deadsetonsurvival-blog

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

Husband

                          He had woken slowly. Like out of a deep sleep where nobody                           had bothered to wake him. Reminded him of the times he’d                           slept through classes in college. Woken up to a pissed and                           balding professor. Hadn’t been his fault eco was boring shit.

              He felt dizzy. Disoriented. Weak.               Hated each with a passion.               Couldn’t even open his damn eyes               for more than a few seconds.               But his first thought was of her.               Olivia. His love. His wife.

                                                The fact that he thought of a meatlover’s                                                 pizza a good five minutes after clearly did                                                 speak of her importance to him, right?

But people kept talking to him. Saying things. Making his head hurt like a bitch. Like he’d– Fuck. Oh fuck. Five fucking years?

                                   W H A T  THE  F U C K?

                      Then the door opened and she was there. Right there.                       Right where he needed her the most. Crying. His eyes                       opened slowly and he stared at her. Just stared. Then                       he mustered the energy and he smiled. Turned his hand.

             “Dreamt of you.”

                  Fate was such a twisted piece of work, bringing                    them together only to  t e a r   them apart. There                    where times the pain numbed her to the point                    where she felt NOTHING. The good, the bad...                   they fused into one big pile of nada. And now                    with his blue hues piercing back into her soul, in                    a way they had not done for FIVE years, Olivia felt                    it all, crashing into her in waves. Until she was so                     overwhelmed she struggled to breathe, forgot                    how one inhales & exhales. Such a simple exercise...

                                    Fingers hooked to his palm, seizing tightly as his hand                                     shifted, her bottom lip quivering and the hot tears streaming                                     along her cheeks until she finally succumbed,                                     FELL TO HER KNEES.

Sobs were muffled into his flesh, forehead pressed to his hand, until she finally ran out of tears to shed, free hand reaching for his temple, brushing his messy hair slightly. Olivia forced herself to regain composure, shifted until the hand at his temple brushed his  cheek while she hovered over her spouse.

                                                                         ❛ And I dreamt of    y o u.                                                                                      every day. ❜

                                                   For five years, he had haunted her.                                                    Sometimes in her sleep, other times                                                    when she was wide awake.

                      ❛ Please don’t leave me..  ❜

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

psa;;

I am on a semi-hiatus until Monday.

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

ahaha yeah my feelings for that character have totally calmed down [sees picture of them] ahaha never mind. aha. ha. i lied. i fucking lied. i lied so much ahahaha i’m a fucking liar i have no control in my life ahaha help me

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

why I like abusive ships.

I like abusive/ dysfunctional/ unhealthy ships. I like them because they’re different than the typical “fluffy” ships. I like them because their angst is different than what “normal” ships go through and the dynamic is interesting. I like abusive and dysfunctional and unhealthy ships because abusive and dysfunctional and unhealthy relationships exist and it’s important to recognize them for what they are. I am not a bad person who thinks these sort of relationships are good  and healthy, I am a person who is interested by the dynamics and character development that occurs in such ships and I am a person who believes others need to be made aware of these relationships because they actually exist. I am not justifying the actions of the characters, nor am I denying that these ships are abusive and unhealthy. I am appreciating them as plot and character development devices while acknowledging that the are abusive and unhealthy.

Tl;dr, please stop shaming people for liking abusive ships. Liking an abusive ship does not mean I support abuse.

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

¦ DR. REID

a killer is not always found, or even  noticed, some times. there are arou- nd thirty five to fifthy active each yea- r, with about three victims each.   it’s  hardly expected for them to catch  th- em all, but when     they’re on a case,  there is no rest until the unsub is cau- ght. he hands over the child to the vic- tim, careful movements.

  ❛ i won’t. ❜

a step back as he offers the baby, trembling hands held up as a silent explanation. if she is trusted with her own   b l o o d  she might just drop him. part of her refuses to accept ths new reality, one without her parents, where it’s just her & a baby.

            ❛ i don’t think i can do this. ❜

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

¦ DR. REID

he holds the small creature, such a beautiful and   fragile little thing it is.  spencer can’t help but smile at the sight of it. he adjust the ba- by, careful to hold him right. 

  ❛ hi there, little guy. ❜

liv was tired, beyond exhausted. one trip, one road trip and somehow she had escaped the evil grasp of a serial killer; one who SLAUGHTERED her parents, held her baby brother hostage. even when BAU  p r o m i s e d to return him to her, safe and sound, the brunette struggled to trust that they would.

                           until she saw HIM with the baby.

    quick steps brought her to him, wide chocolate hues       searching for injuries, but she found none. her baby       brother was UNHARMED, but appeared so delicate,       so fragile in the so called Dr’s arms.

