#that sounds weird but i mean the filters you use

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 3

part one | two | three - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

(requests open)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4921

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate (soulbound) & time travel au, english is not my first language, i took names of professor in harry's time (it's easier that way)

NOT PROOFREAD :D - thank you for 200 followers 😭😭🫶

you were walking through the hogwarts courtyard, bundled up in your robes as the wind carried a hint of the colder months that were coming. the sun filtered through the canopy of orange and red, it was a cold day without the sun. as you approached the gryffindor common room after breakfast, you spotted lucas - tall, with his messy black curls and easygoing grin, leaning casually against the wall

"there you are!" he called out, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you. "i've been look for you. fancy coming with me to hogsmeade? i've got some things to pick up, and i thought you could use a break from all the studying."

you raised an eyebrow, interested. "and by 'things', you mean what exactly?"

"important stuff!" lucas replied with mock seriousness. "like sweets from honeydukes and a new quill, since i keep losing mine. and, of course, we have to stop at zonko's - can't leave without some supplies for our next prank on maeve."

you let out a laugh, feeling the tension of the past few days years slip away. you figured you could use a shopping day - it was a saturday after all, you could just study after. "sounds like a plan, though i'm not sure if maeve would be happy with another one of your 'masterpieces'."

"she'll survive. besides, i've got a new idea that'll totally blow her mind, just wait and see," lucas nudged you, playfully.

as the you made your way down the long, winding path to hogsmeade, a sleek black cat caught your eye. it seemed to be lingering just out of reach, you'd seen the cat a few times today, always trailing a few paces behind, watching you with its bright, curious green eyes. it had followed you from the common room to the courtyard, through the grounds, and now as walking behind you and lucas as though it belonged with the two of you.

"look at that," you murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the cat. "it's been following me this enitre day."

lucas turned around, narrowing his eyes slightly at the feline. "huh, that's a little weird, don't you think? cats don't usually follow people around for no reason."

you crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. to your surprise, it didn't hesitate. the cat padded forward and nuzzled your palm, its fluffy and soft fur was warm, despite the chill in the air. you smiled, scratching it behind the ears.

"i think it likes me," you said, looking up at lucas. "maybe it's a stray. what do you think?"

lucas crossed his arms and looked at the cat with a suspicious look. "it's a little too good to be true, don't you think? a mysterious black follow you around hogwarts. you know there are loads of horror stories about witches using cats as spies, right?"

"you're paranoid," you rolled your eyes at him, but smiled.

"i'm cautious," lucas corrected, though there was a small teasing glint in his eyes. "but if you're set on keeping it, we should make sure it's not... i don't know, an animagus or something. better safe than sorry, right?"

"you think someone's been using this little thing to spy on me?"

lucas shrugged, but he was already pulling out his wand. "could be, perhaps. there's a simple charm to check for such things, it won't hurt the cat - you have my promise."

you stood up and took a step back, "okay, but i'm telling you, it's just a normal cat."

lucas raised his wand, pointing it at the cat as he muttered the incantation under his breath. a faint blue light shimmered from the tip of his wand. it surrounded the cat for a moment before fading away.

you both stared at the cat in silence, holding your breath, waiting for whatever that was about to happen. but the cat just blinked up at you, then licked its paw nonchalantly.

lucas let out a breath, "phew.. what do you know? it's just a regular old cat."

"told you," you smirked, "looks like you're now stuck with me and my new pet."

the cat - as if it sensed your affectionate words, let out a soft purr and wound itself around your legs once more. you knelt down and scratched behind its ears again. a bond was already beginning to form. the only problem was the lice and many more things that was scattered across its fur.

"alright, alright," lucas said, laughing. "i suppose it shouldn't be a problem."

with the cat in tow, you and lucas continued down the path to hogsmeade. the bustling village was already alive with students and locals, shops were gleaming with fresh stock and festive decorations for upcoming festivities. as you entered honeydukes, the warmth of the shop's interior enveloped you, along with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

"so, what's your go-to sweet?" lucas asked as he grabbed a basket; eyeing the chocolate frogs with heart eyes.

"maybe the peppermint toads?" you said with a grin, grabbing a small bag from the shelf. "they're the perfect balance of sweet and refreshing."

lucas pulled a face, "you're a maniac. it's all about the fizzing whizzbees."

both of you wandered through the aisles, piling your basked high with various candies - sugar quills, licorice wands, jelly slugs. at one point, lucas tried to sneak a handful of bertie bott's every flavour beans into your bag, but you caught him just in time.

"you're not tricking me into eating vomit-flavored beans again!" you narrowed your eyes at him.

lucas laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "fine, fine. i'll save it for someone else."

after stocking enough sweets to last long enough (almost a month), you and lucas headed to zonko's. the shop was just as chaotic as expected, filled with exploding fireworks, laughing gas, and all manner of joke items. lucas was in his element, darting from one display to the next with an excitement you hadn't seen since your first year at hogwarts when you'd go shopping with the weasley's.

it made you wonder if there was a weasley in this timeline, or a potter, surely there must-

"i've got it," lucas broke your trance, holding up a box nose-biting teacups. "we'll switch maeve's regular tea with one of these. can you imagine the look on her face?"

you shook your head, grinning, "you're terrible."

"hey! you're the one who agreed to come with me," he replied, winking. "makes you an accomplice."

after spending almost an hour in zonko's, you finally dragged lucas away before he bought the entire store. the two of you made your way back to hogwarts, the pockets of your robes stuffed with sweets, joke items, and - in your case - also a black cat nestled happily in your arms.

"already thought of a name?" lucas asked as you strolled along the path.

you looked down at the cat, who had fallen asleep in your arms, still purring softly. "i'm not so sure yet, maybe something like 'shadow' maybe?"

"shadow," lucas mused, "hm, not bad, fits the while 'following you everywhere' thing it's got going on."

you laughed, feeling the warmth of the cat's fur against you. despite the whirlwind of chaos that had brought you here, there was something so comforting about the small creature that had decided to be your companion.

and as you and lucas made your way back to the castle, joking and teasing each other, you felt like things were normal. like you were just a regular student at hogwarts, living in a time untouched by war and dark magic.

you went to sleep that day feeling better already with the small feline curled up at the end of your bed, purring, its little collar having a little bell that you bought in a shop.

the following morning you made your way down the main aisle, the familiar hum of chatter and clicking of cutlery filling the air. it was officially your second week at hogwarts, and though you were still getting used to the time period, you started to have a routine.

you reached the gryffindor table and spotted your friends, already gathering around a platter of toast and eggs, some of them had pancakes. they waved you over and made space as you slipped onto the bench beside them.

“morning y/n!” maeve greeted brightly, pushing a pitcher of pumpkin juice toward you. her curly hair was a little wild this morning, as if she didn’t care. “sleep well?”

you poured yourself a glass, “pretty well, all things considered. i think i’m getting used to these weird ancient beds.”

alicia snorted, her red hair falling into her eyes as she reached for a stack of pancakes. “weird ancient beds? try getting used to the weird ancient ghosts! i had nearly headless nick hovering over my bed last night telling some kind of story about jousting. i barely slept.”

“better nick than peeves, though. that poltergeist kept chucking ink at me during charms yesterday,” maeve giggled, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

you laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest that you weren’t expecting. these girls had made everything feel… lighter. the constant worry in the back of your mind lessened. here, in the morning sunlight with breakfast laid out before you, you almost forget the real reason why you were here.

“mm, speaking of charms,” mave said, glancing at her timetable. “we’ve got it again this morning. think professor flitwick will finally let us practice summoning spells?”

“i certainly hope so,” lilith spoke as quiet as ever, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “right? i’ve been dying to try action on something bigger. imagine being ahle to summon an entire plate of pastries!” lucas exclaimed.

“as if we need more reasons for you to get distracted during class, luca,” alicia rolled her eyes.

they continued to chatter about the day ahead, while you found your gaze wandering around. the students were busy with their own conversations, some were studying, others were yawing over cups of tea while some were also scribbling down last-minute notes for their morning classes. everything felt so normal.

when your eyes landed on the skye thing table, the illusion of normalcy shattered. you’d almost forgot about him.

tom riddle. he was sat at the center, surrounded by his usual group of admirers. he was composed, elegant even, as he buttered a piece of toast. speaking quietly to a blonde male next to him.

you looked away quickly before his group - or him, could notice you staring. “you’re awfully quiet this morning,” maeve nudged you with her elbow.

