I would have loved to be an eggplant! We could take a bunch of pictures, probably even win the costume contest!” your soft laughter brought a smile to his face, he’s never been treated this nicely before.

“What are you supposed to be though?” he eyed you from head to toe, making you blush. “I’m Godzilla~” you posed, letting out a cute little roar, his heart skipped a beat, cuteness has never been his thing but he could see the appeal of it now.

“I apologize, I do not know what that is, but it’s certainly cuter than an eggplant. They don’t make sounds...” his comment made you giggle giddily, why did Yuuji dislike him this much? He’s such a sweetheart…

“Hmm Godzilla is…a monster…he destroys cities and kicks buildings.” you tried your best to imitate it properly, earning a smile from him once more, making you feel accomplished.

“So like a curse? I’m half curse-” he looked at you with his eyes wide opened in realization.

“Nah, more like a cute big animal lost in a city full of ants.” he nods at this, before pointing to a table by the door. “They had animal shaped cookies in a bowl over there.” he didn’t know why but he felt the need to make you smile some more, to make you feel comfortable in his presence unlike the rest of his brother’s friends and seemed like you liked animals enough to dress like one.

“Do they? I bet they’re adorable. Would you like to eat some with me?” the way your eyes twinkled at this little piece of information made his stomach feel hollow, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, he kind of wanted to feel more of this, so he went over the table and poked all the cookies from the bowl until he was sure he’s gotten at least one of every single animal available in it.

Megumi, who was sitting at the top of the stairs hiding from a drunk panda who was trying to get him to kiss his cousin, saw the entire scene unfold, and decided to intervene before Itadori ruined his moment if he caught him. “Choso…stop touching all the food just grab a handful she’ll like it anyways, trust me.” to his advice he nodded gratefully, making sure to grab some drinks as well.

“Here, I couldn’t find the elephant, I was sure I saw one when I went by that table earlier, apologies for not getting you the complete set. I got you some melon soda though, I hope you like it.” the back of his neck felt hot, he continued wondering why he wanted to please you this bad, is not like you were his little sister, not like he wanted you to be his sister- he wouldn’t be able to last a day before dying of cuteness overload.

“Don’t worry! I’m sure Mr.elephant found a nice home in someone else’s belly.” chuckling you grabbed a little bear cookie and pressed it to his lips, “Try it! It’s yumyum~” you danced happily at the taste, wanting to share the joy a good high quality cookie can bring to someone’s life.

To this he just gave out a short nod, getting the entire cookie into his mouth. This was all so new to him, was this why his brother kept insisting in taking a girl to his bed?

What would they even do there?

He would like to take you to his and eat elephant shaped cookies, maybe even talk a little, or watch a movie, he’s been really into them since his brother introduced him to horror films.

“Hey (Y/N) would you like to go to my room? It’s a bit far but we could walk there-“ before he could continue his sentence, a shoe came flying straight to his face, Megumi coming to pull him to the side, “I’m borrowing him for just a second (L/N), be right back.”

He took Choso outside, away from prying eyes, a deep scowl on his face, “What on earth are you doing? You spend too much time with Itadori, he’s rubbing on you…”

“I thought you’re supposed to take nice girls to your bed…”

“I..ugh..WhAT? Who told you that? Never mind don’t answer…” letting out a long sigh he plops down on a bench prompting Choso to the same. “Look, man…it is true I guess, though the order is wrong. Remember how your brother talked to the same girl for months just to get her to like him?” nodding his head he was taking mental notes, Megumi rarely took his time to teach him anything, this must not go to waste.

“When you think a girl is nice or cute, pretty even. When she’s nice to you as well and you feel like you want more of her…” his nodding intensified, it was as if he was reading his mind, describing just how he was feeling that same moment.

“You have to treat her right, make nice things for her, be patient, don’t do anything impulsive. Girls are more delicate, you can’t be rough with them. Got it?”

“I knew it. I should have looked for that elephant cookie some more…”

A rare smile appeared on Megumi’s face, Choso has been nothing but a pain to them when it doesn’t come to fighting, but he’s never seen this soft side of him, or maybe he had, just that Itadori always shuts him down unlike you.

“Yeah well, maybe next time you can buy her a bag, I’m sure the elephant will be there.” his eyes opened widely, he hadn’t thought about that, fantastic idea.

“You’re a great guy, Fushiguro, I appreciate your advise. I can be your older brother too, if you ever need one...” with a small smile on his face, Megumi walked away back to his room, he'd have enough of this party already.

“Go back to her, before someone steals her away~” running back inside, his heart came back to his body when he saw you patiently waiting for him inside, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I have returned. Fushiguro just told me we can find the elephant cookie if I get you a new pack of cookies. Would you like to go buy one with me?”

“Right now?” that smile of yours will end up causing him heart failure, he was sure of that now.

“Or later, when you have time, if you want that is…we can also go back for the eggplant dress, if you’re tired of being Godzilla.” It was pretty obvious to you by now that he was trying to get you out of this party, you weren’t what others would call a 'party animal’, you only went because your best friend called you over; the same best friend who’s been flirting with every single girl in the room and has not addressed you for the longest time.

“I think they sell them in the supermarket down the street, lets go~!” pulling him by his hand, you both walked in silence as none of you knew what to say.

“So, how is Yuuji as a younger brother? If he’s mean to you tell me, I will kick his ass…” you knew your bestie, he could be really sweet as much as he can be a real ass when he wants to be.

“He’s great. I wish we could get along better though…but it’s hard to know what he wants. I wished everyone would be happy with animal cookies…”

“I think it’s easy getting along with you though. You’re sweet and gentle, funny too.” Choso has never been complimented before, not like this at least…was this what his brother called ‘flirting’?

“I…well I think you are all those things too…nobody has ever treated me this nice before…” his comment managed to sadden you more than anything, stopping you on your tracks to place a hand on his cheek gently.

“Then how about we see each other some more? I need you to see how special you are.” your smile was so bright, so comforting…his chest ached but in a pleasant way, he kind of wanted to rip his own heart out just to see the chemical reaction occurring within his body in this very second, his blood even felt more powerful, he could kill Gojo Satoru right now, he was sure of it. But all he wanted was to count cookies with you while looking at the night sky.

“Can we? See each other again? I mean after the cookies...?”

“Of course! Lets do all sorts of things together! Have you ever been to a theme park? Maybe I can get the eggplant costume and we could both go dressed as vegetables, that’d be fun!” your arm wrapped around his as you walked towards the supermarket.

“I’ve never been to one, no.”

“Then we totally have to go! We could play some video games too! Oh and we definitely need to go to that new crepe place down town, I heard you need a reservation and all!”

“Why do you want to go with me to all those places?” he was honestly confused, he’s been facing so much rejection that this fuzzy feeling in his chest was starting to cause some concern.

“That’s what friends do, right? Besides, I think you’re really cute…maybe…we could…you know…one of those days we go out…only if you’d like of course…we could maybe say it’s a date?” you smiled nervously up at him, he’s never seen such beauty in his entire life, not even the drawing his little brother made for him when they were little was this pretty. “I would like that very much…”

Being the first born of four brothers had its benefits as much as it has its flaws, but tonight he was sure of one thing, he was glad of getting in his little brothers nerves enough to get him to dump him with the cutest girl his eyes had ever lay on.

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Masterlist

174 notes · View notes

ratcatcher0325 · 8 months

Text

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #31)

Chapter #31. ... Something Wicked this way comes... Or so Alexander thinks. Who is at Nat's door?

So this is by far my longest chapter yet! I guess that makes up for how long it took me to write and edit it? Maybe? Anyway thanks for continuing to read!! I love and appreciate you all!

Previous: Chapter #30

Next: Chapter #32

Word Count: 10,045 Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins

CW: adult language

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A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #31: The Pricking of Thumbs... and Eyes

[Alexander’s POV]

I strained to listen through the bedroom door, thicker than I measured shoulder to shoulder, through walls of drywall and insulation, through distance. While it was only a few dozen steps for the human who’d just told me to hide, it may as well have been the better part of a mile for me.

Damn my little frame!

My throat tightened as my spinal column was washed with adrenaline. What was happening out there? Was she okay? What was my best course of action? On the desktop I had the advantage of some height, sure, but I was also a sitting duck, with no chance to outrun a pair of malicious human hands if it were to come down to that. Did I risk clamoring to the floor? Or did that just guarantee my doom, underfoot? Down there, I’d have more places to hide out of sight before springing into action with this makeshift weapon I currently hefted under my arm. If push came to shove, would I be able to get to her in time to make any difference at all? Even if I crashed my way into the room with two absolutely massive beings before me, was there anything I could do to help?

My few milliseconds for strategizing were abruptly cut short as the creak of the door opening far off in the distance hit my ears. My blood froze in my veins and I admit, I held my breath as I ground my heels into the wood of the desk, waiting to discover what was taking place far beyond where I stood.

The door opened. I strained, wincing and wishing I wasn’t banished to this far off room, like some weak little coveted prize to be stashed away when danger called. I couldn’t be certain, but I swore I heard a gasp.

Her gasp.

My heart thundered ever more feverishly. That was it. I had to do something. Anything. Even if it got me killed. I would not lie down and cower in fear like some weak little waste of oxygen. If she needed my help, I’d try my damndest to give it.

Without a second thought, I hobbled over to the edge of her desk, contemplating the cables I’d shimmied down once before. I now had the much more logistically challenging job of navigating this vertical drop with a letter opener towering a whole 3 inches above my head and mobility aid tucked under my arm. I heard a shuffling of feet as I swung my own over the cliff’s edge that was the desk’s ledge. I tried not to think about how a drop from this height could kill me as I heard her exclaim, “What the fuck? What’re you doing here?” Was this someone she knew? To my ears, it didn’t sound good.

I needed to move, and quickly. I heard a male voice, deep and wholly unfamiliar ring in response, but I hardly had the bandwidth to pick up on his exact words. I managed to hear “Worried… Own good… Don’t freak out…” I launched myself over the edge, both hands gripping the cord as I swung precariously, trying not to drop the two objects carefully hooked under my right shoulder joint and pressed to my side with the crook of my elbow. I had to make sure to apply adequate pressure to keep them from slipping.

Hand under fist, I began to slowly lower myself down the length of the cord. The progress was abysmally slow. I bared my teeth, sweat forming on my brow, as a muscular burning began to blossom in my shoulders and arms. No! Not now, I’ve only just begun my descent.

I pictured Natalie’s face in my mind. I’d no doubt she could hold her own quite well. The incident with the driver in her alley and her unapologetic shouting match with the impatient man came immediately to the forefront of my thoughts. She did not hesitate to come to her own defense, and I knew that. What she’d failed to remember when she’d commanded me to hide myself away, is that I would not hesitate to do the same.

I was ripped back to reality by two concurrent events that occupied my full attention. First, I could feel my crutch slipping dangerously from my hold on it, threatening to fall out of my grip entirely, as my arms shook with the effort to hold myself aloft. I could hardly afford to risk letting go with one arm to catch it, let alone be able to twist around in time to stop its fall. I doubted I’d be able to support my full weight with just one fist gripping tightly to the slippery rubber casing of a wire. Yet, if it tumbled to the ground, and out of reach, I’d be royally screwed in trying to hobble even a few paces.

As I hung in place, tightening the pressure between my elbow and ribs to try to keep the objects from falling, the second event tore me away from my current disaster unto another. There were footsteps, loud and unmistakable, thundering toward the door. This human, whoever he was, would be bursting through the threshold in only a few seconds’ time, judging by the cacophony of shoes on wood flooring.

I was much too high off the ground to risk jumping, but too far down to have enough time to clamor back up again. This was a huge mistake. I was stuck, midair, probably about level with the average human’s thigh, swinging uselessly, and utterly exposed. Like ripe fruit ready to be plucked from its vine, I was at high risk of being snatched up.

Steel yourself, Alexander, now’s not the time for succumbing to fear. I had a weapon after all, and a sharp one at that.

The gigantic footfalls continued with ever growing intensity in my direction. The stranger’s voice seemed far too casual and familiar for my liking, “Aww, come on, I gotta see what’s been goin’ on… what’re you trying to hide?” Who was this man? Why was she not stopping him and what gave him any right to invade her home on such unexpected notice, no less?

What was she trying to hide? Me. You unwelcome invader of privacy. She’s trying to hide me. So much for keeping out of plain sight and giving her peace of mind.

“No, you really don’t! N-no I’m not hiding– I just… now’s not a good time and–” Her voice was softer than his, quieter and more distant. He was charging ahead and she was scrambling after him. What was wrong with this human? Did he not know how to listen?

The footfalls were so close now, I could feel them as they ricocheted through the hardwood floor of the hall, and shook my makeshift climbing rope ever so slightly.

How embarrassing. Just their steps were enough to rock me to and fro like a fragile leaf on the breeze. I swallowed hard. This was it. In the next millisecond I’d be face to face… well… make that face to body with an unknown enemy.

I gripped tighter, tucking the cable between the sole of one shoe and the toe of the other, so that I didn’t have to bear all my weight with just my arms. This muscular effort tweaked my injured leg, as my trembling hands gained some small relief. With my crutch still barely able to balance, I readied myself to use my weapon if needed. I was almost certain it would be needed.

That’s when he crashed through the door.

He towered over me, of course. The gusts of wind generated from his massive form erupting into the room threw my hair about my face and made me grit my teeth. Why did humans have to be so big?!

He stopped just inside the doorway, his left thigh upsettingly close, yet maybe just an inch or so shy of being within stabbing range. Damn. Still, he was much too near for my liking. I could practically smell him. Was that fresh soap and a hint of cinnamon? I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

He hadn’t noticed me yet: of course not, I was far below his eye line, why would he? He stood comfortably, as if he owned the place. He looked a few years older than Natalie, perhaps about my age, though it was impossible to know for sure. His bespectacled visage was bright, excitable. He seemed amused, as he cast his gaze around. His beard, dark in color, just like his neat, tightly curled hair, was cut close to his jawline. The wide-necked cable-knit sweater he wore sported a geometric pattern in black, royal blue and crisp white. His left hand relaxed inside the pocket of his corduroy slacks, as he took in the room before him.

I hated him at first glance.

He played the part of a perfect Nantucket dandy, clearly hailing from wealth, and with the added benefit of an Ivy League university education, he seemed out of place in Natalie’s humble living conditions. Everything about him oozed with pretension and privilege. And yet, the two of them seemed well acquainted, so there must’ve been some common ground.

While this strange and wholly unwelcome intruder delighted in the view, my muscles were screaming for relief. Sweat poured from my brow and down the back of my neck. My arms, in spite of my best efforts, were starting to tremble and that damned cane was ever closer to tipping out of my grasp and down to the floor, a deadly distance away. I couldn’t hold on for much longer, but I’d be damned if I’d let this supercilious interloper’s first encounter with me be one of pitying condescension because I required any form of assistance.

A moment after he’d paused in the doorway, the third party in this equation, and second human, my human, practically crashed into him in her hurried attempt to stop him in his tracks. Great job, on that front, Natalie. She managed to stop just short of colliding directly into his back by gripping to the threshold of the door and halting her momentum. Much to my surprise, I noticed she was significantly shorter than him. Was Natalie short? That seemed impossible, given just how towering she was to me. Or was this unannounced visitor just abnormally tall? From my vantage point they both may as well have been city buildings, so the difference hardly mattered.

I watched as her eyes flitted feverishly over the desk’s surface, no doubt searching for me. She was red faced and breathless. I couldn’t tell if she was more relieved or panicked by not knowing where I was. Maybe luck was on my side and I’d go unnoticed by them both, left to gasp and tend to my sore muscles in the sanctity and peace of a humanless space. She sucked in air as if about to speak, no doubt to usher him out of the room, when he, oblivious, his back to both of us, cut her off.

“Damn Nat, since when did you start picking up? This place always looked like a tornado blew through here but now it should be on the cover of a home decor magazine or something… What’s changed?” Me. I’m the change that made her clean up her pigsty of a home. You’re welcome. If I hadn’t been convinced already, it was painfully clear now that these two knew each other. He had this smug, easy going familiarity about him that made the bile rise in my throat. Who did this man think he was, waltzing into Natalie’s home uninvited and entirely unexpected and then parading around as if he owned the place? Was he expecting to stay for dinner? Spend the weekend on her couch? How dare he interrupt her work, our work, as if we had nothing better to do with our day than entertain him!

I glanced over at Natalie, she didn’t seem the least bit offended or wary of his presence. So he’d been an unplanned but not altogether shocking visitor? How often did this stranger make himself comfortable in her home? They must’ve been quite close if he had unfettered access to her space and had been here frequently enough to note her change in personal organization. Why hadn't she mentioned him before?

As he spoke, he took another step into the space and went so far as to sweep a finger tip across the surface of her dresser to check for dust, his expression one of impressed intrigue (as he should be, that was my meticulous and thorough dusting he was observing).

While he remained occupied, I suddenly felt the invasion of her gaze alighting on me. She finally spotted me, dangling there like some marionette in the world’s most boring puppet show.

Her eyes bulged from her skull, as she set her jaw and her nostrils flared in that capricious way she always did when she was upset with me, which was infuriatingly often.

Her gaze flitted with anxious intensity from my dangling form to the back of this other human, and then returned to me. With a frantic, utterly confounded gesture she mouthed at me with a serpent’s intensity “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I hissed back, the heat in my face beginning to rise, “What am I doing? Why is he–” I jutted my chin in the stanger’s direction, which I immediately regretted as the force of my gesture forced me to swing in counterbalance, making the challenge of keeping my grip steady and the objects in my arms from falling all the more difficult, “--even here?” I cast my eyes down to the letter opener, and then back to her, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m protecting you!”