                                                                   ❛ please don’t drop him. ❜

                       and despite the grief causing that tightness in her chest,                        olivia smiled gently, the back of her finger caressing the                        baby’s cheek, inducing giggles in his small form.

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

oforiginalsin:

A huntress skilled in the field of all things deadly and destructive and she was worried about a squirrel? Finn knew her better than that. She obviously had other intentions, a reasoning behind why she wanted him to tag along. Or perhaps, the unthinkable had happened: she’d actually missed the Original and wanted to spend a little quality time with him outside of the bedroom for once. Either way, he was just glad that the brunette decided to stop by. She always made his day and if he were lucky, that day would extend into a few days, maybe even a long weekend. But, such was rare. 

                                               “Sure thing, wouldn’t want you to get attacked                                                  by a chipmunk. Those dastardly little pests.”

Her latest quip was one he didn’t intend to take seriously, yet the smile she gave to him when his hand was placed around her neck told him differently. His fingertips were delicate at first, skimming across her throat, before he pressed a little firmer. Blue eyes fixated upon the area of skin that concealed her jugular, as he pushed against it. He could hear the restriction in her vein and it made him smirk; he understood why heightened sensitivity on her end would be fun, especially while they fucked. 

                        “It’s.. something we could work                          on. I’d much rather choke you                          with bigger apparatus. But, if                          this is what you want then I’m                          willing to take it for a test drive.”

If he asked, she would claim to simply miss the physical aspects of their relationship. It was a lie, of course. One he would undoubtedly believe unless she spoke with sarcasm. In which case he might find humor in her claims. But the brunette was confident that her bedfellow would not insist on questioning her request that he join her while walking his dog. By now, she was certain that Finn was terrified she might be hurtful and avoided any emotional topics all together.

                                               ”Don’t mock me Mikaelson. I have half                                                      a mind to let your dog run away.”

She had anticipated hesitation on the Original’s end, yet he was simply taking his time, testing the different places and amounts of pressure. Sure enough his fingers were denting her neck, the slight lack of oxygen making her that much sensitive to his touch. Yes, she definitely wanted to try this the next time the two found themselves naked and seeking pleasure. She was almost tempted to forget about the damn walk and just pounce him. But sex would have to wait. As if running from temptation Liv hooked the leash to George’s collar, lead them all away from Finn’s house, which was often home to their fuck fests.                        "I think I’ve gagged on your cock                        the sufficient amount of times to                        know what to expect. This time,                        you’ll be inside me while you                         choke me. It’ll be something new. ”

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

starter call!!

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

oforiginalsin

 Finn didn’t expect her to actually take him up on the offer. It came as somewhat of a shock, considering the huntress never had the time or patience for George, yet the dog continued to love her. The task was not on Liv’s list of to-do. He was grateful however, that she had showed up, if only to see the pet. The Original had truly missed her, not that he supposed she would want to hear about it. Affection was something he tried to reserve for times that were necessary, given his ex’s attitude toward it. His romanticized nature defied it. Finn was undeniably loving, to a fault in this case. 

                                                 ”Do you want me to come?”

  Brows furrowed at her question, confusion evident, he wasn’t sure quite how to take it. “It’s not my intention to keep us on a leash.” Yes, admittedly he was possessive and jealous, wanting Liv all to himself on occasion, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to be her own person or live her own life. Hadn’t that fact already been proven during their time apart?                         "If you’re talking about a physical leash, for sexual endeavours..                          I don’t think you would enjoy having me tying you up and owning you.”  

At times, despite his efforts, Finn’s affection for her was quite obvious. The only prolonged relationship Liv had ever experienced had been a six month fuck buddy agreement. But it had been conducted in an almost business-like fashion. Whatever she had with Finn - and she continuously refused to label them - was anything but. It was impulsive and irrational. Yet she always came back to it. Long enough that his damn dog knew and liked her.

                                                ”I would like you too, yes. In case your dog                                                   goes crazy over a squirrel or something.”