“everything alright?”

you gave a smile, hoping it didn’t look to strained. “yeah, just thinking about today.”

“don’t worry about it too much, it’s only the second week,” lucas smiled. “besides, you’re part of the group now, we’re in this together.”

“no backing out,” lilith added, and for a second you thought you’d melted

you smiled, relaxing. you felt it reach your eyes, a sense of belonging wandered around in the back of your mind.

breakfast continued and so did the conversation to more light-hearted topic. alicia’s and lilith’s excitement about the next hogsmeade trip, lucas’ plans for another elaborate prank on their dormmate, and maeve’s ongoing battle with peeves. you listened, laughed, and chimed in the conversation whenever you could.

maeve slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. “come on, y/n. let’s see if we can make it to flitwicks class before luca drags us to the kitchens for more pastries.”

“i resent that,” lucas called over his shoulder, “but i do want more pastries.”

you smiled and grabbed your bag as you followed them out of the great hall, trying to savour the last few minutes of peace before the day truly began.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡charms class:

when you arrived at the charms class it was buzzing with quiet energy as tired students filed in, quills and textbooks clutched in their hands. you took a seat next to maeve, on your left side - behind another desk with space in between you two, sat another girl - slytherin.

"good morning, everyone! today, we will be practicing summoning charms - accio!" professor flitwick said loudly, standing on a stack of books at the front of the class, as he clapped his hands to get the attention of all the students.

an exciting murmur passed through the room. you realised how in their fifth year they learn about summoning spells in this timeline, while in harry's timeline you learned more defensive spells, or memory spells. the difference was huge.

summoning charms were pretty basic, but growing up in times like you did, you almost had no time getting used to a simple spell like accio, while you could easily obliviate someone or use the patronus charm.

"partner up!" flitwick instructed. you turned to look at maeve, who was already grinning at you.

"i've been practicing this all week," maeve said, wiggling her eyebrows. "let's see if i can summon a bigger thing than a quill this time."

"alright, but if you summon a desk by accident, you're responsible ," you teased her, setting your wand on your desk.

meave pointed her and at one of the cushions flitwick had left for practice. "accio cushion!" she shouted, her wans slicing through the air.

the cushion zoomed toward her, though it wobbled slightly before landing in her arms. "not bad, right?"

you clapped lightly, "that was impressive!"

maeve jokingly gave a little bow to you, "your turn!"

you focused on a cushion that was lying a few feet away, envisioning it flying smoothly into your hands. after a flick of your wand, you called out, "accio cushion!"

the cushion shot toward you with more speed than you expected, hitting you on your chest slightly and it knocked you back slightly. you laughed catching it just in time. maeve bursted into giggles beside you.

"well, at least it's working," you said with a grin, putting the cushion down, you glanced around the room and caught sight of tom. he was practicing at the far end of the classroom. he performed the spell flawlessly, his cushion gliding into his hands with barely a flick of his wrist. his focus was intense, almost unnerving.

you quickly turned towards maeve again, not wanting to dwell on him.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡potions class:

the potion classroom in the dungeons was dark and cool, the only source of light was flickering. a mushy and earthy scent of ingredients filled the air as you sat down next to alicia at one of the tables near the back.

"right," alicia said, pulling out her ingredients. "i've got a good feeling about today's potion. we're supposed to make something simple, so there's no way i can accidentally melt my cauldron like last week."

you snickered. "simple or not, i still think you have a way to make the easiest potions chaotic."

before alicia could respond, professor slughorn's jovial voice boomed across the room. "today, my dear students, we will be brewing a calming draught. quite useful for, uh, stressful situations." he winked at the class. "i'm sure none of you feel stressed, though."

you could feel the irony of the assignment, given how much stress you were actually under without anyone really knowing. you could probably use a calming draught or two just to get through the day.

slughorn's face was surrounded with enthusiasm as he demonstrated the first few steps, his eyes darting over the class with interest. you gathered the ingredients you needed and carefully measured out the valerian root, hellebore syrup and the fluxweed oil.

"so, you think slughorn's going to invite you to one of his little parties?" alicia asked as she ground some peppermint into powder.

you shrugged, keeping your focus on your cauldron as you stirred it clockwise. "not very likely. i don't really know what those parties are even about," you lied. you went to one meeting with hermione, and decided to never go again. simply a waste of time.

alicia raised an eyebrow, "well, slughorn kinda 'collects' talented students. you're smart, plus you're new and kind. so, i'd say you're prime slug club material."

you smiled at her, "we'll see," you said quietly. "plus, i think riddle is in slug club," alicia whispered.

you almost spilled the peppermint that you were trying to add into your potion. "sorry, what?" you gaped at her. she scoffed at you and smiled, "don't act dumb, i always see you looking at him."

your potion turned to a soft blue - that was a good sign. "what??? no i don't.." you mumbled and glanced over at alicia's cauldron, which was bubbling a little too vigorously.

"uh, alicia... are you sure you didn't add to much oil?" you asked her, eyeing the bubbles. "you're not getting out of this conversation, y/n," alicia said while she kept adding oil.

"no, no, i'm serious, look at those bubbles."

"oh, oops," alicia gasped, and quickly turned down the heat under her cauldron. "well, at least it's not melting this time."

you laughed softly, helping her adjust the potion before it boiled over. potions was always a mix of stress and humor with alicia. seems like you're not as slick as you thought you were.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡transfiguration class:

in dumbledore's class there was a different energy in the air. the room was spacious and bright, high arched windows were letting beams of sunlight in that illuminated against the desks. dumbledore was standing at the front. "today," dumbledore began, "we will attempt one of the more advanced transfigurations. turning inanimate objects into animals. quite the leap from last week's matchsticks to needles, wouldn't you say?"

maeve leaned over to you, whispering, "what if we give a four-legged animal six legs by mistake?"

you snickered quietly.

dumbledore waved his wand, and a stack of stones appeared on each of the student's desks. "your task today is to transform this stone into small creatures to your choosing. a mouse, perhaps, or a bird. be gentle, and focus."

you pointed your wand at the stone, visualizing a small bird. with clear focus, you flicked your wand, saying the incantation softly.

to your surprise, the stone started shifting, wings sprouting from its sides as it transformed into a tiny sparrow. it fluttered its wings confused before hopping onto your desk.

"well, aren't you just the star pupil," maeve teased with a grin. she was still poking at her half-transformed stone, which looked more like a stone with some fur on it.

from the front of the class, dumbledore's eyes met yours briefly, and he gave a small approving nod. you continued helping maeve, when you caught a glimpse of tom riddle a few rows ahead. his magic was perfect - obviously. the stone in from of him had turned into a sleek, black raven that perched on his desk with eerie calm.

you sighed, forcing yourself to focus more on maeve and her furry rock. there would be plenty of time to think about tom later, but the time was ticking and you knew it.

shadow, the cat that you'd taken in, padded silently beside you as you made your way to the library. you smiled down at him, shadow had proven to be nothing more than a sweet, lovely companion. the cat had followed you everywhere except for classes.

"you like books, don't you?" you murmured to the cat as you entered the library, earning a few curious glances from other students. shadow flicked his tail and trotted ahead of you, his sleek form disappearing between two towering bookshelves.

the library was quiet and warm, even after dinner. the air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. you loved it in the library, it felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still.

wandering through the shelves you scanned the spines of he books you passed. every so often, you'd glance behind you to make sure shadow was still with you. reaching a shelf tucked in a quiet corner of the library, you found a book you'd been looking for - the founder's legacy: a history of hogwarts. it was a book you needed for your muggle studies.

you pulled it down and tucked in under your arm, turning to leave the aisle - but when you did, you noticed shadow was gone. "shadow?" you called softly, careful not to disturb the other students. the silence of the library seemed to grow louder, your eyes searching for the black fur you had grown accustomed to.

frowning, you stepped out of the aisle, looking around for any sign of the cat. only a few students were scattered around the tables., their heads buried in their studies. then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him.

at one of the far tables, seated in his usual spot near the back of the library, was tom riddle.

with shadow.

your breath caught in your throat. the sleek black cat had made himself comfortable on the edge of tom's open book, his paws kneading the pages as he purred contentedly. tom didn't seem bothered by the interruption. in fact, he was watching the cat with an odd expression - almost as if he was amused, though his features remained calm and composed as always.

for a second, you just stood there, contemplating all your life's choices. seeing shadow so comfortable made your heart race. tom riddle, the person you were meant to change, was casually petting the cat you had taken in and it made your situation feel even more surreal.

but only you couldn't keep standing there forever, staring at tom riddle.

so, you summoned up your courage, and slowly walked over to the table, forcing yourself to remain calm even though you could feel your chest preparing for a panic attack.