Somehow, her eyes managed to widen even farther as her gaze followed mine toward the letter opener in my grip, its blade as long as I was tall, sharp and menacing, “Don’t you dare! Alexander! No! Do NOT.”

While she spat through gritted teeth, she made all kinds of emphatic gestures: shaking her head, swiping her hand in one fell motion across her throat, and staring daggers at me. If she hadn’t learned by now that telling me what to do would get her absolutely nowhere, then there really was no hope for her. If the man deserved to be stabbed, a stabbing he would get. Simple as that.

She seemed to read my mind, “Alexander–” She was about to continue, her eyes narrowed to slits, even taking half a step in my direction, no doubt on the verge of expressing more disapproval for my very reasonable reaction to an invader in her home, or perhaps to simply snatch me up and disarm me, which I was prepared to fight tooth and nail over. Just as she drew another breath, however, the seemingly spatially unaware invader himself, clearly having no idea of this fiercely whispered conversation behind his back, uttered a noise of delight and intrigue which made both our heads whip in his direction.

“Oh! This is adorable!” During the length of our heated exchange, our interloper had graduated from the dresser to the bedside table, where he was now leaning, hands on knees, marveling at the miniature wonder that was my neatly made bed, my dresser, and a few other furniture items, all to my scale: my open air bedroom of sorts. Oh give me a break! Have you never seen a bed before? What’s wrong with you?

Defensively, Natalie stepped in his direction, still trying to keep my presence a secret; a smart move if his fascination with just my furniture was any indication of how he’d react to seeing me. A few beads of sweat traced down my spine as I grit my teeth, struggling to hold on. He continued to stare, adjusting his glasses for a better look, “What’s all this for? It’s so cute!” Come back over here and I’ll show you cute.

Realizing with simultaneous intuition that we had about half a second before he’d turn over his shoulder to look back in her direction, we exchanged a swift, knowing glance before she turned on her heel, and planted herself firmly between him and my hiding spot, obscuring me from view.

“Oh! All that? It’s… nothing… I thought my niece might like them, I just haven’t wrapped them up for her yet…” Ah yes, thank you Natalie, for reminding me that I and your niece’s playthings could do a furniture swap if we wanted. Excellent. At least she was giving me a chance to escape my predicament. She got points for that.

I wasted no time in re-engaging my muscles for the upward climb. As my shoulder joints buckled, I felt my stomach drop. Did I have the strength to pull myself up?

Now was not the time for doubt. I had to try.

She continued to cover for me, speaking louder than was normal, as I made laughably little progress towards the lip of the desk, “Anyway, look, I really appreciate you coming to check on me. You have literally been saving my ass with the lectures and stuff, I owe you, big time…” My whole body was trembling, my breath escaping my lungs in ragged gasps, my hands, now slick with sweat, were struggling to maintain traction, as my hurt leg burned from the far too great strain I was putting on it just to keep from slipping. As I struggled against gravity, Natalie crossed the room to the other human, trying her damndest to usher him toward the door.

I was only a bit too preoccupied at the moment to clock whether her encouragement was proving successful. Hand over fist, feet wrapped tightly around the thick, rubber casing, I was getting ever closer to sweet relief. Only about two inches of distance left. I could do this.

No sooner had I encouraged myself, than my next handhold gave way and I was left to cling fast by one arm, as I instinctively hugged the letter opener and cane to my chest with my now free hand, both objects swaying wildly along the same pendulum trajectory of my own form. My heart rate spiked and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to make a sound as I happened to peer down at the floor, seemingly a million miles below me. That was close. Taking advantage of the gravitational force that bandied me about, I managed to grab back on with my right hand.

Okay, crisis averted, I could do this.

“...But, you did your check-up on me and as you can see I’m totally fine, so…”

Nevermind. I could not do this.

No sooner had I steeled myself for the homestretch, my grip gave way again and this time I had much less luck in righting myself. My favored hand, my left, failed me, as did my foothold. I was now dangling, precariously, by one arm, legs flailing, as I swung with a violent rhythm. But that wasn’t the end of my troubles. In my scramble to right myself, my movement was enough to finally knock the crutch from my grasp.. and down, down, down it fell.

"...Thanks for stopping by. Like I said I do have a bunch of shit to do today–” CLANG!!!

The aluminum cane collided with the metal rim of the trash can below. My shoulders flew up to my ears as I cringed and grit my teeth.

So much for keeping a low profile.

The gasp of pure delight that came from the man across the room made my stomach churn, as I hung, wrapped tightly around the cable, my one line of defense still pressed between my chest and arm. The speed with which he turned on his heel, alerted by the sound I’d accidentally made, only to almost instantaneously break into a, frankly, disturbingly joyful smile made my countenance twist into a snarl. He practically bounded over to me, with so much enthusiasm that his footfalls shook me from head to toe.

Why, oh why, did I ever delude myself into thinking the company of humans was ever worthwhile?

Much to my utter frustration and embarrassment, all my swinging and thrashing about for a steady hold left the wire above me twisted, and, therefore, I found myself being turned so that his rapidly approaching gigantic face was greeted with only my back.

This was all much too humiliating. I kicked and writhed in a minimally successful attempt to right myself. What I was greeted with made me regret the effort.

His bespectacled gaze was a mere few inches from my body, his dark eyes, widened and glowed with patronizing fascination.

“Awwwww…” His voice was booming, the intensity of his stare far too all-encompassing, he was close enough that I could smell him, that hint of soap and cinnamon striking my nostrils like a biochemical warning signal. He smiled, his massive eyes staring directly down into mine, “You need help, there, little buddy?” I could practically feel the steam erupting from my ears. Before I even had a chance to snap back, the pad of a finger, huge, rough and jarring, pressed into my ribs to turn me fully about.

I writhed away from his touch, swinging to and fro and snarling, “DO NOT TOUCH ME.” Even a rattlesnake gives one fair warning before he strikes, this is mine and you’d do well to adhere to its call.

Simultaneously with my outburst Natalie stepped forward, clearly forecasting what was to come. She knew me well enough by now to know just how I would take such condescension. As she came forward, I felt myself tensing, Don’t you dare swoop in and rob me of my moment. I don’t need your help here, I’m well armed and perfectly capable. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, hungering for the now inevitable moment of confrontation with a being twelve times larger than myself.

She continued to close the distance between us, and I couldn’t help noticing how her hand rested on his trapezius muscle with easy familiarity. She glared at him, an eyebrow raised “Yeah. Don’t, dude. Don’t do that…” Her eyes darted from him to me, her right hand poised to reach forward and tear me away. As much as I relished the idea of not having to hang here any longer, I craved the opportunity to give this dimwit a piece of my mind with far greater fervor.

But it seemed unnecessary for me to advocate on my own behalf, because he immediately laid the groundwork of his own demise, “Aw, come on, Nat. Don’t stress. I’ve got this. Just watch, we’re gonna be the best of friends after today, aren’t we? Aren’t we little fella?” How perfect. Keeping digging your own grave, you cable-knit clown.

He stared expectantly, awaiting a response. His brows furrowed when he received nothing but an unrelenting glare from me, “He’s not much of a talker, huh?” His eyes darted uncomfortably away from my stone cold stare, as he looked to Natalie for an explanation.

“Quite the opposite, actually. That’s why I’m worried…”

“Aww, don’t be! I’m not gonna hurt him!”

“… for you, jackass. You’ve pissed him off into silent rage, that’s a level farther than even I’ve gotten.”

The bespectacled man burst into laughter. Not only did the volume at this distance threaten to blow out my eardrums, but the boiling of my blood quickened my heart rate and I couldn’t help but snarl. The ignoramus wiped a tear from his eye and managed to speak between bouts of belly laughter, “You’re joking, right? That’s adorable! Uh oh, somebody’s grumpy! We all better be very afraid!” He threw his hands up in mock terror. His voice cascaded and echoed in a sing-songy voice reserved for the condescension of human babies or cute animals. Come just a little closer, you ignorant bastard, I dare you.

“I’m gonna say this one more time, you’re gonna regret saying shit like that, I promise. So either move and let me disarm him, or you’ll see what happens when you piss him off!”

Another round of incredulous laughter. Could he manage to be any louder and more obnoxious? I highly doubted it. He continued, unphased by Natalie’s apt warning, “Look at him! He’s harmless! What’s he gonna do? That letter opener is bigger than he is. I’m actually surprised he’s even able to hold it!” You’ll be even more surprised how much force I can put behind it when its razor edge sinks into your flesh, “Yeah, you’re not gonna hurt me, are ya? I bet you’re just a sweet little guy, deep down. I just frightened you, is all. Don’t be scared…” Scared?! Who did he think he was dealing with? “Did you drop something? Here lemme help you….”

He sank all the way to his knees now, searching the carpet fibers for my long lost cane. I waited, practically salivating in anticipation. He rose back to a neutral spine, his knees still planted in the carpet, as he held the walking aide triumphantly between finger and thumb, it looking no more durable than a twig in his massive grip. He grinned brightly, clearly pleased with himself. Alright, just a little closer…

He waved it wildly in front of my face, like teasing a dog with a stick before playing fetch. Needless to say I was less than amused. He leaned forward, to place it on the surface of the desk behind me. Yes, you’re doing great, A+ for hitting your mark. You’re almost exactly where I want you to be. Just a tiny bit closer… His massive face was mere inches from mine, I could see every pore, every eyelash, every detail I’m sure most humans would prefer to be left to the imagination. He was so near I could feel the cascading tide of his breath stirring tendrils of my hair. He looked down at me, his dark brown eyes bright with bubbly self satisfaction, “There ya go. See? We can be friends. I’m not out to getcha…” As soon as the object clattered to the wooden surface, his hand descended from over my head, careening down, closer and closer until his fingers were right on top of me, aiming for my hair. Was this man about to try and pet me?!

Without a second’s hesitation, I wrapped my right arm firmly around the chord, hefted the letter opener over my head, tucked it securely on my left side, and then shoved it forward with all my might.

The trajectory of the weapon was suddenly halted when its point hit home, jarring my shoulder as it absorbed the ricochet of force.

This four-eyed Polyphemus roared in shock and surprise, his hand flying up to the origin of sudden pain. The letter opener had glanced off the rim of his glasses, and the blade hit its mark just an inch or so shy of his right ocular organ. He whipped away, batting the letter opener as he went with such force that he very nearly pulled the weapon and me right along with him, but, somehow, in spite of our significant disparity in strength, I managed to hold fast.

His initial exclamation, loud enough to deafen me, was not one of articulate words, but rather garbled shouting. He’d flung himself backwards, crumpled in a heap on the floor.

And thus, Saint George slayed the dragon.

Did I feel a swell of pride enlarge my chest? You bet I did.

Raising my voice over the din, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME, YOU INSUFFERABLE WRETCH!” I couldn’t help but laugh as I swung on the wire, all muscular exhaustion temporarily forgotten in the wake of this newfound excitement.

“ALEXANDER!!!” Uh oh.

Here came Natalie, her shadow casting a pall, literally and figuratively, over my gleeful celebration. She was pissed. I didn’t care.

Meanwhile, her friend had scrambled across the carpet until his head crashed into the dresser behind him, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?! HE ALMOST STABBED ME IN THE EYE!” The timbre of his voice had gone from saccharinely sweet baby talk to one of whiny disdain and flustered disbelief. He pointed at me emphatically with his free hand, looking to Natalie for some sort of recompense.

I beat her to the punch.

“WHAT DID I SAY? HM? WHAT DID I TELL YOU? I WARNED YOU!!!” I shouted across the cavern between myself and him, until my throat was raw. By this time, Natalie had fully crossed the few feet between her dresser and desk, settling before me on her knees, her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched.

“Alexander! Hush! You’ve done enough damage already…” Her fingers descended around me, her thumbs pressing into my sternum and across my abdomen, her coinciding index fingers reaching under my arms and just above my hips to support my weight. Her grip was a bit harder and swifter than I’d become used to. She was trying to pluck me up quickly, and I sensed it wasn’t simply due to a desire to relieve me of holding myself up.

Nevertheless, I was grateful for the relief, letting out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding. Carefully, she untangled me from the wire and shifted me to a seated position in her right palm. As she gathered me in her hand, she paused just long enough to cast a glance over her shoulder, “He did warn you though, like, in a multitude of ways…”

“Ha! See??” I burst with pride, unable to keep a wide grin from painting my features.

She whipped around immediately, “Oh shut up, Alexander,” She pointed her index finger at my chest, “You’re in as much trouble as he is! He was being a fucking ass, yes, but you didn’t have to shank him! Give me that!!” Her finger and thumb dove for the plastic handle of my weapon, still dutifully tucked under my arm.

I resisted, jerking my shoulder in the opposite direction, “Me? What did I do except protect myself… and you?”

She looked utterly incredulous, motioning with a sweeping, exaggerated gesture at the injured party, who had now managed to scramble to his feet, examining his battle wound in the vanity mirror, “You STABBED my fucking friend! That’s the TA!”

I was baffled by this newfound information.

“THAT’S the TA? Who’s been sending the taped lectures and keeping your attendance afloat? That pretentious imbecile? Well, he shouldn’t have been so condescending to me! And… besides, you could’ve led with that, you know! Maybe then I’d have gone for his hands instead!” I found myself escalating in volume as I spoke, getting increasingly more emphatic, until I was practically shouting.

“You didn’t give me a chance before you went all Zorro on his ass!!!!!”

“What’s Zorro?!?!?”

“Oh my god! Give me the sharp object Alexander, do not make me pry it out of your tiny little hands!” My face flushed hot. I knew she was keenly aware I resented that completely unnecessary addition of ‘tiny’ and ‘little’ into her request. Nothing about me was little, everything and everyone else was just huge. End of story.

She held out her free hand, flat, just below my chest, raising one eyebrow expectantly. I held off for a second, then another, “ALEXANDER!” Fine!

I trusted our intruder understood his limits now and would not be making the same mistake twice. I relented, laying the slightly bloodied object across her fingers. She pursed her lips as if to say “That’s what I thought.” I had a feeling she had a few choice words for me after this unexpected visit. No matter. I regretted nothing.

“Uh, Nat?” It’s bleeding… like a lot…” His voice from across the room drew our attention once more. He turned over his shoulder as he spoke, revealing a rivulet of blood springing from his cheek, down the fingers he’d pressed against it to staunch the flow, and down farther still, staining his pristine, white, woolen collar.

“Fuck!” Natalie practically groaned, before flashing me an extremely dirty look, “Here, lemme… uh, here…” she half rose, seeming to suddenly remember she was holding me. With a grimace, she set me down somewhat roughly on the desktop. She wasted no time in quickly swiping the letter opener up and away from my grasp, before securing it in the back pocket of her jeans. Taking a quick glance around, she decided to pluck up the entire metal cup of pens and other writing utensils, “Please, just stay right here.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. When she realized that was all she was going to get from me, she rolled her eyes and sighed.

With that she rushed over to her friend who was cupping his other hand beneath the first to catch drops of crimson as they fell. She threw the pencil holder down on the vanity and ushered him hurriedly to the bathroom, turning over her shoulder and pointing both fingers at her eyes, before reversing the gesture to be aimed at me. I held my hands up, what could I possibly do now? I was unarmed, and stranded. The object of my disdain far away from my radius for harm.

As they retreated, I heard the wounded man grumble, “Fuck! He’s a little… demon!!” I had the sense that a different word had come to mind first, but he’d chosen the latter.

“… Yeah, believe me, I know…” Hey! Natalie, you’re supposed to be on my side!

“Why in the hell do you keep him around, then?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but, believe it or not, he actually kinda grows on you after a while.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should I be offended or flattered?

“I can’t believe he actually stabbed me…” And I’d do it again without hesitation.

After that, their voices became so muffled beyond the partially closed bathroom door that it was hardly worth straining to listen.

I sat alone, isolated and small, feeling a burning sensation in all my exhausted muscle groups, as my heart and lungs worked to steady themselves to a more even tempo. The gift of solitude meant that I no longer had to maintain my composure. I collapsed back onto an elbow, breath coming in ragged fits and starts, no longer having to maintain a defensive stance. Air couldn’t come fast enough as I choked and sweat dripped in my eyes and down my back and neck. My arms and legs were spasming as I tried my best to come down from the excitement of all that had just transpired. Damn, my leg hurt. Everything hurt. I focused on my breathing for a few moments, eyes craned to the ceiling so far above where I lay. I was utterly exhausted. A long rest in my bed which had been the object of such condescension and ridicule just a while ago sounded utterly delightful. But what could I do? I had no means of crossing the vast room in any practical way. I was much too pathetically little for such luxuries of inhabiting two different corners of a room with ease. As if I needed any more reminders today of how small I was. What was a man in my situation to do but sit and ponder? I had no other recourse, after all.

So, this was her friend who’d helped make all this time working from home possible? I was beginning to think Natalie had very poor taste in friends. I wrinkled my nose in disgust remembering how his eyes had lit up in fascination like I was some shiny, new, coveted object. What was wrong with humans? What was so delightfully fascinating about me anyway? In any case, he got exactly what was coming to him.

The muffled sound of voices honed into sharp focus as, suddenly, a voice with a male timbre could be heard whining, “Fuck! OWWW!!!”

A female voice followed with zero hesitation, “Oh don’t be such a fucking baby!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. You got what you deserved, you overly enthused idiot. Of course, in fairness to him, I knew firsthand how dangerous Natalie could be when armed with a cotton swab soaked in hydrogen peroxide.