Liv just really wanted the Original to tag along. Using his dog as pretense worked for her. But his words caused her eyes to roll. Sure, he had his own ability to grow jealous, lose his calm over it but Liv actually enjoyed that side of his, often provoked it into surfacing. Her hand sized his wrist and she brought his fingers to his neck.                        "I wouldn’t enjoy being tied up.                          Maybe I was simply implying                            that I wanna be choked. ”

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

allthingsmusings:

icon/gif here (if you got one)

Who’s more likely to find who wearing their clothes?: Who enunciates hand holding?: Who likes having their hair washed by who?: Who likes to slow dance?: Muse that’s more likely to fall asleep with their head in the others lap?: Muse that does all the cuddling in a blanket fort?: Who hogs most of the covers at night?: Muse who nuzzles the others shoulder to get them to give them a head rub?: How do they share a desert? Two forks or one?: Who gets jealous more easily?: Who gets angered more easily? How do they go to sleep at night?: Who gets the most shoulder rubs?: What are there arguments/fights like? How often do they fight?: Who is more likely to throw things in fights?: How do they make it up to each other/apologize after an argument? Do they have nicknames for each other?: Caring for each other while ill, how does the other muse go about it?: Who’s more likely to be patching the others wound?: Muse that says ‘I told you so’, after they come home from the beach and other muse is burnt to a crisp while whining how bad it hurts for not listening and putting on sunblock after the other muse repeatedly told them they’d get burnt?: Your otp has a newborn baby, who gets up in the middle of the night when he/she cries?: Your muse’s of the otp reaction to finding the others crying about something? And how do they make them feel better?: What would they be like as parents?: What would they have been like as childhood sweethearts? Who enunciates taking a bath together?: Who likes who playing with their hair?: The place they mostly likely accidentally fall asleep together?:

Inbox me a SHIP and I’ll do this | fluff otp edition

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

you know what ?

people are allowed to be exclusive on their own blogs. people are allowed to be selective on their own blogs. people are allowed to be private on their own blogs. it’s about being comfortable on their own blogs.

but another thing that people seem to be afraid to say…

there are writers that are better than others. there are portrayals that are better than others. there are people who are more ‘quality’ than others.

if someone doesn’t want to write with you…

whether it’s because they already write with a version of your muse or they don’t like your portrayal or your writing or they don’t like you… that’s their prerogative because it’s not your blog.

get over it, move on. 

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

              It had been weeks since she had last crossed               paths with Sam Winchester. She knew he was               still in town and with each passing day that he               remained, her paranoia grew. Eventually,               it got the best of her. Olivia had  never been               particularly PATIENT. Less so when she had               her suspicions. She should have looked into               Sam’s past, should have learned what it               fully meant to bring a hunter’s child into this               world. Not any hunter, but a  W.I.N.C.H.E.S.T.E.R.

                                              She soon came to regret not doing so.                                               Not knowing... It caused her distressed                                                 throughout her ( pregnancy ). She settled                                               for keeping tabs on any cases regarding                                               babies. Things had changed, however.                                                When it was just her, she could                                               ignore the problem until it went away, but                                               if said problem could put at stake her                                               daughter’s safety... 

Having swallowed her  p r i d e, Liv contacted Sam, sent a short note, tucked the baby for her afternoon nap and descended to the foyer. She almost expected him to not show, but perhaps a part of her knew he would. As he did. The butler was dismissed as soon as she stood, no time for polite greetings. 

                                  ❝ I know you have an agenda of your own,                                       so I’ll keep this short: what can you tell me                                      about this thing? Because if two is coincidence                                       and three’s PATTERN, then what the hell is this? ❞

                          Olivia handed him a bunch of files, names of                           mothers who died in fires, within their babies’                           nurseries. On their babies sixth month of birth.                           To the date. Catalina was not yet there. But she                           would be within a week. And Olivia could not                           have her daughter grow motherless as she had. 

Maybe she should have dug into Sam’s past, maybe then she’d realize how close to home this was. Instead she looked angry, maybe even scared to those who knew her, knew to look for the signs. If she were lucky, Sam & Dean would have picked up on this before it got to her hands, solved it. 

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

Sam;;

   He could hear the click of her heels before even seeing her.    She had a strange habit of always finding him here. Buried    in his books, notebooks spread around, his hair a mess and    mood easily capable of turning into grouchy.

          Wasn’t her fault, really. Just shit timing.

                                  Truth be told, he almost liked the attention.                                   Just wasn’t too very fond of someone so..                                   – – out of his league.

               Was he a game to her?

                    “You’re drunk.”

     He’d meant to compliment her but being blunt was a by-      product of notebook #7 being filled with notes on a case      and the application for an internship nearly filled-out to      the way he thought was the absolute best.

            She sat and he instinctively tucked in his long legs.             Figures, he thought, her going to the formal. The             dress did her plenty of justice and bared enough             skin that he kept his attention on the law book and             his nearly-completed notes. But he listened.

                                           She was very wrong.

                                     “No.”

                     Maybe if he told her, she’d.. well, he didn’t know what.