"looking for this?" his voice was soft but cold as he gestured to the cat with a slight raise of his hand. shadow meowed happily and stretched out his paws, pushing against tom's book as if he had claimed it for himself.

hearing tom's voice changed something in you, a warm feeling spread through you.

"yes," you said, your voice steady - trying to ignore all the feelings you were feeling at once. "i didn't realize he'd wandered off."

tom's eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying you with the same unsettling intensity you'd noticed in class. then he looked back at the cat, one hand absently touching behind shadow's eaer. the cat purred louder, pressing into the touch as though he had always belonged there.

"he seems to like me," tom observed. you had to hold back a scoff, so you forced a smile. "he's a friendly one."

"i can see."

you weren't sure how to respond to that. you cleared your throat and stepped forward, reaching for shadow. "well, i should get him out of your way, he's probably disturbing your reading. or studying, or whatever..."

tom didn't move at first, and for a brief second you thought he might not let you take back your cat. but the, he pulled his hand back. shadow, oblivious to the tension, stretched lazily before hopping off the table and rubbing against your leg.

you cradled shadow in your arms as you tried to steady your nerves.

you felt tom's gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his book, his expression unreadable. "be careful," he said, his voice low. "not everything that follows you is harmless."

you blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. was that a warning? or something more? before you could reply, tom had already turned the page of his book, his focus shifting away from you as though the conversation had never happened.

a chill ran down your spine as you hugged shadow closer. your heart was pounding in your chest and you turned around.

tom's cryptic words echoed in your thoughts. you were halfway to the library's entrance when you spotted lucas striding toward you, hands tucked in his pockets, that ever-present grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. he seemed completely at ease, as though the world was just a big joke waiting to be told.

"there you are!" he called out in a low voice, somewhat mindful of the library's strit silence policy. he walked right up to you, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face before flicking over to the spot where tom was sitting. "i saw you ever there, chatting with riddle."

"yeah.. shadow wandered over to him," you smiled slightly, still not fully calmed down, but lucas' presence helped a bit.

lucas smiled, "look, i'm just gonna say it: i've seen you stare at him with times, and you look like you've seen a ghost. whatever he's said to you-"

"he said something about not everything that follows you is harmless," you interrupted him, needing to get it off your chest.

"okay, stop. that's freakishly creepy," lucas gaped, stealing a glance at tom. "just.. try to ignore him. riddle's either got everyone thinking he's the hottest thing to walk these halls, or they think he's bloody weird."

your curiosity piqued, "and what do you think?"

lucas paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. his grin returned, "both."

you chuckled at his bluntness, "both?"

you walked out of the library, your book long forgotten on the table you were supposed to be studying at. "yeah, he's good looking. i mean, objectively speaking," lucas said. "but there's something about him that's off. like, he's too good at... well, everything. it's unnatural, people are drawn to him, but they're also.. i don't know, scared of him. you know? even if they don't want to admit it."

you nodded, thinking back how tom had looked at you - the way his eyes seemed to see right through you. there was definitely something unnerving about him. "he's strange. almost like he's always one step ahead of everyone."

"exactly," lucas agreed. "it's like he's playing a game no one else knows the rules to. trust me, best to keep your distance."

"i wasn't planning on making friends with him," you said, shifting shadow in your arms. the cat blinked lazily up at you.

"good, i've got enough trouble without having to rescue you from the dark and mysterious Tom Riddle," lucas replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

you let out a laugh, "thanks, lucas. i'll be sure to tell you first if i fet in over my head."

lucas grinned, "i'll be there, wand at the ready."

the two of you started to head toward the common room together, the tension that had been knotted in your chest since your encounter with tom slowly began to ease. lucas had a way of making things feel lighter, like no matter how complicated the situation got, he’d find a way to make it less scary.

“anyway,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked, “enough about riddle. did you get what you came for? or are we heading back in for round two of ‘tom the cat whisperer’?”

you smirked, shaking your head. “no more rounds with him for today, thanks. i think i’ve had my fill of mysterious brooding for the time being. but i do think i might've left my book in there."

lucas laughed again, his voice carrying through the halls. “we'll get it first think tomorrow. and if you do like him, just don’t go falling for that whole dark-and-mysterious thing. i won't judge you.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “please. you know i prefer my friends a little less brooding and a little more… fun.”

“see? that’s the right attitude.” he gave you a wink, his smile warm and genuine. “stick with me. i’m way more fun than some dark wizard-in-training.”

you couldn't help but smile back. as strange and intense as things had become, lucas was a constant source of light. maybe, just maybe, he’d help keep you grounded as you navigated the dangerous path ahead.

a/n: posted a bit earlier, but umm, i was thinking of naming the cat crookshanks first - so she has a reminder of hermione, harry and ron. but idk :( alsooooo, i'll probably update on sunday for this serie (loads of homework)

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[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[miley1442111]

clingy- a.hotchner

-----------------------

-----------------------

summary: aaron acts quite differently with his wife around, which causes eyebrowns to raise and feelings to start getting hurt.

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mildly suggestive, negative self-talk

-----------------------

You rushed around the corner, only to be met with your brick wall of a husband, Aaron Hotchner. 

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he smiled, his hands circling your waist and holding you to him. 

“Aaron I need to-” you huffed but he cut you off with a quick kiss. 

“You don’t need to do anything,” his hands ventured lower, until he was fully squeezing your ass. 

“Your team will be here any minute,” you sighed. The team had never met you, one of Aaron’s non-negotiables when you two got married, but nothing a year of married bliss and a lot of bribing him with sex couldn’t fix. 

“And everything is ready,” he smiled. “Stop worrying so much.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, well that’s helpful, thank you so much Sherlock Holmes,” you responded sarcastically and Aaron’s smile turned into a full-on smirk. 

“I love you too.”

You wriggled out of his arms with great effort, and a lot of elbowing him, then it was back to your frantic cooking and cleaning. 

-----------------------

The team was in shock. They knew that newly-wed SSA Aaron Hotchner was a lot more laid back then before, but when he was with you? All bets were off. His hands stayed firmly on you at all times,  much like his attention. You were clearly used to it, but to the team, your frequent flirty banter was bizarre. How could Aaron Hotchner be this… relaxed?

-----------------------

You noticed the weird look halfway through the dinner, and kicked Aaron under the table as a way to ask him if he would tune it down. He obliged, albeit confused, and kept his hands to himself for the rest of the night, much to his own dismay. 

Throughout the night, everytime someone made a look or whispered to each other, a sense of dread grew in your stomach. By the end of the night, it got so bad that you just left the room altogether and did the dishes instead. You had a dishwasher, there was no point in hand washing the dishes, but you had to get away from their prying eyes. 

They think you’re weird. They hate that you and Aaron are together. They think he can do so much better. 

Your thoughts were cut off by a hand on the small of your back. 

“Are you alright?” Aaron asked, pressing a kiss to your temple. Usually, his touch would ground you, but tonight it felt like a fire on your skin, one you wanted to put out. You quickly stepped out of his grasp and nodded. 

“Yeah, fine, just tired.”

“Well, people are heading out now, they wanted to thank you.”

“Sounds good,” you mustered up a half-assed smile and followed behind him as the team slowly filtered out of your house in a flurry of ‘thank yous’, ‘see you soons’ and ‘it was delicious’. 

-----------------------

You spent the rest of the night slightly avoiding Aaron’s touch. When you both sat down to watch a film, you decided it would be the best time to paint your nails, meaning Aaron should obviously sit on the opposite side of the couch, right? He did so without question, but not without a quizzical look. Next it was the bathroom, you sat on the closed toilet, brushing your teeth as Aaron stood in front of the mirror, his eye trained on you. 