*********

If I was in the mood to be generous, which I wasn’t, all I could say is that the tension in the air between myself, leaning over the kitchen counter prepping two whiskey cokes, my friend, nursing his wounds at my kitchen table, and the positively tiny man, petulantly sulking on the opposite side of the table and somehow, even from this distance, palpably radiating with vitriol, was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The only sound was the groan of the living room heater, as ice clattered in the glass while I poured.

We’d shuffled from bedroom to kitchen without so much as a word between us. And now here we were, all avoiding eye contact like put out children. This was fucking stupid. They were both being wildly immature about this. Build a bridge guys. Don’t condscend and don’t be a fucking dick, it’s not that complicated. Did this whole crazy day say something about me? Was I like a drama magnet or something?

Tired of the exhaustive pity party, I swept my hair from my eyes, and swirling them for a final time, I set the drinks down by a wool sweater covered elbow. Neither of them bothered to respond.

I stood there for a moment before breaking the ice myself, “Alright then… Alexander? Meet Charles. He’s a teaching assistant in most of my main lectures this semester. He was just coming over to check on me since I’d kinda gone AWOL these last few weeks. That’s all. He’s not a threat to either of us, okay? He’s a good guy and he means well. He just… had a pretty major… lapse in judgment. One of the smartest people I know… Oh, don’t glare at me like that! Besides you, of course. Okay, Charles, meet Alexander. I found him in my pantry… well, actually, my roses… well, I technically found him in the trash, I just didn’t know it yet… anyway, he’s incredibly intelligent, fiercely independent, and he’s been through some fucking major shit, yet, he still manages to come back swinging every time. To be super clear, he’s here only as long as he wants to be, he’s his own man and he has my utmost respect, even though he pisses me off every five minutes for doing gremlin shit like stabbing my friends in the fucking face. Oh, and he’s almost as big a nerd as you, so I’d like to think you two can find some common ground. So, with that said, it’s time to kiss and make up.” They each bore holes into the surface of the table. I refused to take no for an answer, “Apologize to each other, now.”

Both their heads whipped up, brows furrowed, incredulous sputters erupting from both mouths, big and small. Then, upon realizing I was serious, and almost as if on cue, both shouted, “Me?! What did I do?!”

“Jesus Christ, do I have to do all the heavy lifting around here?” I couldn’t help but massage my temples, a stress headache no doubt on the near horizon, “Charles? Gimme your eyes…” My friend’s lips flattened into a line as he raised one eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really, Nat?’ My bad. Wrong turn of phrase, given that one of his seeing organs was nearly lost just a few minutes ago.

I sighed, settling into the chair between the two uneasy parties, each glaring over his shoulder at the other, “Sorry, well, your one good one, then… Look…” Fuck, bad phrasing again, what was wrong with me? “…I haven’t even had a chance to properly thank you for braving this shit weather to come check on me. I know I haven’t been super responsive and you’re a good friend…”

The tiny scoff in the vicinity of my right elbow made me, albeit briefly, change course, “Zip it, Alexander!” Instead of acquiescing quietly, he, of course, had to make a big show of his dislike of being told what to do. He threw his small weight dramatically against the ugly, chipped, ceramic salt shaker my grandma gifted me years ago.

The object hardly even rocked as he pressed against it, rolling over his shoulder to turn away from me and obscure himself from view behind the white and blue patterned flowers, “…Anyway, where was I?” I turned my attention back to Charles, “Yes, you’re awesome, thank you for always watering my plants when I go home on break and for making the hellscape that is lawschool slightly more bearable. However… As you can see, there’s something significantly different from last time we really talked and there’s some important things you need to know: He may look like the cutest little blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel that you’ve ever seen, he may be so adorably small that he can fit in just the palm of your hand and, yes, in theory, if you were really determined to pick him up you could do so without too much resistance, but when I tell you it is against your own self interest to fuck with this little man I am speaking from extensive experience. He deserves as much respect as anyone else, big or small. He’s fought for that all his life and at least in the confines of this apartment, he’ll get what he’s worked so hard for. Believe me, he had to train me too, in the beginning. Listen to him and everyone will be much better off for it, I promise. Do not condescend to him, do not touch him without his permission and do not, under any circumstances, treat him as anything less than the hyper intelligent, wonderful little nightmare he is.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught tiny movements on the table’s surface below, a pair of blue eyes staring up at me through blonde, curtained bangs as he listened intently. I didn’t dare flash my gaze in that direction, knowing full well once he’d been caught in the act, he’d turn away again.

Charles was quick to respond, applying pressure with a few fingers around the banadage on his cheek, as if spot checking for blood, “Little nightmare is fuckin’ right. What did I do? I was kind. I helped him. I tried to be as gentle as I could. Look at him, he’s adorable… er, was… Can I really be blamed for that?” He shrugged defensively, “I mean, c’mon, they’re tiny, they’re cute, isn’t that, like, the whole point?”

I was going to strangle him, “Dude, did you listen to a single thing I just said?”

“What?! I thought they liked it!”

“You thought I… what?” No longer satisfied with lingering behind the salt shaker, Alexander rose to standing. Without his cane, which, in all the fuss, I’d stupidly left in the bedroom, he steadied himself with one hand on the painted ceramic, his chest puffed out, a defiant gleam in his eye. Oh boy, here we go. I knew better than to get in his way, but I couldn’t help taking a long swig from my glass in preparation for the tirade that was about to transpire, “Please, repeat yourself, you thought I… what was that again?”

Charles stuttered, flashing glances at me. His face was drawn, he instinctively leaned back, away from the little man before him who was unflinchingly glaring up in his direction. He knew he’d been caught, “W-well, I just… you know what I meant…”

“You thought I liked being talked down to and treated with disregard? Interesting. What part of my reaction gave you that impression?” Even from this distance (perhaps a foot or so across the surface of the table) I could see his blue eyes were burning. Charles failed to respond, simply sputtering instead. I knew Alexander was just loving every second of this… smart little bastard, “No, I’m curious. You’re an aspiring attorney, aren’t you? Go on, then. Defend your case.”

Charles looked at me and I offered no solace, instead, I simply raised an eyebrow and downed another substantial fraction of my drink. As the little man spoke, goading the much larger recipient into a debate, he stepped away from the shaker, crossing toward Charles’ end of the table. I immediately bit my lip as he left the support behind and bore weight on his still weak leg. I did my best not to intervene, holding my breath as he made a few steps forward, a painful limp evident in his gait. Despite the pain, no doubt shooting through his body, his voice never waivered. Goddamn, I was proud of him, even if he was insulting my friend left and right. He tucked a hand into his side pocket, the other resting on his chest with a poised ease, his fingers spread from his solar plexus down the length of his sternum. This little nightmare knew precisely what he was doing, and I couldn’t help but watch, “Charles, wasn’t it? Tell me, Charles, how would you like it, if–” Just then, as he took another step forward, his knee failed to bear his weight, and he buckled.

Gasping, my hand flew toward him, offering him support with a few fingers. He fell forward into my grasp, a snarl curling his mouth as his hands spread on my fingertips. He leaned against me until he regained his balance, gripping onto the segments of my fingers to pull himself back up. My heart was in my throat, as I searched his little face for signs of pain, noticing the rhythm of his own tiny heartbeats, though they spiked for a moment, didn’t seem to be going into overdrive. Setting his shoulders, he pushed forward, against my hand, attempting to continue on his path. I hesitated, providing the slightest resistance. His brow knit and those burning irises locked with mine again, “Natalie, I’m fine. Let go.”

He wasn’t scared. His face was flushed and his bangs were disheveled, but his eyes were steeled and determined. I pulled my hand away without hesitation, wincing internally at each furious little limping stride he took, his fists balled at his sides.

He regarded the man before him, whose eyeline may as well have been the summit of a sizable cliff face in their proportion to each other. The little man stood fearlessly beside a tumbler full of alcohol that he could have bathed in, sucked in a clean breath and laid into the larger man, “What you fail to understand is that there is not a single cell in my body that likes my current predicament,” As he spoke, his left pointer finger sawed and jabbed the air like some sort of rhetorical blade intent on wounding his target, “I did not ask for you to loom over me, to touch me, to condescend or pacify me. I am not your friend, I don’t know you in any familiar way, yet you see someone like me, adorable and tiny, as I believe you put it, and you immediately assume that makes me somehow less valuable as a sentient being. You think that just because you can overpower me you have every right to do so. And I concede, in the current political landscape, you are legally allowed, no… not allowed, you are, in fact, encouraged to do so. And why shouldn’t you? I exist explicitly for your entertainment, don’t I? And, in any case, what am I going to do about it, even if I don’t like it? I couldn’t possibly, out of a desire for self-preservation, consider the idea of fighting back, could I? No! No, of course not. Because, as you put it, I’m just a ‘sweet little guy’, who ‘likes it’ when you treat me like an object. Indeed, it feels about as wonderful as a letter opener lodged in your face!”

There was a pregnant pause between all three of us, as the gravity of his words pervaded the room. Both Charles and I couldn’t help but stare ashamedly into the inky depths of our drinks. I knew I was no saint, myself, when it came to the little man. He stood now with a rod straight spine, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his lungs heaved with the task of receiving oxygen again, his unflinching gaze trained on the avoidant eyes of his opposite. I knew I’d fucked up hundreds of times: pissed him off, disspointed him, failed him. He was so right, and it was important we shut up and listen.

The only sound was the heater rattling away, once again.

“... Fuck…” Charles sighed, leaning all the way back in his chair now, his head in his hands. He was full of remorse “I’m… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t… You’re right, I just jumped to… I’m sorry, Alexander.” I watched the little man who wore his every thought on his sleeve, as he took this in. He was shocked. His head cocked to the side, his brow furrowed, his lips parting just slightly from their usual tight, pensive tension. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all. He blinked rapidly, his rigid posture softening ever so slightly as he was taken off-guard.

Charles, taking precautions not to move too suddenly, pushed his chair out and leaned on the lip of the table, his chin resting on his forearm. As he moved, Alexander took a half step back, wary and uncertain about the whole situation, still, he never cowered and his eyes showed no fear. As the larger man settled himself, he was still a good distance from the baffled little man with whom he was now almost eye level. Slowly, he offered his index finger, “I’m sorry I insulted you. Can you forgive me?” Alexander regarded the man with suspicion, his brows knitted and his lips turned down into a sort of puzzled caution.

Still, to my utter surprise, instead of using this moment of genuine vulnerability against his opponent, the little man stepped forward in all his five and a half inches and, albeit not all that enthusiastically, took the offered digit in the palm of his hand and shook it tersely before quickly breaking away.

Charles didn’t linger in his space for long and soon returned to an upright position, as Alexander rubbed the center of his palm with the ball of his opposite thumb. It was clear we all needed some air.

“Hey,” Charles met my gaze as I got his attention, “Could you do us a favor and go get his cane?” He and I exchanged a knowing glance. It was clear he understood what I was really asking for, “Just… just in case…” With a terse nod, the man in the wool sweater rose and disappeared down the hall.

As the sound of his steps faded, I turned my full attention to the five and a half inches of a little life before me. It was just us again, after what’d felt like an eternity of drama. For the first time since that knock on the door, the air seemed to come a little more freely into my lungs. I propped my head on an elbow and looked him over. I watched his little body release pent up tension, his defensive spine melting into the everyday rigidity of his usual posture. Poor thing. Did he ever really allow himself to relax? He thrust his hands into his pockets, leaning his weight on his left side. I wondered how his leg was holding up. He hadn’t strained it this much since his surgery. I wanted desperately to offer him a hand to lean on but didn’t want to patronize. I bit my lip.

Seeming to read my mind like a book, his keen eyes flitted in my direction, “I’m fine.” Are you, though? Or are you putting on a brave face? “I can tell you want to touch me as some form of physical comfort. So, go ahead, get it over with…” he lowered his head and spread his arms, as if surrendering.

A pang of guilt shot through me, “No, I don’t want to make you endure it. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.”

“You’re going to pout if I don’t allow for some form of contact. So, go on, just do what you’d like, within reason…” his head had stayed lowered to the ground until his very last few words, when his icy irises flashed up at me, and I caught a glimpse of a very different kind of glow in his eyes, one that was much softer, more vulnerable. I’d opened my mouth to rebuff him again when those eyes changed everything.

Oh.

This was his way of asking for it. His pride would never allow him to directly request what he wanted at this moment, especially not after chastising us both for our sins of condescension. I didn’t blame him. He’d been threatened, humiliated, laughed at, and stressed out. Maybe a minute or two to rest would do a world of good for him but, of course, he couldn’t admit to wanting something from me, that would be far too weak. We couldn’t acknowledge the reality of that truth for the sake of his ego, so I played along instead, “Just for a minute, please? You tell me when you’ve had enough torture for one day and I’ll let you go.” He nodded, eyes still fixed to the ground. Although it was almost impossible to see his face, I swear I saw more color in his cheek.

“Yes, yes, let’s get this over with.”

I slid my hand over to him, very gently wrapping my fingers around his legs and back, pressing the ball of my thumb into his chest and torso. Even though his face stayed neutral and he hardly moved at all, I couldn’t help but notice a release of his strained muscles as he was finally able to release all the pressure off of his injury. It’s okay to get help when you’re hurting. I couldn’t keep my brows from knitting together in concern. It pained me that he tried so very hard to be strong and independent. I completely understood where the impulse came from but I hated that he was in pain and toughing it out when I was happy to help. I sat with my hand propping him up for a few moments, wanting nothing more than a closer look, “May I pick you up?”

“Yes, fine.” His face was a little pinker than it had been, I was sure of it. Gently, I settled him across the platform of my fingers, his right leg placed carefully along the length of my palm with his heel balanced on my wrist. The ball of my thumb remained in his lap with a looser grip as I drew him up to the level of my eyes.

He sat there stiffly, not allowing himself the luxury of relaxing fully into my hand. I wished he’d stop being so uptight but now was not the time to fight him on it. Still, as I looked him over, I felt an immediate swell of pride expand my chest and warm my face. I didn’t realize he’d been watching me with equal attention to detail, until he spoke, “What is it, Natalie?” His voice lacked its usual defensive edge. He was genuinely asking.

“I just think you’re absolutely incredible. You are literally the bravest, most unhinged person I know.” Did his face get a little redder? All he could manage as a response was to roll his eyes, “No, I mean it! You looked at someone over ten times your size and without hesitation were just like, ‘Yeah I can take him’. Who does that?!” The tiniest ghost of a twinge of a smirk uplifted the corner of his crooked little smile. There you are, Alexander, the real you underneath it all. “When I really think about it, I can’t even be mad at you. You are one badass little motherfucker. Don’t ever change. Okay?” I rubbed my thumb across his chest, as he begrudgingly nodded, the smirk cracking into a half smile, while he rested a hand over the bed of my thumb nail. I admit, I felt the blood in my veins pump a little faster, “We can all stand to learn a thing or two from you on how not to take other people’s bullshit.”

“I hope you plan to take copious notes after all this.”

“Oh, it’s a must!”

He cleared his throat and shifted in my hand, sitting himself up a bit straighter, his gaze took a moment to land as he settled, clearly preparing to speak in greater earnest, “I suppose… I feel at least a modicum of remorse… for staining his otherwise high quality sweater.”

I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from cackling out loud, “You’re such a bastard! Of course all you care about is his fashion sense!”

Alexander was smiling too, as he pressed against my thumb, emphatically gesturing to the bedroom far off to his right, “What?! It’s the only redeemable quality about him! Did you expect me to lie for the purpose of overt flattery? Have you met me?”

Just then we heard the opening of a door down the hall, as the man in question began to re-emerge. I stroked the side of the little man’s head with my thumb, as I cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say “Do you want to be put down?” He nodded brusquely, and I did as I was asked, gently lowering him and tipping my hand so he could find his feet before letting go entirely.

As the footsteps approached ever nearer, I leaned down and whispered so only Alexander could hear, “You know, if you wanted a sweater like that all you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to destroy his!”

“Says the woman who still hasn’t made good on her promise to fulfill my modest suit requests.”

“Three piece Italian suits and silk ties are not modest. Even for someone of your size! I’m saving up, alright? Get off my back!” I prodded him playfully in the chest as he batted at my fingertip.

In a moment, Charles would be standing before us, and there would begin a new matter as we all awkwardly tried to reset and start over, each much more aware of the others’ feelings on the whole situation. But for now, it was just the little blonde devil and me and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Was it weird that I was kinda excited to watch him lose his shit at us again? Not that I had any intention of provoking him, but it wasn’t far from feasible that we’d inevitably do something to offend him. It just made me proud to watch him unapologetically stand up for himself, even if I got caught in the crossfire. Looking down at him now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Had his opinions towards me shifted in that direction at all? Or was I a target for spite and disdain like my friend approaching the table? I didn’t think so. At least, not to the same degree. The way his eyes had softened when we were finally alone, the way he’d asked me to hold him in the most passive aggressive roundabout way possible… I thought deep down in that little stone heart of his was a warm spot for me, even if it was microscopic in size at this point.

Maybe, just maybe, with a lot of effort I could fan that ember into something bigger. But who knew? There was only so much room in a chest the size of my finger tip.

#Well that was a rollercoaster #Stranger danger!#Angry little man he attacc he protecc #g/t related #g/t writing #g/t community #giant/tiny #g/t angst #a fraction of justice #g/t #size difference #gt

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ficbrish · 2 days

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15 Lines for Vistri

Tagged by @rotschopf-thedrow 🥰 Thank you! I love these games.

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well. I feel like making a little ask game out of this SO: if you wanna you can send me one of these and i will give you context/ a snipped of what it is from! (you could also guess the context if you like!)

I've included the dialogue tags if they're part of the same sentence.