                “I think you’re beautiful. A hard worker who enjoys                      letting off steam. Your background isn’t important.                      If you have money, good for you. But you do talk                      too much. That I agree with.”

   In high school { boys }  were something to be    avoided at all costs. They could easily become    a distraction and Olivia could not AFFORD that.   Three weeks into college and she had seen  h i m     for the first time. Ever since... well, it was just a   journey, wasn’t it? He refused to call her. Didn’t   find her around campus or converse with her.   It was she who had to chase after him.

                                              Too many times to count, she had lectured                                               herself. But she couldn’t shake him off.                                               No matter how hard she tried.                                              So she caved in.

                 ❝ Drunk is such a terrible word. And, in this case,                      INCORRECT. The term you’re looking for is  ( tipsy )  ❞

                             Chocolate hues danced along his features,                              studying him while she released a quiet giggle.                              Definitely not drunk. If he saw her  d r u n k ...                                      ----- probably best that he did not.

        God, he was beautiful.

                                                          He spoke and suddenly her mind was empty,                                                          only really paying attention to that which he                                                          said rather than what they meant.

                                  ❝ You refused to call. I get to assume the worst. ❞

     It seemed to be her only defense,      though she looked at him patiently,      studied him rather SHAMELESSLY.      Nothing like a majority of the boys      she knew. It wasn’t his lack of interest      that made the brunette p i n e  for      him. It was... just him.

               ❝ I have no filter most time. Don’t expect                   me to apologize for it. Just as I won’t                   apologize for my achievements.

                      Or my wanting you. ❞

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

Sam;;

The jacket shrugged into, tab paid, and the night air welcomed. Yeah, it stank of the city, of body odor and sewage, not to mention fumes of vehicles, but it was better than the cold, perfumed air surrounded the rich and his bitterness. His hands flexed and someone walking by made a point to walk around. A big man, looking angry and embittered, just seemed like a good person to avoid overall. Sam either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to comment.

“I forgot how much you talk,” he muttered and ignored the threat of shelling out two grand for footwear. But he slowed, just enough that she didn’t have to run to keep up and if she fell, it’d be out of her own clumsiness, not because of him. He recalled her being pretty graceful, though, and secretly regretted the bitter thoughts. But he did come to a full stop and faced her. In that instant, in a flash of seconds, it was there. The full force of his anger, even though he didn���t even step closer to her, make any threatening moves. “Dean is dead,” he snapped. “I’m here because he got dragged into hell, I’m trying to bring him back.”

6′4... an entire foot taller than her, blood boiling with anger, most of which was clearly directed towards her and yet the girl foolishly insisted on chasing after him when most sensible people would at least let him cool off. But when had they ever done that? The few times they had fought in the past, they settled their differences in bed. That was no longer an option, but like hell if she was just going to stop arguing with him. “It’s about the only thing that hasn’t changed,” she hissed, all but too aware that her tongue could hardly ever be kept under control.

Graceful as she was, Olivia could have run after him. She would just rather not. Her posture was corrected as she stood facing him, still significantly shorter than him despite her heels. She regretted not collecting her coat because now she stood in nothing but a short bandage dress, surrounding by the chilly night breeze of New York. If she was surprised to hear of Dean’s death, she chose not to show. It took restraint, of course, but she merely forced her facial muscles to remain as they were: blank. It made sense now, his anger, rage. Everything summed up: her shutting him out, Dean dying... “Have you been doing drugs?” she asked and stepped closer to check his eyes. Maybe just alcohol then. “New York won’t help you get what you want. Just get what you need from here and leave, Sam. Trust me on this one. There’s nothing for you here.” Oh, but there was. If he knew about Catalina... it would distract him momentarily and then he would only want Dean back that much more. In the process he might have himself killed and then both Olivia and her daughter would have to mourn him. “Leave as soon as you can.”

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

He was tense, but that was now the life of Sam Winchester. Searching for answers he couldn’t seem to find. Calling in favors that lead to dead ends. Selling his possessions just to get more favors. Nearly dying so many times in the attempts. He needed his brother back. So far? He was doing a damn bang-up job about failing. But wasn’t that his role in the family? The failure, the freak.

“Thanks,” he answered in a near-curt tone. It wasn’t entirely her fault, his being this way. Yeah, she’d been the triggering start of his newly hellish life, but had she been the one who killed him? Had she been the one who prompted Dean to sell his soul? No. She’d just been the one who broke his heart and helped him into the downward spiral of too much anger and a nasty vengeance streak.