Now Aaron was getting worried. Had he done something to annoy you? But then you’d surely talk to him, right? You’d never been one to not communicate, so he was left feeling completely bewildered by the predicament. 

-----------------------

In bed, he tried to wrap his arms around you, but you brushed him off, saying you were too warm.

“Did I do something?” He asked, turning back on his bedside lamp. 

“No,” you answered, your back still to him.

“Then why won’t you let me touch you?” he asked, rather blatantly. 

You rolled around to look at him, and immediately regretted it. This was so silly. You were getting upset about what a bunch of strangers (to you at least) thought about you and Aaron’s relationship. Fuck them. You started to laugh, embarrassment kicking in as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. He held you there, chuckling softly as he enjoyed the closeness of you after not being close for the past few hours. One thing you hadn’t expected from Aaron is that he was clingy. 

“It’s so dumb,” you giggled. “So you can’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” he smiled and you mustered up your best stern look. “I promise!”

“I was overthinking about what your team thinks of how much we touch each other,” you admitted. Aaron burst out laughing. You playfully hit him on the arm, but started laughing with him.

“That is dumb,” he chuckled.

“Hey!” You scolded, hitting him on the arm again. “That’s-”

“Do you want to know what they said when you were out of the room?” He offered and your interest was piqued. He pulled your hips and sat you on his lap, straddling him as he began to speak again. 

“They said that you were the nicest,” KISS. “Most lovely,”KISS.  “Most beautiful,”KISS. “Woman on the planet,” KISS. “And they could see how happy you make me.”

Your heart swelled. “So… they liked me then?”

Aaron laughed again. “They liked you a lot. Just like I do.”

-----------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[blitzyn]

stop moving

re4r leon s. kennedy x m!reader

request: none

synopsis: After finding yourself stuck in a closet with Leon, you end up squirming just a little too much.

a/n -> i have fallen victim to the leon lover rabbit hole. ALSO. I FUCKING FRACTURED MY FINGER??? guys i almost cried when i had to write the word balls. </3 but thank you all for 1k followers! tbh i only started this acc because i liked the font when i wrote something in my drafts lmao. but still! it means a lot to me and im happy to have gotten this far!

wc -> 2.5k

cw -> thigh fucking, hiding in a closet, spit as lube, handjob (r receiving), pet names (baby x2, sweetheart x1), he's kinda possessive tbh, not beta read

This was supposed to be relatively simple: get in, figure out where the president's daughter was, save her, then get out. Sure, you've seen your fair share of weird shit — especially after the outbreak in Raccoon City, but finding out that there was a whole religion dedicated to spreading a plague for the sake of taking over the world definitely takes the cake. For now, at least.

But finding yourself cramped in a closet with Leon, surrounded by a horde of hostile cultists, also wasn't something you expected to happen throughout the entire mission.

"Stop moving so much," Leon quietly muttered from behind you just as you shifted.

"I'm not," you huffed, a bit annoyed that you had to hide in this stuffy closet, even if you knew that you'd probably be dead by now if it weren't for your partner's quick thinking. Against his words, you adjusted yourself again, trying to find a decently comfortable position. Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips and the warmth of his chest pressed to your back as he pulled you flush against him.

"I said, stop moving," he repeated, whispering in your ear. You held back a shudder at the feeling of his breath ghosting over the shell of it, stilling completely in surprise. Just then, thunderous footsteps could be heard outside the closet; slowly, listening for any sound that might reveal where the two of you hid.

You tensed and instinctively backed up to further yourself from the perpetrator, even if there wasn't much room to move to begin with. You could faintly hear Leon grunt from behind you, but you were in no position to apologize at the moment. Your eyes were glued to a crack in the old, wooden door, watching as the light shifted when the person passed by.

You waited with bated breath, hoping that it wouldn't come near. But, like some cliche horror movie, you could see the light at the bottom of the door disappear, meaning it was far too close for comfort. With every second the person stood there, the tighter Leon's hold on your hips became. The two of you went so silent your ears rang, and you were briefly afraid that it'd hear the sound of your racing heartbeat.

But after what felt like an eternity, its heavy footsteps started up again and away from the closet. You heaved a sigh of relief when the front door slammed shut, rendering the building empty once more.

"Fucking hell, sorry," you mumbled, trying to shuffle forward and give Leon his space when you realized that he hadn't let go of you yet. "You okay?"

Using the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the door, you lifted your arms a bit and curiously peered at his hands. But that's when you noticed the black lines covering his arms. Upon closer inspection, you quickly realized that they were his veins.

"Christ, Leon, what—"

"Be quiet. Just—just for a second."

You found it hard to tear your eyes away from his arms, waiting in silence. You focused on the sound of his labored breaths, biting your tongue to keep yourself from questioning him even further. Your mind couldn't help the invasion of 'What happened?' and 'What is that?' that threatened to spill from your lips. How did you not notice this earlier?!

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt him rest his forehead on your shoulder, muttering and grunting under his breath. And that's when you felt it — the reason why he was so reluctant to move just yet: he was hard.

"Oh." You couldn't help it, even if he had already told you to shut your mouth twice already. The silence from then on was painfully awkward as the two of you tried to figure out what to say. With a deep breath, you miraculously found the courage to speak up.

"Do you... Can I help you?" You offered, remaining still to keep yourself from accidentally pressing yourself up against him again. It was silent while you waited for his reply, embarrassment wriggling its way through your chest the longer the two of you kept quiet.

"I mean, you don't have to accept, you can just ignore me—" you began to ramble on, mortified that you even asked the question. "I just thought, cause, like, it'll be hard for you to—shit, I didn't mean it like that—"

"[Name]," Leon interrupted you, finding your instant silence charming in its own way. You could hear him take a deep breath in just as his hands slid further up to firmly caress your waist and abdomen. Electricity shot down your spine and pooled in your gut when he tugged you closer to him, grinding himself against your ass. "You can."

He reached for your hand and brought it behind you, placing it directly onto his cock. You gave it a tentative squeeze, savoring the quiet grunt that came from him, feeling your confidence grow by the second. You heard the gentle jingling of his belt as he undid it just enough for you to dip your hand underneath the waistband of his pants and boxers.

"Not wasting a second, huh?" Amusement and lust were laced in his voice as he spoke, a quiet moan spilling from his lips soon after.

He was hot and thick in your hand, throbbing rhythmically. You swiped a finger over the tip that beaded precum, savoring the shudder that came from his body. His hips trusted up into your fist, seeking more, and you were more than happy to oblige.

With a steady pace, you moved your hand up and down, tracing the prominent veins. You felt your own cock twitch at the sound of Leon's breathy groans and sighs, but you ignored it in favor of getting him off.

"Fuuckk," he drawled out, leaning forward to press his lips on the side of your neck. "You're good at this. Makes me think you've done this typa thing before."

"No," you responded, gently rubbing the spot on the underside of the tip. "You're the only one."

"I get the special treatment?" He muttered teasingly, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be my lucky day."

He could feel his body buzzing with adrenaline as he peppered open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck, untucking your shirt to slide a hand up your torso to pinch and toy with a nipple. His free hand traveled lower, slipping his cold fingertips underneath the waistband of your pants, but refused to go further than that.

You could feel his lips curl in a subtle smirk, but even as you realized he was teasing you, testing your patience, you had no intention to retaliate. Christ. The hold this man had on you. It was downright pathetic.

"God," he started, pressing his palm flat on your chest to bring you closer to him—eager for more of your touch. He let his teeth gently scrape against your skin, threatening to bite—to mark you, but he forced himself not to. He couldn't. Not right now. "I want to fuck you so bad."

His words were breathless, borderline desperate, as they left his lips. He couldn't help but thrust his hips up into your fist, pushing and pushing until your hand was flush against your ass, keeping you from jerking him off as he rutted against your hand.

"We can't, Leon," you muttered, disappointment lacing your voice. As much as you'd love to have him inside you, fucking you deep, you knew you couldn't. Not when the Ganados were still outside, at least. "Just let me finish you off."

Leon let out a low growl, knowing that you were right. There were a lot of things the two of you couldn't do inside the confined space of the closet, forcing him to conjure up ideas of what he wanted to do when all of this was over.

But for now, he settled on the second best option: your thighs.