“Don’t worry, I would have invited you if I had. Actually, I think he’s a little miffed at me. I don’t know why though—” She interrupted herself laughing at a joke she suddenly came up with all on her own, “He doesn’t want to give me his pipe!”

2. “Astarion, you could never bore me.”

3. “You mean other than just to adore you two in person?” Vistri remarked with genuine flattery.

4. Vistri’s expression was mischievous, “Right. That’s right. You don’t fuss, lover, you dote.”

5. She slapped her forehead, “The pig! Gods I was wondering why you were being such a bitch about the pig!”

6. “Gale!” she whined, “Come on, Gale!”

7. “And when she passed me by! I did a little spell! And… It shoved her stupid, devil panties up her big, blue arse!”

8. She laughed at him. A real bitchy, mocking laugh, “Oh, you chose it?”

9. Vistri dropped his hand and laughed, “Silly boy!”

10. “I didn’t die! Exactly...” she stubbornly insisted, refusing to ever take anything serious, seriously. “I just fell over!”

11. “I hate you!” she giggled, playfully pushing him off her.

12. “Deepest apologies,” she said hand to heart, “If I knew you were looking for ham, I would have lowered my voice and given it a bit of a warble before greeting you with something like, 'Mighty night stalker! We have been honored by your graceful presence! Is there any way poor souls such as ours could hope to please thee?’”

13. Unsuccessfully clearing the ecstatic happiness from her lips with a smirk, she said, “It’s a fucking dump.”

14. “Talk?! My love, it’s not talk. I prom—No! I swear to you that one of us is going to toss Cazador’s head at the other’s feet. And then together you and I will drink his blood and lick it from each other’s lips, before we leave the rest of him to rot among those who chose to stay loyal.”

15. Offended, she answered, “I’m blowing my nose!”

Where you can find Vistri:

Kinktober one shots [Ao3] [Tumblr]

Flufftober Spring one shots [Ao3] [Tumblr]

Tagging: @elfjpeg @girlstandstill @blkgirl-writing @pickel182 @nowandthane @maladaptive-menace @chrysalispen @el-tur-el @kaykebitez @shockdowndefiance @vela-ad-astra @unicorn-farm @watergatescandelous @magicallulu7

#vistarion #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #15 lines of dialogue #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #BrishFics #vistri

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years

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Bite Me, Munson | e.m.

Vampire!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

She didn’t particularly want to be out after dark; she knew what lurked in the dark. Well, she thought she knew what lurked in the dark.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Blood kink. Mild choking. Biting. Cockwarming. P in V penetration (wrap it before ya tap it). Cream pie? Kinda. Outdoor sex. Porn with plot. Use of nicknames (my girl, pretty girl). No use of y/n

Author’s Note: Hahahaha fuck man I don’t know where this came from. Tagging @ablondieproduction and @acutely-autistic because they played a part in this slutty ass piece. Enjoy (ノ‥)ノ

“Hey, this is probably the worst time to do this, but like, I think we might actually die so…,” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, glancing over at Nancy and Steve who were talking to each other in hushed tones.

She was sitting on the ground, trying to figure out how to load the hand gun she’d stolen from her dad. Her brow raised when he spoke though, and she looked up at him. “We’re not going to die,” she reassured, setting the weapon on the ground in front of her.

“Listen, I know you guys seem to do this shit all the time, but I…I have no confidence in this plan,” he admitted, moving now to sit beside her in the dirt. “And if it does go south, and this doesn’t work…I just…”

She stared at him, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. For the last six years —since they first met in ninth grade —she tried to keep herself from crushing on Eddie Munson. But it was hard not to when he practically snatched her up in the cafeteria freshman year, offering her a place to sit and a friendly smile (and also an offer to join a “cult.” Though, that ended up being the best part of high school). Being a freak with Eddie Munson was the best thing to ever happen to her.

Even after she graduated, and he didn’t, they still found time to hang out. She was in community college, and had moved into an apartment with two people from the school. Given the college wasn’t far out of Hawkins, it made things easier. He came over more often than she went to his; enough so that there was a drawer of his things in her room. And he spent the night frequently, usually after a long night of D&D when he had to drive her home and she insisted it was too late to drive all the way back.

It was strictly platonic. How did Robin describe her and Steve? “Platonic with a capital P.” That’s what she and Eddie were. Platonic with a capital P.

At least, that’s what she told herself whenever he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Or when he hugged her just a little too long. Or when he called her pretty girl.

They weren’t platonic with a capital P by any means. They never were.

“I should have told you sooner,” he finally concluded, looking at his hands for a minute. “Like, freshman year sooner honestly. I just didn’t know how to —didn’t wanna ruin whatever we had —“

“I don’t think anything could ruin what we have,” she interrupted, and Eddie finally looked at her. “We never really were good at the whole just friends thing, were we?”

“I thought I was making it super obvious…” He grinned some, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“I honestly thought I was overthinking everything,” she laughed, covering her face with her hands for a moment. “Six years, and all it took was a murder accusation and the Upside Down for us to finally tell each other. Oh my god.”

“Who knew you were such a badass, anyway? My girl, fighting demons and shit on the regular.”

She beamed at the title, smiling at him excitedly. “Your girl?”

He nodded once, blush creeping up his cheeks as he pulled one of his rings and held it out to her. “As long as you want to be.”

She held up her hand, letting him slip the ring onto her middle finger since it was too big, and she grinned at him. “I couldn’t ask for anything more, Eddie.”

*****

“No, no, no,” she cried, dropping to her knees beside Eddie, who was bloodied and devoured by the demobats. Dustin fell beside her, clutching her arm tight. “Eddie, no, please. What is wrong with you? Why did you have to cut the sheet?”

Eddie smiled weakly, mouth bloody and eyes glossing over as he tried to focus on her. “I-I didn’t run away this time, did I?”

Her breath hitched and she shook her head, tears falling as she pushed his hair out of his face. “No, no. You…you didn’t. You’re a hero, Eddie. My hero.”

“That’s all I wanted to be,” he whispered, coughing as Dustin started sobbing beside her.

“Eddie, please,” she begged, leaning over him now as her tears fell over his cheeks. “I-I just got you. Don’t leave me. I can’t —“

“It’s okay,” he managed to get out, taking a shuddering breath. “Take care of them, will you? My sheep.”

“You’re going to take care of them yourself,” Dustin insisted, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “We just need…we have to get you out of here —“

“It’s…it’s too late for that, I think.”

Eddie’s eyes closed, and he took another breath. She reached for his hand, taking it and holding it against her chest as thunder cracked over the sky. Dustin let out a broken sob, but grabbed her, pulling her away now. Insisting they had to go.

“We can’t just leave him!” She screamed, fighting the teenager.

“We have to go or we’ll end up like him! He wouldn’t want that!”

“Just leave me here then!”

“NO!”

*****

Weeks passed. Hawkins was on the mend. Much like how the town always did, they pretended that nothing supernatural or evil was happening. Like the Upside Down wasn’t trying to pry its way into their world.

Nothing was normal. Nothing ever was, nothing ever would be, and nothing would ever change. Hawkins was cursed, and she should have left as soon as she could.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t bring herself to leave the town behind, because it was all she really had left of him. Of what they almost had. Six years of friendship, of pining for one another and being too afraid to admit their feelings. Besides, where would she go? She hadn’t finished her associates yet, and she didn’t have any money now that her job was practically swallowed up into the pits of Hell.

The only solace she had was the drawer of things Eddie had left at her apartment. She lived on the outskirts of Hawkins, just barely outside the town limits. Her apartment was pretty much unscathed, though her roommates hightailed it out of town when everything happened. It wouldn’t be long until her landlord decided to start collecting rent again.

It wasn’t a lot of things. The ring he gave her, that she wore around her neck. A couple shirts and pairs of jeans. A jacket that he rarely wore unless she made him swap out his leather jacket to be cleaned. He had left a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy on her nightstand, dogeared on the page he had left off on last time he was over. There were handfuls of guitar picks that he would just drop on her dresser when he pulled things out of his pockets, and she’d taken to carrying one in her wallet at all times.

She wore his shirts a lot; though she tried to keep them as clean as she could. If she washed them, they wouldn’t smell like him anymore and she couldn’t lose that.

There were a handful of times she almost asked Steve for Eddie’s vest back —but she never did. Especially not when she saw Dustin wearing it one day at the grocery store. There was no way she could take it back now. She had enough things of Eddie’s to hold her over emotionally until she finally cracked anyway.

Today was no different, really. She was wearing one of his Metallica shirts under a flannel shirt, having opted to wear it out and about as she ran errands around town. It had taken her most of the day to will herself out of bed, but the grocery store closed at 8 so she needed to get out of the house sooner rather than later. Her apartment was painfully low on food, and while she didn’t have much of an appetite lately, she needed something to hold her over.

It was like the town just…forgot they accused Eddie of murder. Or if they didn’t forget, they didn’t care because as far as they were concerned, he was missing or dead. While it seemed that the party managed to pin Chrissy’s death on Jason, and cleared Eddie’s name the best they could —it still didn’t matter. Because as she walked out of the grocery store, there was the missing persons poster —Eddie with his bright smile; defaced and made into the devil.

She snatched it down, stuffing it into her pocket as she stormed off to her car with her groceries in hand. For a while, she just sat in her car and sobbed into her hands. Screaming in anger at the town, screaming in anger at Eddie. Screaming in general, banging her hands against the steering wheel as she let out her anger at the world.

By the time she had calmed down, whatever she had that was frozen was certainly thawed and inedible. Giving up, and refusing to waste whatever money she did have, she set out to return home. The sun was setting, casting an awful reddish orange hue over the sky. She didn’t particularly want to be out after dark; she knew what lurked in the dark.

Well, she thought she knew what lurked in the dark.

When she finally got home, the street lights were flickering on and she was fiddling with her keys before finally opening her door. As she stepped inside, something crashed downstairs from her and she jumped in surprise. Her groceries scattered on the floor, and her hand shot out to grab the baseball bat she kept by the entrance now. It wasn’t as hardcore as Steve’s, but it worked fine for whatever purpose she felt she needed it for.

Creeping back outside, she gripped the bat tight in her hands as she peaked around the corner. Then she made her way downstairs. The apartment wasn’t anything fancy, being cheap for a college kid, so security wasn’t exactly the landlord’s forte. The halls were exposed to the weather, outside and easily accessed to anyone who wanted to cause trouble.

But as she stepped off the bottom step, there was nothing out there. Curtains drawn, doors shut. Nothing was there. But something ached in her chest, pulling her towards the back apartments.

This was a bad idea. Whatever she was doing —it was a bad idea. She should go inside, she should call Steve or Nancy or literally anyone else. She shouldn’t be doing this by herself. But that thought seemed to be pushed aside by the overwhelming need to ensure there wasn’t some Demogorgon looking asshole lurking outside her apartment.

Also the urge to hit something really hard was really motivating her to peer around the corner.

There was nothing there either, though. Just the back fields that led to the woods behind her building. Raising the bat, she looked around with narrowed eyes, frowning deeply. Something was in the woods; she could see it. It was cloaked in the shadows, trying to hide, but she could make it out just barely.

“What the fuck,” she whispered, stepping into the grass slowly.

As she finally stepped into the woods, away from the eyes of anyone who could save her, her grip on the bat faltered. Her panic was starting to take precedence over her need to hit something. And she was beginning to think she was just seeing things. There wasn’t anything there. She couldn’t see anything; it was dark. And she went into the woods, in the dark, alone. Why was she such an idiot?

Deciding that she needed to back out, that she needed to run, she turned on her heel only to be grabbed and backed into an oak tree. She screamed out, dropping her bat, but a hand covered her mouth almost immediately. Frantic, she tried to throw her weight into her attacker but that did nothing to deter them from holding her down.

“Stop it,” they practically hissed, pressing their hand into her mouth harder.

It felt like someone dropped a bucket of ice water on her. The voice —it wasn’t just anyone's voice. It was the voice she had spent six years listening to. Memorizing, dreaming about. Her eyes finally snapped up, widening as she stared into the darkened eyes of Eddie Munson. Panic set in as she stared up at him, heart racing as she tried to fight him off.

Eddie was dead. She watched him die. This had to be Vecna. She had to be cursed. Had she heard any clocks today? She couldn’t recall as her mind spun.

“C’mon,” he continued, crouching to look her in the eyes. “It’s me, pretty girl. It’s Eddie —I didn’t mean to scare ya.”

The nickname made her knees buckle as she stared up at him still. Tears welled in her eyes as Eddie slowly lowered his hand from her mouth, and dropped his other from her shoulder. She pressed herself further into the tree.

“You can’t be real,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she shook her head. “No, this isn’t real. You’re not real,” she repeated, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

“I promise I am,” he insisted, taking her wrists in his hands gently.

“I watched you die,” she snapped at him, tears falling again for the second time that day.

“No,” he insisted, eyes narrowing down at her. His grip on her wrists tightened just a bit too much, and she winced. “You left me there to die.”

“Ed-Eddie, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered, trying to pull herself away. “I-I didn’t want to leave you there. They made me, Eddie. I tried to stay, I tried to bring you home but —“

“But you didn’t,” he bit back, eyes flashing angrily down at her. His grip didn’t falter. “You left me there to rot.”

“But you’re alive,” she breathed out, eyes wide with fear. “H-how, Eddie? How are you…how are you alive?”

“I…did die —I think,” he explained, dropping one of her wrists. Though he held onto the other one still. “It’s a blur. One minute, I was gone and then the next…I was awake. And I was…I was starving.”

Her brow furrowed as he explained, but she reached up, trying to pry his fingers off her wrist. “Eddie, I-I really need you to let go.”

His anger seemed to have subsided for a moment, loosening his grip just enough for her to pull her hand away. But he quickly caged her in, hands on either side of her head against the tree. “Please don’t run away.”

“I’m…I’m not gonna run, Eddie,” she promised, though the fear in her eyes suggested otherwise. “What…what happened then?”

He searched her face, trying to figure out how to explain it —how to show her what happened. “I…I managed to find a way outta there; I crawled through and I…I went to Benny’s. But it didn’t…I wasn’t hungry for food.”

Her brows furrowed together, staring up at him in confusion. But realization slowly crept in, and her heart skipped a beat. “Eddie…are you…are you a…”

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t believe it. But was it so impossible? Not exactly —if you had told her three years ago that she would be fighting demogorgons, she would have asked if you meant during a campaign. But she had spent the better part of the last few years fighting monsters and supernatural beings with her friends. Was the existence of vampires really that shocking?

Maybe not.

Eddie being a vampire, though? That was…that was more than shocking. It was impossible. It was terrifying. It was heartbreaking but it was…fascinating. Crazy. And truthfully…it was amazing.

Eddie Munson was alive. And he stood there in front of her, looking down at him with those same doe eyes that made her knees weak. Maybe his features were a bit sharper; maybe his eyes were a bit darker. He was certainly stronger —though he’d always been stronger than she was. Maybe he wasn’t the exact same but none of them were the same after experiencing the Upside Down.

He was Eddie, and he was alive, and it didn’t matter how, right?

Her conclusion was drawn with that thought, and her arms found themselves wrapped around his neck in a tight hug. Her weight was thrown against him, standing on her toes as she pulled him as close as she could, finally starting to cry at the realization that he was there –he was alive, and she had him back. Eddie’s arms snaked around her waist, crushing her against him as he lifted her off the ground. His face buried into her neck, instinctively, trying to keep her as close as he could when he realized she wasn’t afraid of him.

His sharp inhale should have scared her, knowing what he was now. The way his lips brushed against her jugular should have caused panic. But instead, she could feel the heat pooling in her belly; the arousal spreading through her body faster than it should. It didn’t matter that he could kill her; all that mattered was he was there.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered, pulling away just enough to look up at him. Her forehead rested against his as he set her down. He was leaning down into her touch, one hand reaching up to touch the ring that hung around her neck.

“You’re wearing my ring,” he whispered back, smiling faintly down at her. She could see the curve of his teeth –his new teeth –through his smile. It made her heart race.

“I haven’t taken it off,” she admitted, “I…I couldn’t.”

“My girl,” he grinned, exposing his fangs even more now. His hand pulled away, resting now against her heart. “I can hear your heart racing. Are you scared of me?”

“No,” she breathed, covering his hand with her own. “Should I be?”

Eddie shook his head, though his eyes were glued to her neck –to the sound of her heart beating through her skin. He could hear the blood rushing through her. “I won’t hurt you, pretty girl. You just have to trust me.”

“I’ve trusted you since we were fourteen, Eddie.”

“I know.”

His eyes finally dragged up her face, slowly meeting her eyes as he licked his lips. Her eyes dropped to his lips for a moment, swallowing hard at the sight of his fangs and his tongue, before meeting his eyes once more. It was then that their lips crashed together, with him pressing her back against the tree as he took her face in his hands. Her hands gripped his wrists, lips parting enough for Eddie to slip his tongue into her mouth. The sound that escaped her when he did that only fueled the fire, his kiss becoming aggressive as their tongues tangled around one another.

Her fingers tugged at his shirt –torn and bloody from the Upside Down –before running her hands up his torso. He shivered at her touch, especially as her nails trailed along the scars that were left behind from the demobats and their attack on him. She pulled away from the kiss, trying to catch her breath as she looked up at him, a string of saliva connecting them still. He grinned still, devilish and teasing, as he slipped his jacket off and tossed it to the side. His Hellfire shirt followed close behind, leaving him standing before her in only his torn jeans and rings.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen Eddie shirtless, and God help her, it wouldn’t be the last either. Not if she had any say in it.