Her question was a good one. If he didn’t have a target in mind, if a source hadn’t pointed very blatantly to the bustling metropolis, Sam would have happily avoided the Big Apple. He knew she was still in the city, had known the chances of running into her were very slim. But looking at her now, he regretted everything about following this lead. “My job,” he answered simply enough and looked over, took a small sigh when a man exited the.. well, he guessed it was a lounge for the rich. Made his skin crawl. Without excusing himself to his former flame, Sam approached the man and knew he was recognized almost immediately. “Jonas. Can we talk?”

She had really done it this time. He was so angry, so fucked off... Olivia had never triggered this side of his in the past. Sure, she had hurt him, was well aware of that. Perhaps she had even humiliated him. But this... no, this was new. Terrifying and heartbreaking, but new.

The job... good. Then he would be gone soon. Where was her escort? Her father insisted on constant bodyguards since her incident of three years ago, but it didn’t make it any more easier for her. Specially when she knew they stood no chance again anything supernatural, much less a demon. Should one ever target her again. But her guards were portrayed as dates. And that should have Sam leaving. Apparently, it was not necessary, as he soon left, greeting and speaking to another man. Jonas... did she even know him? Did it even matter? He was here on a job, would soon be gone and she could resume her life. And that of her daughter’s. “Goodbye to you too,” she mumbled quietly, rolling her eyes before she walked away and entered the waiting car. She had mourned their past, what they had had before everything... fell apart. Olivia was done crying. And this man... it wasn’t the man she had loved. Just wasn’t.

You ?!

[deadsetonsurvival-blog]

Sam;;

He had to swallow the lump in his throat. Not that it came from nerves but something much more dangerous: desire. The heated, pulsating, recklessly powerful kind. Something he had worked so hard to control.

But he wanted her. Hungrily, if the dark gleam in his eyes said anything. Dangerously, if the heat in his blood gave warning. Completely, as his hold to her wrist wasn’t bruising in the slightest. He wanted to hear that moan she gave when he kissed her lips, when he laid her down and tasted her flesh with his mouth. Ached, in fact, to hear her gasp his name when he found the secrets that brought pure pleasure flooding in.

Sam watched with those dangerous eyes as his hand was guided lower, as he stepped closer to her. “I’m not most people,” he warned gruffly and released her, stopped his guided hand at the band of the borrowed boxers. Closer still, well aware that he was very much clothed and she far from it. Right until he began to lower himself, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I don’t have any intention of laying you down in a bed until you’re not able to stand.” Husky words rasped against her flesh as his lips trailed from her shoulder to the valley between her breasts, going to his knees as the boxers pooled at her ankles and were tossed aside. Lips dallied at her hips, teeth scraping as he looked up at her. “So I suggest you hold on,” he murmured before kissing her intimate center, skilled tongue caressing her folds.

They were lost in the wanting of one another. It was rather counter productive to even attempt to resist whatever linked the pair. Their time was already limited, why spend it trying to stay away from the other?! But it was consuming. And probably toxic, given their ties to the supernatural. Fuck, if she cared about that right now.

Greater than the fear of consequences was the desire, the lust she felt. Sure, if asked, Liv would blame it all on those 18 months she had lost to a damn demon rather than the fatal attraction, but she knew... deep inside she knew Sam would be harder to let go of, to forget than those other faceless men she fucked back in the day.

While most girls would probably feel self conscious, having been bared before him while his body was still concealed by clothing, Liv hardly seemed to mind it much. Nudity had never really bothered her much. Intimacy, on the other hand... And that was why her breath hitched when he spoke against her skin. Her fingers massaged his scalp as the tall hunter trailed his lips between her breasts, causing her eyelids to momentarily close. It did not occur to her that she might stop him even though she had never really done oral - be it giving or receiving. That was too personal, too intimate. And she hadn’t stopped him even when she knew where Sam was headed. The brunette only thought to do as instructed, hands seizing his broad shoulders for leverage as he began pleasuring her with his mouth, tongue far too skilled to be true. This was going to be her undoing. “Jesus- fuck!” Words were hissed, hues darkening as she watched him, could not look away. Even when her teeth bit down hard on her bottom lip, she continued to quietly moan, body tensing with each stroke of his tongue to her slit. Why had no one ever told her how fucking mind blowing this was? Her body trembled and when she rose to her toes, attempting to regain control over herself, the pleasure only heightened. Leg muscles flexed before her thighs trembled around his face. There was no way she was going to hold up when she reached her peak. No way. Her head fell back after a particularly forceful wave of pleasure, abdominal muscles clenching and juices dripping. “Fuck,” she growled, a snarl playing at her lips.

✢