"I know," he murmured, breathing in deeply as he pulled your hand away from his throbbing cock. "Then let me fuck your thighs. I'll be quick, I promise."

You mulled over his words, unsure if it would be a good idea.

"Please, baby," he pleaded, his voice heavy with lust. "Just this once. Then, when we find Ashley and get the hell outta this place, I'll make sure to fuck you properly. Nice 'n hard 'n deep. Wouldn't you like that?"

Fuck it.

"Mhm, yeah, go ahead." You relented, knees weakening at the thought of having his thick cock inside you, stretching and filling you up perfectly.

"Atta boy," he buried his thumbs underneath your pants and boxers, pulling them down to let them drop to your ankles. "Knew you'd come around."

He groaned at the sight of your bare thighs and drooling cock, running his hands along the curve of your ass to lean back and spread it, focusing his gaze on your asshole. "Fuck," he hissed. "Can't wait to feel your tight little hole around me later. Gonna fill you up with my cum, make you mine."

Arousal sank in your stomach like a rock as your hole clenched around nothing. Whatever's coursing through his veins made him more impulsive, more desperate, but with the fog that clouded your thoughts, you hardly found it in you to mind.

He spat on his cock and moved a hand away from your body to briefly jerk himself off and smear the saliva around.

"Open up, baby," he instructed as soon as he was done, raising his hand to caress your hip. "Spread your legs a little."

Like a trained puppy, you obeyed, widening your thighs just enough to let him guide his hard cock in between them. Your breath hitched at the sight of the head peeking out, squeezing your legs around him just a bit tighter.

"Jesus fuck, [Name]," he groaned, leaning forward to press his chest against your back. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. Through the hazy mess that was in your mind, you found comfort in the warmth and firmness of them as you placed your hands on his forearms for some sort of stability. "That's it. Squeeze me just like that."

You could feel every twitch and throb, and you were sure he could feel yours, too. It felt like your senses were on overdrive as you listened to your labored breaths, his pleased sighs and grunts, and the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your thighs. He set a leisurely pace, rocking his hips back and forth.

"Shit..." He hissed, speeding up his thrusts as his dick rubbed against your balls, smearing his makeshift lube across your skin.

His hips met yours with quiet slaps, making sure to keep the noise level at a minimum despite the overwhelming urge to just bury himself inside you right then and there. He mouthed at the nape of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, gently pressing his teeth down hard enough to send sparks down your spine.

His fingertips pressed into your sides so firmly it hurt, but it only served to mix in with the desire that burned brightly in your belly. He fucked your thighs with a sense of urgency, as if trying to satiate a hunger deep within his subconscious—not that you minded.

He grunted and groaned with every thrust, tightening his arms around your waist to tug you back to him whenever your hips jolted forward. It was intoxicating; the way he so effortlessly turned your body into a sensitive mess left you wanting more.

But as soon as a strong hand wrapped around your aching cock, you nearly came on the spot. One of your hands left Leon's forearm to slap it over your mouth as you tried to keep yourself from moaning too loud.

He breathily chuckled beside your ear. "Is this what you wanted?" He rhetorically questioned, swiping a finger over the leaking head so perfectly it left your skin tingling. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Ohh, fuck," you hissed. It was embarrassing how you so eagerly responded to his touch. "Yeah, th-that's it...!"

Your eyes fluttered shut, focusing on the feeling of his slick cock moving in and out from between your thighs. Your lips parted from behind your hand to let out quiet pants and moans, digging your nails into his forearm the closer you got to your orgasm.

"Oh god, Leon—!" You moaned, pressing yourself further against his back. You could feel your legs faltering, but he didn't seem to mind having you rely on him to stand up.

"I know, baby, I know," he muttered, his voice tight and strained as his thrusts gradually grew sloppy and weak. "Me too."

His cock pulsed and twitched, and he can't help himself from clamping his teeth over the side of your neck this time. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood, but it left a noticeable bite mark that dully ached.

"Come on, baby, cum for me," he instructed, and you had no choice but to comply.

With a muffled moan, you arched your back and finally came as ropes of your semen coated the dusty wooden floor and Leon's fingers. He stroked you until he was sure that you were spent before letting go to chase after his own release.

"Shit," he cursed, breathing heavily. "I'm gonna cum so... so fucking hard...!"

With a strained groan, his hips jerked erratically as he came, holding you tight enough to leave bruises. You gently rub your thighs together, helping him ride out his high. It wasn't until a few moments later did he finally stop, breathing hard against your neck as he calmed down. But that's also when the clarity kicked in.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, moving his head from you. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened—I just—" he apologized, sighing in defeat a moment later.

"It's fine," you replied, patting his arm. You had to suppress a shudder when he pulled away from your thighs. The cum that ended up on the insides of them quickly cooled, leaving an uncomfortable sensation on your skin. You were just gonna have to suck it up.

"Let's just get outta here, already." You shuffled forward a bit to tug your pants back up your legs while Leon composed himself.

"Yeah," he said, pressing an arm against the dusty, wooden door. Through the dim light, you could see that his veins were no longer visible again, but that thought was going to have to hold off until later. "You ready?"

"Yup." You nodded after briefly making sure you still had everything in place.

Without further thought about what happened just a few seconds ago, Leon pushed the door open and quickly left the closet as you trailed close behind. Now, it was back to work.

[prentissluvr]

take my breath away — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst, hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : features dean x reader (platonic), near death experience, suffocation, other canon violence and death, injuries, blood mention, swearing, so much pining, case fic, stereotypical witch, (not) unrequited love, petty fights/arguments, petty sam, kissing, crying, guilt, reader vaguely implied to be shorter than sam, pet names, food mentions, (baby, honey - from sam, darlin'/kiddo from dean), no use of y/n, mentions of end of season 2-4 spoilers, poorly edited, lmk if i missed something! ➖⟢ wc : 13.7K summary : because of an unexpected witch's curse, it's almost too late for you and sam to confess your feelings to each other.

you see sam when it rains. even if he’s sitting right in front of you, you’ll look out the car window and at the rivulets of water rushing down the glass, distorting the image of an empty highway and summer-time trees at dusk, and you’ll see him at seventeen with rain in his hair and running down his cheeks. you’ll think of that smile he gave you as he took your hand and how that look he had in his eyes haunts you worse than any ghost you’ve seen, because you think it could’ve been love. sometimes, you’ll still see glimpses of that sam, but he can be rare. so, you go as far to wonder if maybe he still looks at you like that when your gaze is turned away. 

once, when the windows were down and he was sitting in the back with you for a change, the spring air was nice and clean as it filtered into the sometimes stuffy car, and you felt his multicolor gaze watching you. the look on his face changed when you locked eyes, but for an imagined moment, it seemed that you—your eyes closed against the wind and a light smile on your face that, for once, wasn’t grim—were his everything.

you press your temple to the cold glass of the window, hoping it’ll sober you up a little from your love-drunk state. it’s so goddamn stupid that you’re even thinking about him like this right now, because he’s still sort of mad at you for something rash you did during your last hunt. only you don’t think it was stupid, so you’re half pissed that he won’t let it go. staring at the back of his head and the pretty curled ends of his hair, you sigh quietly. even his shoulders rising up past the seat are handsome. you miss him, and he’s close enough to reach out and touch.

dean’s voice breaks your reverie, and you have to draw in a deep breath. without you even noticing, thinking about sam so hard makes you breathless, almost every time.

“so, why don’t you give us the full rundown, sammy? ‘fore either of you decide to conk out on me,” dean suggests. that means he’s bored, because neither of you will fall asleep for at least another hour or two, and you’ll probably take your turn driving for a few soon.

“sure,” sam agrees, and you hear the shuffle of papers as he digs out a newspaper article and some notes. “three people in the last three weeks all died from suffocation, but with no apparent cause. they just,” sam’s shoulders move a little as he motions vaguely with his hands, “stopped breathing.”

“sounds witchy to me,” dean says, very predictably. you think you could’ve said those exact words at the exact same time if you wanted to tease him about it.

“yeah. what’s weird is that the vics were reported feeling out of breath up to 16 hours before they actually died. says it looks like they slowly died from oxygen deprivation,” sam adds.

“huh. so not hex bags, but another sort of spell?” you wonder aloud, easily talking about the case despite the remainders of tension between you and sam. that’s just how it is, with all of you. even when you’re mad, you still work the case.