His hands reached out, fingers snagging her belt loops of her shorts to pull her close to him again. She didn’t fight him, allowing herself to be pressed against him again as her arms wrapped around his neck. Another bruising kiss, all teeth and frantic and needy, and he was lifting her up to wrap her legs around his waist without breaking it. The new found strength made it easy to keep her up, his hands gripping her thighs solely to feel the skin beneath his hands. Her back was pressed against the tree again, hands in his hair as she tugged at the curls with need.

Eddie growled —actually growled, not some metaphoric term to describe his sounds. But an actual growl escaped his throat when she did that. And she couldn’t help the moan that slipped through her lips into his mouth. Her hands briefly untangled from his hair, reaching between the two of them to pull the hem of her shirt —well, his shirt —over her head and toss it to the ground with Eddie’s clothes.

She was desperate for him, afraid this would be the only moment she had with him again. And Eddie could tell; could smell just how turned on she was by everything happening. It was amazing what senses were heightened when he changed. One hand gripped her thigh still as the other reached between the two of them, popping the button to her shorts open as she rolled her hips into his touch instinctively. He grinned down at her, fangs less threatening and far more welcoming than they should be.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he admitted, dropping her back to the ground just long enough to pry her shorts off. His fingers brushed just barely over her panty-clad pussy, causing her to buck her hips. “Wanted you for so long.”

She stood before him now —mismatched bra and panties, his ring resting in the valley of her breasts like it always belonged there. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and Eddie was so focused on it that he didn’t even hear her speak. But he did feel her reach out and tug at his jeans, bringing his attention back to her as she pulled him back to her. The bulge in his pants was suddenly something he was hyper aware of, feeling her just above where he wanted her to be. Her fingers were quick to unfasten his belt and unbutton his jeans.

Whether it was desperation or eagerness or both —it didn’t matter. All she wanted was him.

He batted her hand away though, taking her wrists now to pin them above her head against the tree. “D’you know how often I thought about you like this?” He asked, knee sliding between her legs, parting them. “Usually we were in bed but…”

“Take what we can get, right?” She managed to breathe out, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Next time,” he promised, his free hand taking a hold of her chin.

Her pulse picked up at the promise that this wasn’t the last time she’d see him. Releasing her chin, Eddie trailed his hand down her body slowly —resting briefly on her throat where he felt her pulse under his fingers. Then down, over her breasts. His fingers tugged on his ring around her neck, a feeling of possessiveness enveloping him for a second. She was his. And she wore his ring to show everyone that.

His ring wouldn’t be the only mark of his on her when he was done.

He let go of her hands for a moment to allow both his hands to grasp at her chest, squeezing her breasts through her bra before yanking the cups down, exposing her nipples. He leaned down, running his tongue over her right nipple and sucking it while pinching the other. She gasped, hands finding his hair once again. Her thighs rubbed together, trying to appease the need for friction as much as she could. But Eddie’s knee between her legs prevented it.

His knee pressed up, rubbing against her clothed pussy and she hissed in response, closing her eyes. Her hips moved against him, unable to help herself as his mouth moved to her left nipple. Though he pulled back just enough to tease her.

“Impatient, hm?”

“You have no —shit,” she gasped as his hands found her hips and ground her against his knee further, guiding her movements. “Eddie, god, please.”

“Love to hear you beg,” he chuckled, nipping at her breast one last time before he pulled back.

Admiring how drunk she was off of just his touching, Eddie palmed himself through his unbuttoned jeans. Her thighs squeezed together as she watched, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Eddie didn’t bother pulling his pants all the way down, opting simply to take them down enough to expose his aching cock. His fist wrapped around it, stroking himself slowly as she fell against the tree, watching him.

Without prompting, she slid to her knees in front of him. But when she reached out to touch him, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back up, flush against his chest. As much as Eddie loved the sight of her like that, he needed more than her mouth.

She tried to argue, but he cut her off with a searing kiss and his hand between her legs. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and he wasted no time slipping his tongue back into her as his fingers slipped over the wet spot that had formed in her panties. Nimble and quick, he rubbed over her pussy, pressing the cotton between her folds as his thumb ghosted over her clit.

“Fuck,” he murmured, breath fanning over her mouth as he pulled back. “All this because of me?”

“Can’t believe you never noticed,” she teased back, rocking against his hand to get anything from him. Her arms locked around his neck. He raised a brow as he looked down at her. “Took you six years to realize how bad I have it for you.”

He smirked down at her, free hand yanking her closer by the chain on her neck. “Could say the same about you, pretty girl.”

The tightness of the chain around her throat, coupled with the fingers slipping her panties off only made her knees weaker as she bit her lip. “I-I just…fuck, I overthought everything.”

“You always do,” he reminded her, dropping her panties to the ground now, leaving her spilling out of her bra but otherwise bare before him. “Come’ere.”

There was no hesitation as she pulled herself into him again, kissing him hard. Eddie lifted her up once more, wrapping her legs around his waist. The head of his cock rubbed against her slick, poking at her clit as she moaned into his mouth. He pressed her back into the tree, grasping at her ass as he rocked his hips into her core.

“Always left your place with a hard on,” he admitted, the head of his cock leaking precum as he nipped at her lip. It was a little too hard; more than she was anticipating as blood drew. “Always thought about what would happen if I made a move.”

“You should have,” she moaned, not registering the blood that was spreading across her lip. “But we’re here now.”

Eddie hesitated a moment, the scent of her blood hitting him like a brick wall. He pulled back some, looking down at her mouth. He swallowed hard, grip on her tightening as he tried to control the urge to lick the blood from her pretty lips. If he lost control and hurt her…

He needed to distract himself; keep himself focused on anything but the blood that was rushing through her. They were here now; and he needed to be inside her. That’s what would ground him, he was certain of it.

Eddie adjusted, pulling her legs over his arms now to better angle himself. She gasped at the sudden change, but kept one arm around him as she reached for his cock. He threw his head back as she touched him, stroking him once —twice —before she guided it into her slick pussy. Eddie hissed, trying to keep himself focused; trying to take it slow. But he couldn’t —this was something he’d dreamt of for years now. Jerked off to in the night, in her bathroom when she slept in the next room. And now he was finally getting it.

Slow wasn’t part of his vocabulary as he thrusted into her, burying himself to the hilt. She cried out, throwing her back into the tree as she adjusted to his size. Her nails dug into his arms, the pain of his sudden intrusion subsiding into a delicious stretch that had her turning to a quivering mess under him.

But he didn’t move. And when she tried to grind into him, Eddie stopped her, shushing her when she whined.

“Just…fuck,” he whispered, taking a breath and resting his forehead against her neck for a moment. “Let me savor this. Let me feel you for just a sec, will ya?”

She nodded, swallowing hard as she clenched involuntarily around him. Her heart was racing, and the feeling of him filling her up like this was overwhelming her senses. Her pulse was loud in his ears, and Eddie thought back to the blood that was drawn earlier, from him biting her lip. And suddenly the urge was even worse. His cock buried deep inside her; her blood rushing through her. All he wanted was a taste. More than anything, he wanted to taste her.

Three weeks ago, he wanted to taste her pussy and every inch of her body. Today, though, it was her blood he wanted.

His tongue trailed along her jugular, pressing against the vein he could feel throbbing under his tongue. She didn’t seem to realize the danger she was in; or, if she did, it didn’t register that suddenly Eddie was wanting to devour her literally.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered into her throat, rocking his hips just enough to build pressure into her. Give her something to look forward to. She nodded, eyes closed as she tried to move against him. He held her tight though, whispering her name. “Words. Use your words, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, yes. I-I trust you, Eddie,” she whimpered, looking down at him as her hands tangled in his hair.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned, glancing up at her. His eyes had changed —darkened entirely to the point that the whites of his eyes were black. Dark veins mapped across his cheeks, and for the first time since the Upside Down, she felt true fear.

“Eddie, what —“

His teeth —his fangs grazing over her throat shut her up as her eyes widened and her hands dropped to his chest. Her pleading fell on deaf ears as he licked her throat once more, before finally sinking his teeth into her skin. She cried out, her pleasure commingling disturbingly well with the pain of his bite. It was hard for her to decipher if it was the pain or the pleasure she was crying out from; and that’s probably what scared her the most. Not Eddie biting her; not him using her to feed. But the fact she couldn’t tell if she absolutely hated it or absolutely loved it.

His hips pulled back as he fed, pulling out of her just enough before he snapped them forward again and filled her up once more. Her cry turned into a moan, unable to help herself, as he began to fuck into her. It was steady, careful, as her head fell back into the tree once more. The stretch of her neck made his access to her blood easier, and it dripped down her skin and his chin as he picked up his pace.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, clenching tight around him as he pounded her into the tree. But her head was getting fuzzy, and his mouth on her neck wasn’t releasing. Weakly, she hit his chest, trying to get him to stop. Her whimpers turned to begging, her hits becoming weaker.

It took a few more hits before Eddie registered she was even touching him —she was drunk on his cock but he was drunk off her blood. But he pulled back, blood dripping off his chin, cock still buried deep inside her as she slumped back into the tree. For a moment, he panicked; her throat was covered in blood but the bite was slowly closely on its own. She was breathing, looking at him through dizzy eyes.

“Eddie…” she murmured, voice slurred as she reached up. As he began to pull out, she pulled him in. “Kiss me, Eddie.”

Something stirred in his belly, and Eddie brought his lips to hers once more. Bloodied, swollen, and hard —but she split his lips open with her tongue, tasting the copper of herself on his mouth as she moved to try to grab his hips. Eddie got the hint, returning to his steady pace as he fucked into her again. Tasting her blood on his tongue, mixed with the lust that had been pent up for so many years was almost too much for her as the coil inside her wound up.

The tree against her back was biting into her skin, but it didn’t matter as she reached between them, rubbing her clit with one hand. The other was tangled in his hair, holding him in place as he slammed into her over and over again. It was skin against skin, bruising grips on her thighs, and bloody kisses that anyone could see if they walked not even fifty yards into the woods behind her home. But she didn’t care.

“Eddie —!” She cried out, pulling back some as he changed the angle just enough, hitting that sensitive spot inside her. “Oh, fuck me.”

“That’s what I’m doin’, pretty girl,” he joked, burying his face in her neck again, licking at the blood that was drying on her skin. He drilled into her hard, balls slapping against her ass as he felt that same familiar build up. “God, you feel so fuckin’ good. Like you were made for me.”

She hummed in response, fingers messy against her clit as his thrusts became erratic. “‘M close, babe. Fuck, I-I…” She hesitated, drawing in a breath before she grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at her “Bite me, Munson. Please.”

His thrusts stuttered as he looked at her with surprise, but nodded frantically. It brought him that much closer to the edge. She wouldn’t have to ask twice, that’s for goddamn sure.

He went for the other side of her throat now, her head falling to the side as he kissed her jugular. Softer than he had been earlier, though as his teeth grazed her throat once more, he could hear her heartbeat pick up. He dropped one of her legs, letting it rest on the ground as his now free hand pushed hers out of the way, rubbing frantic circles against her clit. Both her hands were in his hair now as he bit into her throat, relishing in the taste of her blood on his tongue.

It didn’t take long for her to finally hit her orgasm; between his cock filling her over and over and his teeth in her flesh, her senses were overwhelmed. She cried out as she fell over the edge, nails dragging down his back as stars filled her vision.

The taste of her blood almost sweetened from her coming, drowning Eddie in ecstasy as he fucked her through her orgasm. His hips started to stutter, becoming aggressive before finally releasing his jaw from her throat. She whined, but he kissed her hard as he came, filling her with his cum. Her pussy clenched tight around him, milking him for all he was worth as she licked her blood off his tongue.

As they both came down from their highs, Eddie pulled away from her. His forehead pressed against hers. She was a bit lightheaded —both from the blood loss and her orgasm —but she looked at him with a lazy smile. Her hands loosened around his neck, though she kept her arms around his neck as he pulled out of her slowly. A whine escaped her lips at the loss of him. Carefully, he set her down, though her legs shook, so he held her close against him.

“God, I fucking love you,” he whispered, thumb wiping the blood from her lips.

She nodded once, holding onto his wrist as she leaned into his touch. “I love you too, Eddie. Everything about you.”

He grinned down at her, licking his lips. “So uh, you got a biting kink, huh?”

“Fuck, apparently.”

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson imagine #vampire!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson #eddie munson fic #stranger things

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kitausuret · 11 months

Note

FOR whenever you reblog the “choose violence” ask game at the end of the month: Answer the questions in sequence order of MK’s grocery shopping trips in March

This was asked of me like literally a month ago but I kept scheduling the post for later and later. But here we go.

1. The character everyone gets wrong

(Spectacular Spider-Man #151, Conway & Buscema)

Well, this isn't hard - obviously my answer is going to be Flash Thompson. I don't know why it's apparently so difficult - he's not really that complicated of a character. Not compared to a lot of Marvel mainstays. But so many people either make him JUST a bully or JUST a hoo-rah America military man. And by that I mean both fans and canon writers. But Flash contains so many multitudes! He's worked in schools, he's a mentor, he's a coach, he's charisma incarnate, he has so many ways he can help people. And I love him.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Uhhh I'm not gonna do this with an image because I don't save these kinds of things lol. But I did once see a long post (and I mean lengthy) describing in detail - mind you, withOUT actually giving any canon evidence or issues or really anything to back up their argument - why Eddie Brock nor the Venom Symbiote should ever be shipped with anyone else, ADDITIONALLY stating that if you were to, say, add another person to that relationship, that you fundamentally are misunderstanding the whole point of """"symbrock"""" and, largely, Venom as a concept. Uh-huh. Okay.

Hilariously, after I saw that post, it stuck with me but it also spurned me into such a RAGE that I cranked out a massive new chapter of my fic in the space of about two weeks after being stuck for months. It worked, but boy I was so mad about that. I took that kinda personally. Insinuating that I didn't understand Venom. That I didn't understand Eddie Brock. Bull fucking shit.

Anyways,

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

I don't remember specifically the last person I blocked that wasn't a bot, but I do know that I will block people in the Flash Thompson and Harry Osborn tags at the drop of a hat. ...oh wait! I do remember the last person I blocked. They had some octogoblin thing they were going on about but they had put it in the Harry tag. I didn't wanna see that. So. Blocked!

10. worst part of fanon

Wow, loaded question. Probably the racism. And the misogyny. Both of which are still rampant! It's something I, myself, am still trying to work on, so it's not like I'm excluded from my own frustration. But I think what's even worse is people who pretend like it's NOT a problem, that fandom is a magical problem-free space.

I'm also just now realizing that the question says fanon and not fandom but I think my statement still stands. To try and actually answer it though, uhhh I think the worst thing about fanon is when it literally becomes canon. Stop doing that, Big Two.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

I wanna talk about something here but I don't wanna scandalize too many of my followers. Actually you know what fuck it I'm gonna talk about it anyways. (mpreg mention below the cut)

I don't understand why so many people in the Venom fandom make fics where the host (Eddie, because nobody writes about anyone else) is the one going through the gestational cycle when there is a new spawn rather than the symbiote. It is literally so much funnier and also makes so much more sense to make the symbiote the pregnant one. "but kita it's can-" SHUT UP THE SYMBIOTE WAS THE PREGNANT ONE (it's called "choose violence" asks for a reason 💖)

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

Uhhhh see above! Racism. Misogyny. Possibly lesbophobia. Mostly for the denial of it all. But I also find a lot of ship discourse nonsensical. If you don't like it, just block! Mute! Filter! It's literally that easy.

30 doesn't exist so I will. Idk. I will give you a panel from an issue labeled 30. Let's go with Venom #30 (Bunn, Silas) and this very funny moment of the symbiote flirting with Valkyrie. 😂

#asked and answered #i have a few opinions about venom can you tell

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feline-evil · 4 months

Text

To try and make my memory issues less Annoying i'm going to start cataloguing what i watch and my opinions on said things, i forgot to do it fresh after watching these first few things but in the future ill try and do it more soon after. You can block the tag jay tv time if you wanna filter this out and not see it!

POST NUMBER ONE: THREE THINGS WATCHED IN JANUARY 2024

YURI ON ICE

I'd heard vaguely about this way back when on tumblr and hadn't had any interest at the time; this was back when i was more interested in getting involved in discourse than really taking any media recommendations from my peers around me lol, older days on tumblr were a dark time huh. Anyway, watched this with my boyfriend this year because i have an interest in ice dancing, i like the sport, i wanted to see some sports anime drama around it!

So, my opinion and review. The show's opening credits are nothing to write home about, very clean looking yeah but kind of bland in a sort of mid 2010's corporate fashion- the show itself though starts with a boatload of charm and a very likeable main lead! The atmosphere was charming and fun and bubbly, everything felt very cozy; LOVED our main leads internal little monologues with little diagrams, loved his family his mom is like peak platonic ideal of an anime mom, loved the tongue in cheek nature of it! Aaaand then we hit what i would call the lowest point for the show, and one that i fully understand if it would be a complete deal breaker for people. That's right folks, we get fatphobic comedy! Whoo. This isn't the WORST i've ever seen but in those first two episodes or so it was prevalent enough to have me rolling my eyes, feeling uncomfortable and saying yeah, if this continues on we might drop the show. If not for how charming the rest of the show was I'm sure we would have dropped it right then and there! But what i am glad to say is that yeah, it drops off; of course it comes with the caveat that it only drops with the main lead losing the weight he was being mocked for, SIGH, but it at least started to feel less like we were going to have to sit through endless weird attitudes towards NORMAL WEIGHTS FOR A GODDAMN HUMAN BODY TO BE, and more like 'oh yeah these hardcore professionals in these fields have shitty attitudes towards bodies. That makes sense. Wish we didn't have to linger on it still because i dislike it thoroughly.' So anyway. Moving onto the next episodes the show really started to pick up for me and got me invested in the ice dancing; while a lot of characters come and go during the lead up to and the competition itself i found so many of them likeable and charming that i was rooting for them each time they took to the ice! I adored the 'rival' of sorts, fifteen year old yuri (not the titular one, different yuri) and we were cheering him on a lot; he's just a little angry kid that loves cats and wants to be the best!!! We wanted him to do good and have fun!!! And we found we were rooting like this for so many people, really feeling the vibe of watching a sport you enjoy and feeling the love for the art of it all.

Now speaking of art i will say i found myself not always totally in love with the animation during the skate segments; this show is really pretty looking for sure and certainly TONS of hardwork went into it so i don't wish to say anything against that- i don't even know if there IS a better way to animate this but. Well on occasion it felt as if the background slid at the wrong speed or angle or direction and didn't fully match the figures skating, making some of the speed and elegance of ice dance evaporate. A lot of animation also felt a little reused, a lot of the same motion being done with little variance aside from what the commentary dialogue says over top, but again i respect a ton of hardwork no doubt went into this and i'm sure animating competitive ice dancing is a daunting task so i'm not making any statements against effort or skill on part of the animators!! Just stating that i myself wasn't too taken with the animation during these segments.

Of course, at its core, what yuri on ice is really about is a blooming relationship; and oh my god. Okay so i'm kind of used to things tumblr called gay back in the day being....mmmm metaphorical, subtextual. Sometimes even not gay at all. So i wasn't prepared for how openly gay this was! There is clear romantic and sexual intent shown from JUMP, it is not shied away from nor shown as something to be demonized or to bring doom on the characters they are just Gay. Like REALLY gay. And maybe you're going 'well duh of course' but hey. I didn't grow up watching anything with gay characters or people in it, i still am not used to seeing open and happy gay people in media. Its still fresh to me! And it makes me happy! I don't know how they got this show to be SO gay, i would be surprised at something gaining mainstream popularity with 'THEY STRAIGHT UP GET ENGAGEMENT RINGS' level of gay nowadays never mind back then so i'm just sort of taken aback! That's cool!! That's still new to me!!

Now my overall review is: This show is a good fluffy watch, nothing too complex or complicated, might not blow your socks off but if you want something feel-good it's worth a try! Obviously with the understanding that if those first few episodes leave too bad a taste in your mouth i compleeetely understand and would not begrudge anyone switching off at that point, you'd be well within your rights because good lord we didn't need that put in. But yeah! Show's gay! Show's got ice dancing! Someone should take Yuri Plisetsky to the rainforest cafe!!!

DUNGEON MESHI

OK SO THIS WILL BE A SHORTER REVIEW BECAUSE WE HAVE ONLY SEEN ONE EPISODE VERSUS YURI ON ICE BEING A FULL SEASON, ALSO DO NOT FUUUUCKING SPOIL DUNMESHI STUFF MY BOYFRIEND HAS READ THE MANGA BUT I HAVENT.

Dungeon meshi is something i've known about for ages and known that i'd like, but i also knew it had a plotpoint adjacent to something that (genuinely depending on the day, its like a damn coin toss) can squick me out OR trigger me a bit, SO! I'd never read it, which i know is a damn shame! But my boyfriend really wanted to watch the first episode of the new dunmeshi anime and i really really wanted to watch with him and i'm really glad i did because it is SO good. It is so fun and witty and bursting with charm, every character is so likeable and it feels like you've known them forever from jump they settle so easily within your fondness for them! I adore how much they do not shy away from Laios being a very passionate weirdo, i love that the guy who is pretty much our main lead in our cast is. A PECULIAR MAN WHO YOU JUST REALLY CAN'T HELP BUT HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR. I've been this man before, the guy who's really into something nobody else gets!! I get it Laios i get it! Marcille Chilchuck and Senshi are all absolute delights too and each has their personality show vibrantly different from each other, feeling like individuals all with so much to like about them all; Marcille as the person to constantly be unsure about the CLEARLY PECULIAR THINGS THEY ARE DOING is especially great!! Not only is this show a romp so far but it looks DIVINE, the animation knows exactly when detail and motion is needed and when a minimalist approach is needed to sell a gag; each character is rendered PERFECTLY from manga to anime, they are translated over with an expert touch that loses none of their charm- and according to my boyfriend this anime is a very straight forward adaptation, beat by beat following the way things are laid out in the manga's panels the way they are presented within that medium, and that's SO cool to me that they're managing to make precise things that worked so well on paper work just as well in motion! I can't say too much about this story-wise or plot related just now as again, we've only seen the one episode, but it has left me hungry for more and really excited to watch the rest of it, and that's fantastic!! PONYO

Oh wow this is three for three animated entries for the jay tv time list; not intentional but that's pretty cool co-ordination! Animated January..... ANYWAY!

CAN YOU BELIEVE I HADN'T SEEN PONYO YET! I've seen Spirited away and My Neighbour Totoro, but this was my first time watching Ponyo and ohhhhh my god it's wonderful. Every character is a joy, the world around them looks gorgeous, its all so sweet and nice and aaaaaaa Sometimes small kids can be. Grating in movies, or the plot can be moved along in ways that are annoying to watch a toddler progress through, but not with this movie; the kids are SO cute, Sasuke is such a sweet lil kid and Ponyo is so fun- also the line early on at the daycare where the one lil girl says 'you don't have a job you're FIVE!' KILLS ME! This movie portrays little kids in a way that never crosses into the annoying small child thing that a lot of movies can do; and that's not all it does right! It's conflict never feels contrived or irritating, it always flows nice, it's characters never feel boxed into Bad or Good everyone is just a person trying to do what's right, the world never feels Too hostile or Too cosy it just feels nice and balanced! It's a joy to watch it really is, it's not a complex nor complicated tale but it doesn't need to be, its a movie to watch when you want to have a big happy smile on your face; it makes you want to clap and go yayyy!!!! So often because you love what's happening so much! Sasuke's mom is SO FUCKING GOOD. Spoke about platonic ideal of anime mom earlier but Sasuke's mom takes the award for Coolest mom; she's driving fast and furious, she never once judges Ponyo for being a fishy, she's cool!! Ponyo's dad is equally good, i love a well meaning man who just can't help but come across as a Total Weird Asshole because he is just so much of a tired grumpy mess; and i love that he's not portrayed as evil or mean, just protective and misguided in places but ultimately just as kind as everyone else in this movie! And that's something i really appreciate, so much kindness flows through this movie, so much love for your fellow man (or fish); the community feels like a community because of it, families feel like families because of it. Kindness is so wonderful and the kind of kind, gentle understanding in Ponyo makes it's characters come alive! The final moments when Sasuke accepts Ponyo makes so much sense, he's a sweet lil five year old, he doesn't have any prejudice engrained in him, he likes his fishy friend!! And the world is saved by that!! And isn't that just delightful! Also hey if we may get unprofessional Sasuke and Ponyo's moms had a little something going on between them, i think they could've had a lil something something. I'm just saying. I also love Ponyo's dad SO Much. I couldn't fix him but. well. nay, i shan't say. ANYWAY!!! REALLY GOOD, SWEET MOVIE! Definitely one i'll revisit on days when i want a nice sweet pick me up! It's gorgeous, it's heartwarming; oh my god and the ANIMATION!! THE ANIMATION! Every frame a delight, i appreciate so much of how well done the creatures of the sea are and how much are filled into every scene, making it feel bustling and alive, i appreciate how unafraid to make Ponyo look WEIRD they are it really adds to the charm, and the animation in general is just so perfect, its a work of art... I REALLY ENJOYED THIS MOVIE! AND I THINK THAT'S IT FOR NOW, STAY TUNED FOR UH. MORE THINGS I WATCH I GUESS.

#jay talkin #jay tv time #this is more me more than anyone else i just think its funny to also publish it #its kinda a accountability thing then. maybe ill reemmeber to do it more if its public #and then maybe i wont forget things about things i enjoy!!!! bc my memory is bad lately LMAO

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violetren · 2 years

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psst hi I am a huge fan of sstl, like it's probably the greatest fiction experience I've ever experienced, but I've never listened to any other works like it! would you recommend other works Ishani's been part of, or do you have any recommendations in general for, I guess, narrative fiction audio?

Oh for sure. Idk what exactly made you pick up ssttl or what about it struck a chord so for now I'm only gonna throw like 3 or 4 things out here based on vibe or plot similarities to ssttl and my personal preferences. If you wanna tell me more about what you're into I can try give you a wider range of recs.

First up, The Strange Case of Starship Iris.

If you picked up ssttl because it's sci-fi with lead characters of colour and queer rep, or because of how its futuristic in a way that feels believably fucked over by capitalism and yet still has a gentleness and hopefulness to it, or because you like character driven narrative then for sure give this a try.

It's also the reason I knew Ishani Kanetkar's name and knowing her name is why I immediately moved ssttl to the top of my "to listen to" list. The shows concept was cool enough to grab my attention but reading Ishani Kanetkar was in the leading role made me give it immediately. I haven't listened to all of the good doctor's work but I have noticed two things: 1, she is a fantastic VA. And 2, projects she's had a significant role in usually have a really cool concept behind them. She either has fantastic tastes, incredible luck, or both. Obviously read descriptions and see if something is to your taste before listening but like, no reason not to look up her other work and use it as a launch pad.

Back the tscosi rec. The story begins by following the harrowing day of biologist Violet Liu as her research vessel falls apart around her after an explosion. Against all odds someone is there to rescue her, captain Kay Grisham picks up her distress call, and the rescue comences. The rest of the season follows the fall out of that tragic explosion and heroic rescue.

The show is ongoing, currently has 2 complete seasons out with a 3rd (and I believe final) season to come.

Rec 2: Girl In Space

A funny and resourceful scientist lady, living alone in space, talking to her recorder logs and her ships glitchy AI (who may or may not have or be developing sentience), and one day being very surprised when suddenly she has a human person to talk to instead. Sound familiar?

The plot is actually very different though. Our girl X lives on a space station that can never return home and her whole existence is as much of a mystery as what exactly her mission is supposed to be. The soundscaping on this show combined with Sarah Rhea Werner's (and the rest of the casts) acting is absolutely amazing.

There is currently 1 season fully released and the second season is apparently due out this year. In reccing this I may have accidentally begun a relisten.

Rec 3: Wolf 359

This one is actually complete if that means anything to you. Figured I'd drop one in since the other two have been ongoing. Its a big one, over 60 episodes plus a ton of bonus episodes.

Wolf 359 follows the crew of the u.s.s haphaestus an isolated little research vessel orbiting a star designated Wolf 359. It starts out goofy and like there isn't gonna be much plot, this is a cunning ruse to lull you into a false sense of security before hurtling you into an emotional roller coaster that will make you fear for, cry for, laugh with, and grow to love the rag tag crew. The characters are very compelling in that they are allowed to be flawed, some to the point that they are unlikeable, but in that good way that means you're connected with the story and wanna see them get their comeuppance, not that they're badly written and make you wanna stop listening kinda way.

Also like half the cast is voiced by the writer Zach Valenti, and even telling you that, if you check the show out there are gonna be episodes where if you hear the credits list and go "wait, he was that many people!?" Amazing VA abilities.

Rec the fourth, The Penumbra Podcast.

TTP has two story lines and you can listen to one without ever touching the other but Imma rec both here because there is a reason this podcast as a whole makes so many rec lists for anyone looking to get into audiodrama series. Both storylines have very different vibes and approaches, but both deal overall subtly deal with what it is like growing as a person, how rewarding it can be, but also acknowledging how fucking hard that can be.

Story line one, the Juno Steel universe, aka the Junoverse. This is a sci-fi story with a film-noir aesthetic. It follows the titular, character private detective Juno Steel a dame with a chip on his shoulder nearly as deep as a skyscraper is tall, and the cases they take in Hyperion City, a mega colony on a futuristic Mars. There is an overarching plot even as we go from case to case until eventually we move beyond that format.

The second story line is Tales from the Second Citadel. Set in a post apocalyptic high fantasy setting, the Second Citadel. This story follows the intersecting tales of several of the kingdoms knights (and a few not knights too). One of the knights will sound very familiar, Sir Damien voiced by Matthew Zahnzinger who also voices Mikail Reza in ssttl. In a truly hilarious turn of events Sir Damien also has a life changing (romantic) encounter with a scale covered non human entity.

Both story lines are highly character driven and contain a lot of heart. They also both feature a cast that is diverse in terms of race, sexuality, and gender.

As I said if you tell me more about what you liked about ssttl or why you chose to listen to it I'd be happy to give some more refined recs. All of these save for the second citadel portion of tpp involve space stuff but if you're open to more supernatural or just more terrestrial sci fi I definitely have more options you could consider.

If you ever wanna shout about ssttl or any of these shows if you end up listening to any well then you know where to find me.

Oh left field bonus rec because I just got a note about a post I made about it, Where the Stars Fell.

Unkillable lady scientist specialising in cryptid studies moves to the strange little town of Jerusalem Oregon. Becomes roommates with a reclusive author. They get along much like oil and water, it is all very gay.

I am typically a little turned off by shows with so many religious references but this one manages to be religious in the way that Good Omens is religious. That is, it's not preaching religion, its just using characters and concepts people may be familiar with from Christianity and using them to tell a funky little supernatural story with naturally high stakes grounded by very human characters. (human in the sense that they are emotional and flawed and brilliant).

It just finished its first season a couple of month ago so everyone is waiting for season 2, myself included.

#chirping wren #podcasts #audio dramas #hope at least one of these becomes a good listening experience for ya anon #cannot reiterate enough that you're welcome to come yell about any or all of them here plus any other cool ones you find yourself #ssttl #tscosi #girl in space #wolf 359 #the penumbra podcast #wtsf

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matan4il · 2 years

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what is your opinion of buck telling lucy that he's just glad she wasn't with him(bobby) and lucy smiling, some people have interpreted that to be a romantic moment but I did not get that at all.

Hi Nonnie!

So TBH with you, I didn't write about this because I couldn't be 100% sure whether Buck said, "I'm just... I'm glad you weren't with him" or "I'm just... I'm glad you were with him." I tend to think I hear "weren't," the subtitles in the file and the transcript site say the same, but I know some people heard "were," making this a bit of a mystery.

So, if Buck said "were" then I don't think this line was there to do anything other than get the ball rolling with Taylor's jealousy. Which is ironic, right? We've been waiting for the other shoe to drop when she finds out Lucy is the other woman Buck had kissed in 511, but instead Taylor goes jealous and even dishes out a threat over an exchange that, as far as she knows, is completely innocent, platonic and grounded in a collegial relationship. This would be a really good line to highlight that whatever wasn't working in Buck and Taylor's r/s, it's not just him getting drunk and doing something stupid, they fundamentally lack the trust needed to make one work and are mismatches in terms of their personalities. Can you imagine Buck ever doing something like this to Taylor's cameraman if he sees the two of them having a platonic conversation after filming an intense segment for the news?

If the line was "weren't" I have to admit, I dislike it. Supposedly Buck, looking at his father figure, knowing he could have lost Bobby, or any of the other members of the 118 (since that's the risk when they were ALL in the burning dispatch), somehow ends up telling Lucy the most important thing is that she wasn't under the rubble with Bobby and May. Beyond the fact that I really don't wanna see a Buck/Lucy romance for various reasons, I also just feel a bit insulted on behalf of the team, which we all know those people are Buck's family. And somehow I'm supposed to buy that Buck was more concerned about losing Lucy than about losing any of them? Nah, that doesn't fly. More than that, it's also so unearned. What have Buck and Lucy shared so far, one drunken kiss? One platonic conversation where we didn't see anything between them that runs so deep, it starts veering into romantic territory? We haven't seen anything else between them that could support this notion that Buck feels so deeply about Lucy, that even as he's trying to process the possibility of having lost Bobby, he'd say he's just relieved Lucy wasn't in danger, too. It actually is something that could he could have said platonically as well if it were "I'm glad you weren't with him." It's the "I'm just..." right before that implies this is the main thing Buck's grateful for. Which doesn't work. It still sets up Taylor's jealousy and her ugly reaction, but this time it doesn't work quite the same, 'coz this time it implies Taylor is right to be suspicious and jealous. Still doesn't justify her reaction, but with this version, she's seemingly onto something real. I don't like it because the focus should have been IMO how Taylor and Buck just don't work as a couple. So I truly hope the line was "were" and not "weren't." I do have to say that the "an awful thing has happened and all I could think of was you being okay" trope is usually a romantic one, so I do get where people are coming from with this, though I have to say, if that's what the line was going for, it's not earned, nor feels authentic.

Either way, I see this line as being mostly about setting up the destruction of the B/T relationship from its very core. Because in either case, a part of why it implodes is due to Taylor, too.

I hope this sort of helped, Nonnie! Sorry for the length and in case you're looking for any of my other asks, here's my ask tag. xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #evan buck buckley #anti-bucktaylor #new girl lucy #ask #anon ask #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

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partyinthemysterymachine · 2 years

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I'M CURIOUS AF WHO ARE THESE TWO MONSTERS NEAR POOR SCARED HARRY? 😳😳😳👀👀👀

SHAKES AND VIBRATES

oh!! oh you wish to know my monsters?? u wish to hear GOOMT's monsters?? WELL!!!! ha ha ha OOOHHH

OOH I'M GLAD YOU ASKED!!!