“most likely,” sam agrees, “the vics went about their days pretty much normally until they died, so they were in different places as they were dying. seems like a hex bag wouldn’t work unless it was on them the whole time.” you nod, and though he’s not turned around to look at you, you’re sure he knows anyway.

“alright, well. looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” dean states, “we’ll be in town in the morning, so we’ll rest up real quick then head to the police station. you two can do your interviewing magic with the vic’s families and hopefully we’ll know more by then.”

this was easily predicted as well. for as long as you’ve been able to pass as an fbi agent, he’s mostly left interviewing the families to you and sam since the two of you tend to be more socially appropriate, and thus, more able to get information without raising alarms. though, the questions you ask never cease to be weird and confusing to the world’s oblivious civilians. of course, dean makes exceptions for pretty girls who he can flirt his way into telling him just about anything. this time, you wish dean would make an exception because it kills you that you and sam aren’t getting along perfectly right now. you know that you’ll work it out soon, probably within the week, but you still hate it.

through the impala’s windows, you watch the sky turn dark and the moon come out. you drive, then fall asleep to the rumble of the engine for a few hours, and wake to see the sky turn light again. keeping it all to yourself, you revel in the sunrise and the way it turns the sky bright and the clouds cotton candy pink around the edges. 

you sink into the sight of sam sleeping in front of you, the early morning light kissing his features and shining through his mousy brown hair. if you lean a little to the left, you can soak up the image of his softly closed eyes, the mole by his nose, and the relaxed curve of his lips. you smile to yourself at the way his hair is all messed up on the side of his head that’s resting against the window until you catch dean’s gaze on you through the rearview mirror. you tear your gaze from both brothers and latch it to the moving countryside out the window. for a while now, you’ve figured there’s no way dean doesn’t see that you’re in love with his brother, but despite such, he doesn’t say much outside of lightheartedly teasing for the both of you. he’s the only one who knows that sam looks at you just like that when you’re the one who’s asleep. he’s the one who sees sam turn, trying to be subtle, just to look at the way the moonlight kisses your lips, wishing it was him.

it’s eight in the morning when you pull up to the first motel you see. you wished sam hadn’t woken up on his own half an hour ago. that way, you could’ve put your hand on his shoulder, shaken him all soft and gentle like you do just for him, and mumbled, “wake up, sammy. we’re here.” then he’d stir, still sweet-looking from sleep and give you a little smile if he’d managed to dream without nightmares before remembering he’s supposed to still be upset with you.

instead, he’s fully awake when he climbs out of the car and pops your door open like he does every time you can’t beat him to it. he doesn’t talk about that habit, because he knows you can take care of it yourself. but if it’s so easy for him to do it as you grab your bag, then he thinks there’s no harm. besides, you’ve never told him off for it, so he does that and just about any other little thing he can get away with for you. and much to your chagrin, he still does it all when he’s pissed at you. he’s too good like that, even if you think he should just get over what happened a few days ago.

the three of you are just about wordless as you check in and pile into the room, all tired and without anything of importance to say. when you catch sight of the couch in the room, you sigh in relief. it would’ve been sam’s turn to share the bed, and you’re not sure you could do that this time around. sometimes it’s hard to breathe when he’s right there, so close after you’ve spent literal hours in the car just plain old pining over him. so, you find an extra sheet in the closet and steal a pillow from dean’s bed, all but collapsing onto the couch with a morning-time “goodnight.”

you don’t care that your feet hang over the edge unless you curl up or mind the way the springs dig into the flesh of your side, all you want is to welcome quick sleep. you’re lucky, and drift off moments later. you barely have time to think about how glad you are that you won’t have one of your nights where you lay awake, staring at the ceiling as you wonder why you would fall in love with someone you can’t have. him and dean are all you have, and no matter how your heart aches to pull sam close, you’d never do anything to jeopordize what you have, here and now. he’s your best friend, that’s all you can ask for in this life, maybe even more than you should.

waking as you normally do to the sounds of sam and dean moving about the motel room, you sit up, a little groggy. you glance at the clock, and you’ve slept for about four hours, just as predicted.

“up ‘n at ‘em,” dean says as he walks past you, giving you a playful clap on the back.

“mhmm,” is all you respond with, swinging your legs off the couch and digging through your bag for your pant suit and toothbrush. dean’s already in his, and sam’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom, still in his tshirt and jeans from yesterday. you don’t even have to say a word for sam to move out of the bathroom as you approach. so he won’t have to wait with a mouth full of tooth-paste and spit for you too long, you change quickly, leaving your clothes on the bathroom floor and opening the door for sam as you begin to brush your own teeth. the two of you maneuver around the cramped space with practiced ease, and when he’s done, he disappears back into the bedroom space without a word. when he’s petty to other people, you think it’s kind of hot. but when he does it to you, it makes you want to ring his neck. 

“asshole,” you mumble to yourself. it’s a classic tango between the two of you; you want him to just get over it, and he wants you to admit that he’s right, or the other way around. and both of you are far too stubborn to be the one to relent first, so you’ll be pissy at each other for a few days until you get bored of it or dean gets too annoyed. all it takes to get past it is you putting your head in his lap after a long day, maybe him resting his head on your shoulder, or the two of you laughing too hard over something together to keep being mad, and maybe just a few mumbled apologies from the both of you. if it’s really big enough for none of those things to work, then you talk about it until things are okay again.

dean drops you off at the first victim’s house, with the promise that the second is close enough to walk to, and the third he’ll join you for once he’s done at the coroner’s office.

sam still won’t talk to you as you wait on the front porch of the house after ringing the doorbell. a young woman opens the door, probably around your own age, and you smile at her before flashing your badge.

“hi. i’m agent green. this is my partner, agent smith. we’re looking for natalie goh?” you greet, comfortable and at ease in your ruse.

“that’s me,” she confirms for you, sounding nice enough. “how can i help you, agents?”

“we would just like to ask a few questions about your late boyfriend, henry,” sam explains, “may we come inside?”

her face falls when he mentions her boyfriend, but she nods her head. “of course, come in.” you follow her to the living room where she motions for you to sit. “let me grab you something to drink,” she offers, disappearing into the next room before you can refuse. “is lemonade okay? my next door neighbor brought me so much when she heard about henry… you know. i can’t possibly drink it all.”

you want to say no, not wanting to make her go through the extra effort, but you accept for both you and sam out of sympathy. she sounds like she needs to keep her hands busy to distract herself. 

she sets the drinks down in front of you, asking as she sits, “what, uhm, what is the fbi’s interest in … in henry?”

“we’re investigating a few odd deaths, like your boyfriend’s, in the area,” sam explains, “now, was there anything unusual the day of or the days leading up to his death?”

“i, um, i don’t– i don’t think so, like what? and, i’m sorry, the police told me he most likely choked on something, how is that strange?” natalie frets. you glance at sam and catch him readjusting his features as a brief look of surprise crosses over his face. it makes sense that that’s what the police told her, but you hadn’t known they’d said so.

“well, natalie, the cause of his death wasn’t entirely clear, and because a few more people have died similarly since, we’re just being extra thorough,” you do your best to placate her before she starts getting too wary of you and sam. “it really could mean nothing, but it’s important for us to cover all of our bases. so, can you tell us if there was anything out of the ordinary? was he acting strange, or did you notice anything unusual around the house, like maybe cold spots or flickering lights?”

she furrows her eyebrows in confusion, “um, no. no, nothing like that. he was just being him, you know, he was such an amazing boyfriend, he made me breakfast that morning even though he said he was tired. i already told this to the police, but he sounded kind of out of breath when we called. that was the last time i talked to him,” her voice begins to tremble, so you reach out a comforting hand and place it atop hers from across the table. “i had to stay late at work, and when i got home, he was … he was gone. i found him in the kitchen.” a tear slips down her cheek, and she moves her hand away from yours to wipe it off. you shift back in your seat and glance at sam, trying to give him the hint to get moving. but, he keeps his gaze trained elsewhere.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him, almost ready to pull the “may i use your bathroom” ruse first. it’s almost always sam who does it, and sure enough, he clears his throat to ask.

“would you mind if i used your restroom?”