(no rly bless u, ilusm, thank u for asking and ur vested interest, i'm REALLY SUPER appreciative ❤️❤️❤️💖💖💖🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚)

and ofc, since u know i gotta, here is the obligatory link to my Harry/James glacial slowburn, Get Out Of My Town, and GOOMT’s corresponding blog for updates, aesthetics, art, and all that jazz!

NOW KEEP IN MIND: these are only descriptions of the monsters in the full picture i did here. there are others in the monster cast too, that are LOTS of barrels of fun, and VERY intricate and intriguing in their own way, just as the ones mentioned/following.

(the picture itself is a part of the GOOMT actor AU, where it’s all just a show, folks! (consider it to the likes of the Silent Hill blooper reel, which we were ROBBED OF in later games >:( 🔪 @ konami 5ever) and you can find its tag here.)

CONTENT WARNING: descriptions of child death, James Sunderland

JAMES SUNDERLAND

James Sunderland is a stupid little idiot weasel and conduit of Silent Hill. he has so many problems and is not going to do anything about it because he’s a stupid and depressed little wanker who doesn’t have any rights, not that he ever did in his life.

after the events of Silent Hill 2, James pitched himself into the lake but the town wasn’t gonna let him off easy. it had plans, and needs, for James. our boy here crawled right out of Toluca Lake after haphazardly (and illegally, but whatever; who’s gonna give him a ticket? .. yeah that’s what i thought) parking it in its depths and has remained in South Vale ever since. James sure darn well tried, but he cannot escape through death at his own hand, or otherwise. in fact, the monsters he (and we) have come to know and love have gradually become disinterested in him.

(as for Pyramid Head? huh! well, it’s weird; James hasn’t seen him around in quite a while.. hrm.. really gotta wonder what’s up with that.. ;3c )

what it means to be a conduit of Silent Hill, however, is a little complicated; but the baseline is that he’s Silent Hill’s little battery pack. it needs him and through fun time psychological (and physical, now and again.. but the monsters don’t wanna play anymore, for some reason..) torture, James does what he does best and wallows a sure hell of a lot, thus accumulating nutritious and scrum-diddily-umpious negative power for the town.

oh 👂 you ask, “and for what does it need it, and why James?” great question!

wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?? ;) but you can read about it all riiight here, babey!!

ok ok jk jk (sorta lol) (bc i mean come on. ISN’T he a monster, tho......? ....hrrmmm hmm hmmmmm........ sources point to yes, if SH2 has anything to say about it, LOL)

let’s ACTUALLY start with my HONEST personal favorite:

THE MEMORY OF HARRY

(this monster was very aptly named by a good friend of mine - hi Gospel! - and so credit must be given where credit is due.)

ART BY capitán solsikke

(uncertain of where solsikke is keeping their public art contacts/social media now, so solsikke, if u happen to see this, pls drop ur deets so i can link back to u pls :< pls..)

FURTHER NOTE: to reduce the long post scrolling and bc tumblr’s image insertion format is horrid, i’m going to put additional art/links to the GOOMT blog posts for Memory of Harry, bc y’all REALLY gotta see the actual faithful renderings of him i also commissioned from capitán solsikke

the Memory of Harry first appeared at the end of GOOMT’s Chapter 27: Yeah, Me Neither. his description is as follows (and ADDITIONAL NOTE: Harry is, GOOMT-canonically, left-handed):

A lean man teetered on exhausted legs. Because his entry only allowed them to view him from the side, from that angle they saw he wore a brown leather jacket discolored by smoke stains and was torn at the shoulder. The jeans on his legs were tainted and ratty, and his shoes only held together by determination.

From what could be told of his profile, this man’s face had retained most of its features, despite the crusty, black skin covering every inch. His dark hair lay flat on his head, save for a wispy few strands that fanned loose over his brow. Misshapen scarring created a thick, blinding patch over his visible eye. And lastly, the reason his nonstop weeping was muffled was due to a mouth sewn shut so many times that it was replaced by nothing but a bulky, knotted mask.

But this visage was nothing compared to his cargo. In his hand he held a smaller one attached to a thin, tiny arm, of which was connected to the raw and burned corpse of a little girl. She was on her belly, her head hung like a sack of sand between her shoulders, obscuring her face, and her stringy, oily black hair dangling and swaying with every move the man made. On her body was a tattered blue dress, perhaps once long-sleeved as suggested by the remains of ripped fabric at her elbow, and black shoes over white socks patched by dried orange blood and char. Wherever she was forced to go, she left a wet streak of black and crimson in her wake.

James scrutinized this gruesome new monster hard while it shuffled directionless and wracked with demoralizing sobs. It didn’t seem to know they were there and moved at such a slow pace that James figured they were in no immediate danger. He looked at Harry for guidance.

Harry, however, was in no state to do anything but remember how to breathe. His face was contorted in grief and oddly, recognition. James eyed him, somewhat disturbed by it but moreso uncertain, then took his stare back to their visitor.

The victim of a fire unknown changed his direction, somehow having noticed they were there and faced them. Wherever it could be seen, his skin was indeed blackened, cracked, and flaking like bark, and revealed that both of his eyes were blindfolded by the scarring. Beneath the leather jacket, which sported a broken replica of their flashlights, was a sweater vest that bore a royal blue color somehow notable under the charcoaled damage. It was frayed at the hems and layered over a shirt that was once white. But now that he had confronted the resident and veteran full on, James could have never been prepared for what brought it all together:

The bereaved’s left hand which, until now, had been hidden on his other side, was not empty - and never could be. His arm hung lifeless and his fingers welded, forever clutching, a long, rusted, and bloody steel pipe.

James’s lips parted, and his heart dropped like lead straight through the floors.

Neither moved, and the man, at his snail’s pace, sought to meet them. The next garbled cry caused Harry to twist his bludgeon so hard in his white-knuckled fists that his arms briefly trembled. Each step drew the walking corpse a little bit closer, and still, they couldn’t find their feet. With the pieces having fallen together, the implications of what was before them pulled the ropes in James’s stomach tight enough to make him vaguely nauseous.

James heard himself utter a whisper of his companion’s name. His voice seemed to shake Harry out of his stupor, and in time to choke back sob of his own before it began.

He didn’t even feel his vocal cords nor his tongue move when he spoke again. “Is that..”

“It’s me,” Harry said thickly. “Yeah. That’s me.”

===

he was, considering his importance, intended to be used sparingly - and he is. this monster is (thus far, and understandably,) Harry’s least favorite monster, lmao. Harry would really rather this guy Didn’t, but hey - ain’t nobody here that’re gonna let HIM call the shots any time soon!!

the Memory of Harry is an extremely foreboding warning and tale on two legs. he is also 100% capable of ruining Harry’s day in a pinch, just by existing.

(Harry really doesn’t like to think about him.)

CRYING, BURNING WOMAN

(who is taking a moment out of her day to T-pose to get her point across; and of whom has not yet been properly rendered in art form BUT I’M WORKING ON FIXING THAT 👀 @ all local artists with commissions open)

this monster tends to travel in packs of two or more. she’s first seen alone, and is the debut monster in GOOMT’s story, in Chapter 5: Stop Stopping

From the fog emerged a staggering, loose-limbed creature that was closer than either of them had anticipated. It shuffled on buckled legs, its ropey arms swinging carelessly in the momentum. The head drooped on its neck, masking its face from everything but the asphalt, and they ought to be grateful for it. The entirety of this abomination was ravaged in sickening swirls of exposed muscle, black rot eating away at its flesh, and raw, peeling skin. Like most of the hell creatures in Silent Hill, it was an impossibility. The thing moved as though it was treading through tar, but these two were wise to the fact that that shouldn’t be undermined.

The stench of it reached them as soon as they saw it, triggering bile washing up Harry’s throat, and gritted disgust on James’s face. It smelled of charred meat forgotten in an industrial oven fueled by sulfur and was heavy with the unmistakable odor of wet, moldy clothes. Every breath it took sounded labored and painful, and vaguely feminine. In its wake were slicks of thick blood, and if they dared to be any more observant, flung drops of blood from its stiff fingertips as the arms swayed.

she’s seen again, in Chapter 10: Turn Around, Look At What You See

The smell reached them. It was the same they’d experienced before: burnt flesh and moldy clothes. Harry remembered what she looked like, how her arms swung and her spine could barely support her. Her flesh had been peeling, burnt to the bone in some places, and her head hung to conceal her shame. It sounded like there were more than one of these tortured women - perhaps two or three.

and in Chapter 11: The Pocket Travel Guide To Silent Hill, James reflects upon them - and one other.

There were the crying, burning women, and the creature made of static and fumes. The former were forever smoldering, blighted by singed holes in their baked flesh, and dripped black, acidic ichor. Some were bald, their scalps incinerated, and others had long black hair that was both wet and decorated with kindling flames. When they staggered, their faces were obscured by the way their heads hung on broken necks, and when dead, Harry and James rolled them over to unearth the fact that their eyes were blinded by melted skin and their mouths silenced by a red square made of steel. How their screams were audible from behind the plates, they didn’t know. Their bodies reeked of gasoline and scorched wood.

===

(sensing a pattern, here? >;) )

now in that, there’s mention of a “creature made of static and fumes”. she is not pictured, and has a different appearance - and she’s a radio mimic. the radio (huh.. radio..... what’s going on with that radio.....? is it broken...?? hrm. better take it anyway) mimic.

as you can imagine, she’s also one of Harry’s beloved favorites. ;3c

and finally, however quite (so far) unfairly depicted and appearing MUCH later into the story:

THE LOST BOY (1 of 2)

his (and his better(?) half’s) first appearance comes in Chapter 54: Touché

And before one could say “knife”, galloping, meaty claps on vinyl tile heralded the proper, and fashionably late, introduction of the quadrupedal couple. Upon emerging into the artificial headlights, however, they recoiled. At once, and reminiscent of their earlier behavior on the security monitor, Harry and James watched them volley apart. Furthermore, their emotions seemed to be unchanged from the scene with the girl in the corridor.

Demonstrating that behavior in person sowed the seeds of interest, for as intimate as they seemed to be, they also showed signs of having a mysterious, innate fear of being seen together. The predators chose their quarry and took sides on an archer’s bow. During their slow, deliberate advance, they verified the surmised size discrepancy as correct - and the larger made James its target.

Its hunched skeleton made it hard to decipher its entire build, but anyone could see that it boasted the hallmarks of an athlete: lean, sturdy, balanced, and if it stood on its legs, would probably surpass the six foot mark. In contrast, its partner, who had business with Harry, posed an all around average height and body type. As far as fitness went, this was one that strongly hinted it preferred the bleachers, as there was barely any muscular definition on it at all.

Other than that, the pair’s bodily design was nothing special. Moist and raw burns covered their unpalatable topography from head to toe, mapping out ice cream swirl streets hued in apricot and ripe peach, and pronouncing the sewage brown lagoons dotting them like Dalmatians. Their figures were ugly to be sure, but they weren’t the focus - their faces were.

At one side of the mouth, a necrotic, flat, fabric string vertically secured the starting base of a pattern. It was a simple motif, too: laced shoes. Criss-crossing over the lips and tunneling north and south through septic punctures ringed by crystalized pus eyelets, the strings wove impenetrable diamonds all the way to the other side, triple-knotted in gunky yellow paste, and the uneven ends left dangling. Once upon a time, these mouths must’ve had something to say, or needed to say; but none were permitted to listen. They, like all other fiends, were victims of silence.

Harry and James didn’t much care for the trendy, stringent enforcement of ‘silence is the best policy.’ A while ago, Harry, at least, began to suspect that there was significance behind each individual, unique means; granted, the allegation seemed like no-brainer. All aside, the two here helped build his case.

He’d chew on it later.

Two slanted holes pretended to be a nose, and above them sat two anomalous eyes. One visualized the world through an eternal squint, the eye semi-obscured by a grafted skin bandage. The second, in juxtaposition, told further tale of torture. Stapled to brow and cheek were the upper and lower lids, stretched beyond capacity to plate the living, twitching centerpiece netted in spider silk threads. Firetruck red painted the inverted inner lids, and by merciful grace of the monster’s exotic biology, the socket and orbit glittered from moisture that preserved its functionality.

===

RUBS NASTY LITTLE FLY HANDS

ooh, this pair - OOOH, this P A I R. i LOVE this double trouble. i was VERY excited to introduce them, because they are A TREAT. these boys are a first for GOOMT’s story for being boys, so gosh..... gosh, ho hum hrmmm hmm mmmmrmmm hrrrrmmmm, wonder what that could mean???

>;3c

but yeah, as you can see - their details are quite immense and uhhh.. all we got up there right now is zombie Orange Julius lookin’ out for his next big orange to squeeze. soon, buddy.... don’t worry, my guy; soon.....™️

aaaaand THAT is THAT ON THAT!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR INTEREST IN MY MONSTERS OF GOOMT, AND GOOMT ITSELF 😭😭😭😭 WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE MY THANKS AND JOY (despite the 232,398 of them in GOOMT so far but eh, who’s counting)

forreal tho THANK YOU so much for your ask and your curiosity, it means the absolute world to me and i’m shoving it into my mouth and storing it in my cheeks. GOOMT is the love of my entire life and also my bane of existence and i LOVE talking, and sharing aspects of GOOMT* for all that will listen :3c

*except for lore, future planning and scenes, and things not otherwise already published because i am a VERY superstitious writer and VERY cautious of what, and to whom, i share. i won’t answer questions or talk about GOOMT’s lore and planning to anyone - not even Ren, my best friend and patient editor since ch10, who doesn’t even go here. so rest assured, it’s not (the royal) you; it’s me. 😔

AND NOW since you’ve either made it or scrolled to the end, the detailed depictions of the Memory of Harry by capitán solsikke under the cut, and their original posts from GOOMT’s blog:

POST FOUND HERE

AND BONUS ROUND: ACTOR AU

POST FOUND HERE

#silent hill #long post #goomt #ches writes #YEEHAW BABEY!!!!#THANK U TUMBLR USER HEATHERCHASESYOU YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKIN LEGEND #i s2g u make the world go 'round...... ur a total and undeniably genuine soul 😭🥚❤️❤️🙏🙏❤️🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚❤️❤️💖💖🥚🥚🥚 BLESSINGS ON U FOREVER

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seeminglyseph · 4 months

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I know this is like. Silly to look back on so often, but I also like… have not accomplished a fic this huge like. Ever. Since then, and I’m pretty sure I was manic at the time and that’s part of it.

But I do wonder sometimes if there’s like. “Normal” RvB fans who like. Go through the RvB AO3 section and go for the HSAU fic about the two villains from seasons 11-13 with these kinds of tags expecting crack smut fic they can riff on? And like. I know I’m not like… the greatest writer now and this is before I even went to University for English/Creative Writing (and dropped out but I’m hoping to eventually go back…) and seat of my pants manic writing is not the best way to create a narrative… it’s kinda like why you wanna make sure Steven King doesn’t do too much cocaine, things get a little crazy.

But I do feel like it’s like…. Surprisingly higher quality than the premise would imply? RvB HSAU about late season villains written technically before we got their backstory episodes, not featuring any of the main characters and with *those* tags? I also got Iritis in like… chapter 6.

I feel like there’s just a part of me that’s curious if there’s a secret reputation that I have no way of knowing about having kinda fallen out of the fandom since then… it’s a silly thing to wonder but sometimes I can’t help it. I guess like it’s that whole mix of wanting to leave an impact but also troll logic of knowing the concept of this story is innately ridiculous and I know people have judged it by tags alone because I was once put on an “RvB has a child predator problem” list based on the tags alone because antis have reading comprehension problems sometimes and can’t tell the difference between “this story has youths who engage in sexual activity please be warned” and “this is csem and I’m a monster” which was. Definitely an experience that freaked me out. I don’t even include explicit scenes because it squicked me out…. But they literally just scroll through the tags, a system used to warn people of content they don’t want to interact with, and then accuse people of the worst shit imaginable. Fucking absurd.

I’m not sure what I’m doing really right now… it’s been so long since I’ve written anything. I need some good motivation, and I think I’m just curious really if I do have a reputation or if people remember things I’ve written or created for some reason. Idk. That’s a weird thing probably to wonder about…

#navel gazing

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cryptixani · 2 years

Text

[MHA] tiktok thirst traps

i don't know why this came to my mind but uhh yeah, how likely some of the my hero characters are to make a tiktok thirst trap with you, what sound you'd use cause why not ig

All minor characters have been aged up to around eighteen or nineteen.

characters included: midoriya, bakugo, kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, shinsou, aizawa, shigaraki

Midoriya

yes but he's a bit awkward and clueless about it

he'd probably feel uncomfortable doing something particularly suggestive, would get inside his own head a bit too much and just embarass himself

but its okay, you can both get your giggles and try for take two with something more wholesome

i think you'd pick out guy.exe "i wish i could synthesise a picture perfect guy" and you'd both be vibin to it doing your lil dances having fun being all cute

and izuku gets a little confidence boost out of nowhere and decides to do a cheeky bicep flex at the "six feet tall and super strong" line

youre like "ayO" so hes immediately gone all shy and flustered and the video cuts off at that and no doubt you guys go viral

Bakugo

m a y b e but you would have to bEG

he just doesn't seem like the type to wanna be very active on social media in general tbh, probably uses the "it's wasting time that i could be spending working on getting closer to being the number one hero" excuse

IF you somehow manage to convince him i don't think he'd want his face in the video

you know the ones where one person is looking pretty in front of the camera and then beat drops and their partners hand comes in to grab their jaw and tilt their head in their direction offcamera? yeah he'd probably do that

and then adamantly denies it was him to anyone that asks but like ??? who else could it be bitch???

Kaminari

honestly he'd probably be the one to propose the idea in the first place pff

"babe babe bABE I HAVE THE BEST IDEA EVER HEAR ME OUT OKAY-"

already has like a whole production plan ready to go, sound picked out, just needs your pretty ass to help him make it

i think one of the 'glow up' ones where you start off in casual clothing but it cuts to yall looking like an absolute power couple in some hot fits, just showing each other off

the good old justin timberlake "talk to me boy" sound

he'd definitely post it on his own account too and tag you

Kirishima

yES HE WOULD BE SO HAPPY

honestly just couple bonding time for him and if it means he gets to have fun and show you off as his??? count him in

anything that shows you off especially, he just wants to show the world how pretty his baby is and how in love you two are <3

i'm thinking a cute lil doja cat moment with the "you're exciting boy come find me"

you're like facing each other and get closer as the song plays on, video cuts just before you two kiss

just cute and intimate and the comments are all like "when is it my turn to be happy" and "damn i want what they have"

Todoroki

yes but he would be absolutely clueless and probably also awkward in front of the camera so pick something easy for the poor man

he also probably doesn't see much point in making videos of which the sole purpose is to show strangers how attractive of a couple you two are, when he knows it, and you know it, so what more do you need? but he'll agree anyway cause he loves making you happy

probably best to just do a simple one of the two of you before you're about to go somewhere, so you're in nice clothes, and he's got his arm around your waist, and you're filming the both of you in your full length mirror

any sound with a nice slow beat and no words, absolute bare minimum but you still go viral overnight

Shinsou

yes but he's only agreeing to make you happy, not because he actually cares about making thirst traps

also would probably have to be low effort on his part or he can't be bothered

he'd enjoy the trend where he gets to lay between your thighs while you run your hand through his hair, down to stroke his jaw

i think it's to the sound thats like "whats the point of being rich when you wake up alone"

he'd probably have a lil moment where he looks directly in the camera with a smug smirk like "yeah i get to enjoy these perfect thighs whenever i like" and the comment section goes wild

honestly he'd be down to make a reversed version afterwards too where you're the one between his thighs

Aizawa

not really no

he's too tired and busy to go out of his way to film a silly video with you, and he wants to keep his identity more private anyway

however, if you manage to film a nice moment, and his face isn't in the video, then he could really care less about whether you posted it or not

i'm thinking something like a video of him neck down, carefully putting on your stilettos or any other fancy shoes you wear for you before a hero gala with that "why don't you love me daddy?" sound hhhhhhhhh and at the last second his hand wanders up a bit to affectionately stroke your leg

mega simpage in the comment section but honestly can you blame them?

Shigaraki

no absolutely not

does not want to be anywhere near the camera, whether his face is in it or not

it's more of a precaution honestly, he's one of the most wanted men in japan so posting anything in relation to him could end very badly

he's also probably a bit insecure about himself but he'd never admit that aloud

however, maybe, just maybe, if he really really trusts you and you swear to him on your animal crossing island that it's only gonna be for private use and will never be posted or seen by anyone other than the two of you, he just might reluctantly agree to film something without his face in it

and in that case, i'm thinking the "i don't get on my knees for no man" while you're sat on the floor between his knees, his gloved hand caressing your cheek gently

#mha x reader #mha hcs #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader #kaminari x reader #kirishima x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shinsou x reader #aizawa shota x reader #shigaraki x reader

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chaseadrian · 2 years

Text

intoxication

Adrian was an idiot at the best of times. Get a few drinks in him, and he’s an idiot who’s in love with you.

pairing: adrian chase x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, mention of violence, receiving oral, established relationship, compliments...like a lot, sub!adrian word count: 3.2k+ a/n: ahhhh this is my first time writing for Adrian and I hope yall like it!!

The man threw back beer most of the time, but if you asked what he wanted—and Chris wasn’t around—he’d order the pinkest drink on the menu. Stuffed with peach liqueur, blended strawberries and garnished with his own tiny umbrella from home, Adrian would suck those down and be onto the next before you could finish a beer. He could hold his own, lasted longer than you, but fuck did he take forever to sober up.

One dewy night you’re pulling him out of the bar, arms linked, and his forehead beaded with sweat as you make your way to the Sebring. He can walk just fine, but you’ve taken to guiding him ever since he saw a man pissing in the brick alley and drunkenly beat him to a pulp. It was dark enough that Adrian was unidentifiable, but you’d be remiss if something like that happened again on your watch. Thankfully, when your arm was in his he was too focused on cooing sweet little compliments your way to notice any misdemeanors in the immediate radius.

“You’re so pretty, like a little bunny. Like the Cadbury bunny, leaving sweet little chocolates wherever you go. Just the prettiest lady, in the bar and this parking lot and in my life.” Adrian’s speech wasn’t slurred, but it was slightly breathy, like his lungs were too full of air and the only way to get it out was by hurtling these compliments your way. “Pretty lips, and eyes, and I just wanna give you little kisses all the time.”

“Little kiss here.” Adrian brought your hand to his lips and left a little kiss on the back that was wetter than you maybe would’ve wanted. “And a little one here.” He turned your palm to give another. “And five little ones all over here.” His voice was sing-songy as he puckered his lips against each of your five fingers.

“And maybe a kiss…there?” He raised his free hand and pressed two fingers against your lips, letting his arm lazily drop as it slid along your mouth.

You licked your lips and they were sticky with the taste of sugar and citrus. Did the man dip his hands in his daiquiri or what?

“Let’s wait till we get home safe, okay?” You watched his expression shift to disappointment as you opened the passenger door to the Sebring and he slumped in.

The lost puppy dog look on his face was too much to handle, so you leaned down into the car to give him a small kiss. You intended it to be a little peck, but Adrian was quick to put his hands against the sides of your face and hold you there. His lips were also sticky and sweet, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to just stay there kissing him for the next several hours. Adrian’s tongue slid into your mouth as his lips parted and closed and pressed hard against yours in a rhythm that was so desperate it was almost nonexistent.

You grabbed onto one of his wrists, digging your nails in to get his attention. He stopped kissing you and just looked up through his eyelashes, glasses slid down the bridge of his nose.

“Adrian, home is only a five minute drive. Can my sweet boy wait?” Your breath hit his mouth and his lips formed a pout.

“Mmm…” he affirmed, head lolling around as he watched you walk around the front of the car to slide into the driver seat, “you can drive? Cause if you’re even a lil tipsy…” He lifted a hand and made a cutting motion along his throat, a lazy laugh following as his hand thumped back down at his side.

“I had two beers two hours ago, m’fine.” More than anything, you were tired and just wanted to fall into bed.

Adrian let his head fall to face you, and he was holding back laughter as he looked at you, “I know. You’re a pretty bunny, not a dumb one” He closed his eyes, “My pretty bunny that I just love sooo much.”

“Okay, I love you too, Adrian.” You turned the keys in the ignition and offered a hand to Adrian, who was just about falling over the middle console looking at you.

Rather than taking it, he adjusted his body and slumped over further to rest his head in your palm. You laughed, and the ride home was silent save for Adrian’s languid breaths as he stared at you with doe eyes and the smallest smile on his lips.

He was assailing your hand and arm with kisses when you pulled up to the house, and you decided to humor him by sitting there with the car parked for a minute or two until he realized you’d stopped.

“Hold on, shh, stay there.” He brought a finger to his lips as he shushed you and jumped out of the passenger seat, rushing over to the driver’s side to pull the door open and grab your hand.

“I’ll guide you now. This is my home.” He shut the car door behind you, and shook his head, “Our home. I was here first, but you should always feel welcome. Your name is on the lease, too, now.”

You laughed as he wrapped his arm around your back to bring you inside, because you knew he was dead serious. There wasn’t a hint of irony with that man, and you loved knowing exactly what you were getting with him.

Your gaze lingered on his profile as he walked you inside. The soft curls matting to his face in the heat, how much his nose jutted out of his face, the little mole on his cheek, the dimple in his chin as he frowned, his Adam’s apple thrumming in his throat as he rambled on about something you were too zoned out to be comprehending.

Adrian let go of you to fumble with the key in the lock, and he just about slammed the door open when he finally got it. He braced himself against the entry wall to kick his shoes off, and stretched a hand out towards you, which you took to steady yourself as you slid off your own.

“Kiss?” Adrian slides the hand you were holding up your arm, gripping your tricep to yank you close. “We are home. Also, we’re safe.” He shuffled the two of you towards the open door, kicking it with his foot to close it.

“The lock on that door is working.”

“Oh, is it? You’re sure it’s not a faulty one?” You draped your free arm over his shoulder, fingertips playing along the back of his neck.

He shivered, but looked at you with a strong frown, “I have no real way of knowing. But if someone does come in, I’ll fucking kill them. Or you will, probably.”

As you dragged your hand down the back of his t-shirt, along his spine, he shuddered deeper, and a small whine left his lips.

“Let me kiss you. Come on, please?” He pressed tighter against you, but you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him away slightly.

Silently, you slid from his grasp and into the bedroom, knowing he’d be on your heels and against your lips the moment you made it to the bed.

The room was illuminated by street lamps outside, and all you could see was his silhouette coming toward you in the dark room. He was so eager that his entire body fell on you as he tried to kiss you, both of you tumbling backwards onto the thick comforter. It didn’t deter him, of course, if anything it encouraged him to kiss you deeper and stronger.

“I need you. Please sit on me. My face, my dick. I don’t give a fuck. Please.”

His breath was hot and sweet as he spoke between kisses, tongue pressing into your mouth and sliding against yours. It felt as if he’d wanted every inch of your bodies together, his torso lay hard against you, not enough to crush you but enough that you knew that his mind had already dedicated this night to you. Your pleasure, your happiness; but you’d be stupid to think that he wasn’t also getting something out of this.

The man had come from kissing before, and he’d very nearly gotten there several times with his mouth between your legs. Nights that were about you were just as vindicating for him.

“You’re so pretty, so so pretty.” Adrian propped himself up with his fists on either side of your head, and your eyes dragged along the way his muscles pressed against his skin and you longed for them around your body, against your bare skin. He shifted his weight to one side so he could trace a finger against your hairline, flicking little strands out of your face to see you better.

He pet your face, running his thumb along your cheekbone and down to take your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You parted your lips, tilting your head down against his grasp to take his thumb in your mouth. You slid your tongue around and watched as he stared, his mouth agape and eyes wide with bewilderment. Between your legs you felt what you were doing to him, felt him jut his hips against you without control. A shuddered breath escaped his lips.

“Why don’t you get down on your knees?”

Adrian’s eyes shifted from your mouth to your eyes, and he slid his wet thumb against your now closed mouth, pulling on the corner and leaning down to give you a hungry kiss that filled your mouth with moans.

“Yes, okay. Yes.” He scooted off of you and onto his feet, dropping to his knees, fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans.

You could gauge how drunk he still was by the way his face twisted with frustration when he couldn’t immediately get it. By the way his patience wore out within ten seconds and he decided to instead yank your jeans down off your legs. He didn't even bother with your underwear, opting to press his mouth between your legs over the soft cotton, soaking the fabric with his saliva and your wetness after a few moments.

When you were good and wet, he pulled the fabric off to the side to press his tongue to your clit. The underwear dug into his skin, and as he continued sliding his tongue around you, desperate and fueled by your moans, he unintentionally ripped it away from you.

He stumbled to the side as the fabric gave, fist sliding over your thigh and gripping the now ruined underwear.

“Motherfuck—sorry. I’m sorry, I’ll replace them, I promise. I’ll go out first thing.” He looked up at you with furrowed brows and his lips in a frown, dimples in his chin kind of making the whole thing worth it. He looked so helpless, waiting for you to say something. Anything.

You leaned forward and put your hands on his shoulders, sliding your hands down his biceps, drawing the moment out just a bit longer. He had his hands on the outside of either thigh, thumbs tapping in wait.

“Adrian, it’s okay.” You whispered, and visibly saw the tension drop from his body, “But—”

You beckoned him with a finger, drawing him in close until he was just below your face, “I don’t think you were done down there. And if you think this night’ll end before you f—”

Cut off by a moan, Adrian was back between your legs in an instant. His hands slid up your thighs to your lower back, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and, as a result, tighter to his mouth. His tongue lapped slowly against you, pressed flat to get you wet, before he started to slide the tip around your clit, his mouth sucking lightly.

As your breathing got heavier, you had to prop yourself up on an elbow, while your free hand slid into Adrian’s hair, grabbing tight and holding him between your thighs. He responded by slipping his hand away from your back and underneath your shirt, up your torso, fingernails gliding along and giving you goosebumps. You felt a light vibration between your legs, and heard Adrian start to moan.

He sped up as he felt your chest heaving faster, moans turning to the sounds he’d make during a good meal. Sustained, guttural mmms almost making you laugh because fuck was he into this.

The only thing that stopped you was that you knew he’d take it to heart.

That, and the fact that his tongue was working you open so hard that you doubted you could laugh amidst the steady climb you were feeling. Your grip in his hair tightened, and you started to rut your hips against him, encouraging him to go faster. He put his hands on your hips and held you there firmly, keeping you from squirming away as you were prone to do without trying.

His hands held you so tight you hissed at the sharpness of his nails in your skin. You knew how strong you were, but it was often lost on you just how much stronger Adrian was physically. He could throw you around this room if you wanted. But both of you knew that where he wanted to belong was right here, on his knees, in front of you.

You both preferred it that way, too.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Adrian. My…good boy. My…” your words were failing to land as he worked harder to make you come, his own sounds exacerbated by the pet name.

He took a hand off your hip to palm the front of his jeans, his dick making the denim just that much more uncomfortable.

You took the opportunity of his lack of grip to fall back on the bed, letting go of Adrian’s hair, legs shuddering and arms outstretched to grasp at the sheets.

Adrian broke from your clit to kiss your inner thighs, leaving little marks with his teeth before he went back to finish you off. You were teetering on the edge already, that brief break all but sent you over, and when he rolled his tongue around your clit once again, you were gone.

You let your head fall fully back, digging into the mattress. If you’d been able to do anything but lie there trying your hardest to sink into the sheets, you would’ve seen Adrian peering up at you, drinking in the way your body looked as you came. You didn’t even give him a second to breathe before you were standing at the edge of the bed, pulling him up to yank off his clothes.

His shirt came off first, and you ran your hands down his torso. You crouched down to get his jeans off, kissing the boxer briefs to feel his hardness underneath. Adrian stared down, mouth agape as you pulled down his underwear and slid back up his body in one move, your tongue flat against his abs all the way up.

Too stunned to speak, Adrian let you take the lead and you pushed him down onto the bed, your shirt coming off a second later. You straddled him, sliding his dick between your lips and grabbing his hands to place them on your chest.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you, wanna come inside you, make you mine. I wanna…I wanna…” He trailed off, searching for the words when you stole them by sliding him inside you. He gasped, as if in pain, and his hands held tight to your waist, but he moved them to the top of your ass the moment you started to rock back and forth atop him.

Having already come once, you were focused on getting Adrian as messed up as you could. And nothing got him fucked up faster than the sight of you on top of him.

“Please…kiss me. Kiss me.” His eyes were screwed shut as you fucked him, and you obliged, leaning down to kiss first his pecs, then his collarbones, hitting each cluster of freckles you could find. You sucked a small hickey underneath his Adam’s apple, kissing all up along his neck around to behind his ear.

He writhed underneath you, “Come on. Kiss me.” His voice was soft and whiny, knowing that begging too blatantly would lead to more teasing.

You drug your lips against his jawline before finally touching his lips, but the second you were, one of his hands was tight on the back of your neck, fingers knotted at the base of your skull in your hair.

In all ways but one Adrian submitted to you. He’d be on his knees whenever you wanted, would fuck you however you liked. But kissing? That was his. The rhythm, the timing, the length, you’d gladly submit this one thing to him because fuck could the man kiss.

You kept grinding on him, his dick filling you up each time. Despite claims from…others, Adrian had big time boyfriend dick and you couldn’t get enough. It was perfect for you, and you were perfect for him.

There was nothing hotter than being on top of him and watching the expressions on his face shift. He was struggling to keep it together now as you bounced on him, your own pleasure making you desperate for him faster and harder and more.

He moved his hand from your neck and onto your hips to hold you steady as he started fucking up into you.

Even though he’d taken control, you knew by the look in his eyes that he was still at your mercy. Waiting for another kiss, or your hands on his chest, in his hair, around his arms.

You responded by burrowing into his neck, arms wrapping around and hanging loosely in his hair. You kissed him where you could reach, both of you fueled by the moaning that filled your ears.

Adrian came first, and you watched eagerly as his eyebrows knitted together and he rode out his orgasm, pressing hard, broken thrusts into you as he did.

You grinded against him as he cooled down, and he pressed a thumb to your clit to help you get to your second orgasm of the night. It was a small one, but you looked him in the eyes and rode it out, watching a close lipped smile spread across his face. You leaned down to kiss it off of him, shuddering as the final shockwaves left your body.

He wrapped his arms around you, keeping himself inside you as you lay on his chest.

“Mmm, thank you.” You could hear the sleep in his voice, feel his jaw move as he yawned.

You looked up at him, “For what?”

He shrugged with a smile, blinking slow but watching you intently.

You rolled off of him, too tired to care about the mess this instant. The sheets needed to be washed soon anyway.

He turned to face you, arms tucked under his head. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your nose.

“Everything, I think.” He scooted as close to you as he could get and closed his eyes.

You lay there, watching him fall asleep, the air hot and pushing you towards sleep.

Wrapping a loose sheet around the two of you, it was only moments before you obliged.

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #adrian chase #mine #my writing

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