“oh, sure,” she says, “there’s one by the pantry, through the kitchen and to the left.”

he stands, thanking her a bit awkwardly before disappearing through the doorway to the kitchen.

once he’s gone, you turn your attention back to natalie. “i know that this can be a difficult question, but is there anyone that comes to mind who might want to hurt henry?” absentmindedly, you take a sip of the lemonade after speaking. it’s sweet, but not too sugary. you discover that it’s just about perfect, and you can’t hold back from continually taking a few sips here and there to fight back the heat of the afternoon.

“oh, goodness, no,” she sounds horrified by that prospect, “henry was just the kindest. the best boyfriend i could ask for,” she reiterates. “you think that someone– that someone…?”

“no, no,” you lie, “there would be signs if someone else hurt him, but like i said, we just need to be completely thorough. i’m sorry to even have to ask. now, if you’re okay with it, could you tell me more about henry?”

“yes, yeah, i can do that,” she sighs in relief. it’s clear she wants to talk about him, and probably how much she misses him. you do your best to pay close attention and keep her focused on you and your questions as sam takes forever “in the bathroom.” nothing she says is very useful, it’s all about how loving and kind and just about perfect he was to her. at first, you’re able to listen without a qualm, but the more she rambles about how much she loved him, and maybe even more so how much he loved her, your mind inevitably wanders to sam. sam and your bothersome, bottomless pit of unrequited love.

you kindly cut natalie off and stand when you hear sam’s footsteps approach. “it sounds like henry was a wonderful person. i’m so sorry for your loss.” despite knowing those words don’t mean or do much, you still fill them with as much sincerity as you can. sam is at your side again. “we really appreciate you taking the time to talk to us. we’ll get out of your hair now.”

she shows you to the front door out of courtesy, and you give her one last thank you and kind smile before turning your back and heading to the sidewalk, sam just ahead of you. pushing off the ground a little harder for a few steps, you catch up to him and his long strides, unable to resist the urge to let your gaze wander to his face.

“anything?” you ask, hoping he’ll look at you too.

“nope,” he shakes his head, “no emf, no hexbags, nothing out of the ordinary.” pursing your lips, you let your gaze fall to the sidewalk ahead of you when he doesn’t make eye-contact. “anything on your end?”

“not really. she just rambled about how in love they were. said there was nothing strange about the day, or him, and that he had no enemies. she made him sound like a complete angel.” without you realizing, your lip curls a little in jealousy.

sam just huffs in response, likely bothered by the lack of information. “let’s hope we can find something about the other two.”

you repeat the ruse at the next two homes, and sam’s hopes are dashed, because by the time you, sam, and dean are back at the motel room, just about the only thing of value you bring back is a paper bag of takeout.

spread out in the room, with your respective assortments of food, notes, and computers, you share all the details you can think of to hopefully find a pattern. dean’s on his bed, sam on the couch, and you at the dingy table. the biggest discovery is on dean’s part. according to the coroner, each of the victim’s hearts had inexplicably shrunken and shriveled up. this detail was kept out of the public eye because of how strange it was; it happened after each victim died, as it very clearly did not contribute to the cause of death. that, and the coroner is absolutely stumped by how such a thing could possibly happen.

dean asks if the first two interviews were as fruitless as the last, and you sigh as you explain just how unhelpful they’d been.

“the only common threads are that they were young adults, all in a relationship, and all sounded to be just about the perfect partner,” you report. “i mean, maybe the witch is targeting people in loving relationships? jealousy? or maybe they have some sort of secret we couldn’t dig up just by interviewing. the people we talked to were obviously biased. the first victim’s girlfriend wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing he was, the second’s sister told us she was the sweetest girlfriend out there, and you heard how the third’s husband described them.”

“really?” dean asks. “i mean, yeah, i heard the last guy, but i ran into the first vic’s girlfriend’s sister at the station. she was doing something for her sister there, and she did not seem too impressed with the guy when i asked about him.”

you raise your eyebrows, about to speak again when sam beats you to it.

“so maybe we are looking for secrets. did she say what she wasn’t impressed with?” sam says just about the exact thing you were about to.

dean shrugs. “jus’ said he was sort of a lazy boyfriend. didn’t take good enough care of her or show his love all that much.”

“maybe he was cheating?” you suggest.

“maybe,” dean repeats. “how’s this? you can dig into records and see if you can find any dirt on the vics. sam, you can look for a spell that might’ve caused this, and i’ll scout out a few local places. the officer i was talking to gave me a few places the vics probably spent time at.”

“sure,” you agree, a teasing edge to your voice, “just don’t get too distracted. we all know by ‘local places’ you mean bars. no sex unless you solve the case, and if you solve the case, no sex because you have to report back to us.”

“so no sex?” he plays along, acting all offended.

“nope!” you confirm, giving a firm shake of your head. 

dean’s already on his way out the door as he chimes, “no promises!”

“seriously!” sam calls after him, “we need info!” he groans and shakes his head when the only response he gets is the shutting of the door. when he doesn’t make a snarky comment about dean to you, you clench your jaw.

“sam.” it takes a lot of willpower to sound bothered by him, rather than say his name all sweet.

“mhmm?” he’s purposely keeping his gaze on his computer and his response short.

you roll your eyes, “c’mon, can’t you just get over it? it’s not like you haven’t done stupider things to get a case done.”

since you insist on arguing about it, he lifts his gaze, looking unimpressed. “doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have done it. you almost got dean hurt.”

“and i already apologized for that!” you say indignantly, annoyed that that’s his argument. he knows full well, better than anyone, that dean can deal with a measly vamp, even if he wasn’t expecting it. “it’s not like dean can’t handle himself!”

“you should have at least run the plan by us,” he says. you roll your eyes again.

“it was a spur of the moment decision. unless you wanted me to shout it out, compromise my position, and let every single vamp in that nest know exactly what i was gonna do?” you retort. sam sighs, in the way that you can tell he knows your argument is better than his. so, you still can’t figure out why he’s still upset about it, outside of his usual stubbornness.

“it could’ve gone so wrong,” is all he can come up with, “and you know that. it was stupid, and you could’ve gotten hurt. or worse.” there it is. his voice changed when he said you could’ve gotten hurt.

it’s your turn to sigh, this time because you finally understand. it makes your heart flutter a little, and it makes you even more annoyed. “sam, i can handle myself. you know that. sure, it was kind of stupid, and not a fully thought out plan, but i had to figure out a way to get us out of there! four vamps were about to find you, so i had to distract them. easiest way was with my blood. one vamp found dean, but he handled that just as easy as he always does. i knew you’d have my back, so i let the other three come after me. and look! we’re all here, alive and kicking! this is such a stupid thing for you to get mad over.”

“it’s stupid for me to want you to be more careful?” he counters.

“sam, we have to take risks in this job, we do it all the time. that’s just how this works, what’s different about this time?” you question.

“just–” he presses his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose as he tries to come up with a reason that’s good enough. a reason that’s not “i worry about you,” because that’ll make you even more angry, make it sounds like he doesn’t think you’re a good enough hunter. and he certainly can’t explain that that’s not it, he worries because the worst possible thing to him is you getting hurt. because then you’d ask why and he wouldn’t be able to tell you the truth.

“can’t we just be done with this?” you ask, and the tone of your voice is one he can’t deny. you’re upset, bothered, and tired of his pettiness. more so, you’re just plain old tired. it takes too much effort to stay upset with one another. he lets your question sit in the air for a moment longer.

“yeah,” he relents, voice quiet now. he’s holding back words, touches, feelings. he wants to tell you, “just please don’t put yourself in danger, it scares me. i get so worried. it makes me want to pull you close and protect you even though i know you don’t need it. that’s why i’m upset.” he wants to get up from the couch and set his computer across from yours, sit across from you, just so you’re a little bit closer. he wants to touch you so bad that it sort of hurts.

instead, he has to live for the relieved breath that huffs out through your nose, so quiet it couldn’t quite be counted as a sigh.

“good,” you say, voice matching his own quietness. there’s still tension hanging between you, but soon enough, it’ll dissipate altogether, and tomorrow, you’ll be back to joking with one another, brushing shoulders, and hiding how in love with each other you are. maybe he can even convince you to share his bed tonight. the couch is horridly uncomfortable.

only after you’re convinced that sam won’t be all pissy to you until the next time you find something silly to be angry about do you begin on your research. it’s just as fruitless as everything else today, and after hours searching and drawing banks, you go back to the interviews, jotting down all the details you can remember in case seeing it on paper helps something new and useful jump out at you.

all you get is a dull ringing in your ear, probably courtesy of some old motel appliance. but the ringing grows louder, and in your tired state, it becomes completely bothersome. you press your hand against your left ear—it’s loudest there—and shut your eyes. it’s been an hour or two since sam has shifted to sit across from you to escape the digging springs of the couch, so the movement catches his attention quickly.

“you alright?” he asks, already with a little pinch of his eyebrows in worry.

“yeah, ‘m fine,” you say, realizing the ringing must be the beginning of a headache, since sam can’t seem to hear it. “just a headache,” you explain.

“want me to get you some advil?” he offers.

“no, no that’s alright, i’ve got it,” you deny, but you don’t get up. your head doesn’t really hurt, and the ringing fades as fast as it appeared. you’re about to sigh in relief, when suddenly, you’re sort of breathless, and you gasp to take in air. the moment passes, and you shake your head to yourself a little. it’s weird until you remember that sam’s looking at you with that little furrow to his brow, sweet and concerned, like the last thing he wants is for you to be in pain, even if it’s just a measly headache. that look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you and only you is certainly enough to take your breath away. it just took you by surprise this time.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, worried by your gasp.

“mhmm,” you hum, trying to keep your tone light and trying not to look too hard into his pretty hazel eyes. “jus’ hurt for a second, but i think the headache’s gone away.”

“okay,” he relents, not fully convinced, but willing to take your word for it and refocus on his computer screen. you turn your own attention back to the papers in front of you, away from his face, so close that it sends your heart into wild palpitations every time your mind wanders from the case and to his presence. in other words, it happens often.

you’re determined to find something, some detail that clicks and leads you to anything important. but after another unfocused hour, your eyelids are heavy, almost as much as your head as you wish to just sink down and fall asleep right there on that little table.

“you should get some sleep,” sam says, no stranger to the way you look when you should quit being stubborn and just go to bed. and normally, you’d resist, but the idea of sleep, of closing your eyes and letting your breath even out, slow down, is far too inviting.

so, you relent, and close your laptop. “yeah,” you say as you shuffle the sheets of paper together and set them on a neat pile on top of your computer.

“take the bed, too,” he insists, “you look exhausted.”

“mm, glad to hear it,” you joke halfheartedly, “but, no, sam, that couch is too small for you. it’s small for me, even.”

“and it’s seriously uncomfortable,” he adds.

“so we’ll share. i’ll leave space for you. you should come to bed soon, too. ‘s not like we should wait up for dean,” you snicker. sam rolls his eyes, but easily agrees with your conclusion. as you settle into the covers of the motel bed, you consider waiting up for him so you can feel the dip of the bed, then the warmth that radiates off him as he lays beside you. you want to feel the brush of his long arms, the heel of his foot or nudge of his toe, sometimes you’re treated with the broad expanse of his back. but sleep claims you before you can even make the attempt.

sam’s big hand on your shoulder brings you back into consciousness, and you breathe in long and hard since it seems like you can’t quite fill your lungs. then your eyes flutter open, and sam’s figure is hovering over yours, his hand lingering, then slipping away as he sees you wake. he doesn’t stand fully upright yet, unsure if he should say something or not.

he keeps his voice low, not wanting to alert dean, who’s changing in the bathroom. “are you feeling fine?”

groggy as you sit up, you peek at the clock. 8:43. you slept through the 8:30 alarm. odd.

“uh, yeah, i’m fine,” you answer, voice gravelly from the morning’s first use, “why?”

sam shifts to sit on the bedside opposite you. “nothing just… i don’t know, you were just breathing really light last night. i could barely even tell you were breathing at some points and normally you breathe pretty noticeably while you sleep. and, you know, given this case, i just wanted to check.”

sam notices the way you breathe when you sleep. that’s just about all you can take away from his words. sam pays enough attention to the way you breathe when you sleep to know when your breathing is different. sam thinks about the way that you breathe. maybe that’d be creepy from anyone else, but you think about the way he breathes too. the way it lulls you to sleep when he’s close, the way it catches when he’s surprised, or the way it changes when he’s about to laugh.

then you remember he’s said something you’re supposed to address. “it’s nothing, sam. i feel totally fine, just tired from working back to back cases, is all.” you say this because you’re sure of it; you do feel just fine. and sam makes you breathless all the time, so there's nothing out of the ordinary there.

“are you sure?” he presses, “you slept straight through the alarm, like a rock.”

“i’m sure,” you say.

“okay,” you can immediately tell that he’s not entirely convinced as he says this, “but if anything happens or changes or you feel like you’re out of breath, you promise to tell me or dean?”

“of course.” you may not want to be fussed over, but you certainly don’t want to go out in such a stupid, horrible way. “i promise,” you add, just for his sake. dean’s phone starts ringing, and he appears out of the bathroom.

“either way, let’s get this case done, and quick,” sam insists.

“don’t have to tell me twice,” you agree, throwing off the covers to get ready for the day.

dean’s voice keeps you from lingering by sam’s side. “hey, crazy kids, let’s hurry it up. just got off the phone with the sheriff, there was another death last night.”

“dammit,” you and sam swear in unison. 

on the way to the scene, dean updates you on his findings from last night. he was just as unsuccessful as you in finding major dirt on any of the victims, though he recieved similar testimonials to the sister’s about the first, henry. otherwise, he was able to find the witch’s possible hunting ground in a bar where all three victims have been seen with their partners. sam reports that he’s getting close to finding the right spell after discovering a few similar ones. 

when you reach the victim’s house, sam and dean check in with the police officers, and you immediately head to interview whoever found the victim’s body. he’s obviously distraught, and probably still in shock from losing his boyfriend. you do your best to stay gentle, kind, and understanding as you lead him through the interview, interrupting your questions for the occasional “he sounds like he was a wonderful partner,” or other such comforting phrase as the man, tyler, rambles about how great he was, how guilty he feels, and just about nothing helpful except for adding another data point to the one pattern you have.

“thank you for your help,” you say, giving him a tight lipped smile before standing and drifting over to sam on instinct as you mull over the information you recieved. he’s poking around in the kitchen, subtly searching for anything abnormal and most likely coming up empty as this house follows the unhelpful trend of the rest.

“anything?” he asks once you’re by his side.

you shake your head, “just the madly in love bit. everything was pretty much the same as the other vics as well.” sam sighs like he expected that answer.

“i think we should look more into the first victim,” he suggests, echoing the same thought that you had. “maybe interview natalie again, see if she admits something different about henry if we push it a little.”

“i agree, though i’d say let’s hold off on interviewing her again unless we can’t find the spell soon. even if she admits that he wasn’t as good to her as she said before, i’m not sure how much good that does in comparison to the spell. if you keep looking into that, i’ll check henry’s records more thoroughly. i looked into him less last night since we already had something on him.” you revise the plan a bit, and sam nods in agreement, making that sort of awkward face with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised that he does when someone without the knowledge you have comes in hearing range. you glance behind you to see the figure of a police officer through the kitchen doorway and are fast to quit all talk of spells and witches to avoid sounding insane.

“dean can scout out the bar again to see if this most recent couple frequented there as well,” sam puts the last piece in place for your plan, just as you imagined it. once it seems like there’s nothing left to glean from the house, you grab dean and head out back to the car. the brothers walk a bit ahead of you as sam fills dean in on the plan.

“excuse me! agent,” a voice calls from behind you. the three of you turn, and you wave the two of them away to indicate that you’ll deal with it.

“yes?” you respond as an officer approaches.

“your partner asked for the full coroner’s reports on paper from the first three victims,” she says, holding out a file as she reaches you.

“ah! right. thank you, officer.” you give her a polite smile and take the papers before turning away. sam and dean have made it to the impala, parked a bit away due to the police cars surrounding the house. you jog at a casual pace to catch up, but falter about halfway there as your breaths turn all shuddery and quick. you stop, trying to right yourself and desperate to brush this off, but you just keep gulping in breaths, feeling like you’ve run a mile at top speed without warming up. 

shit. shit, shit, shit, is all you can think. fuck.

as you stare at the car, dean’s already in the front seat and sam is pulling the passenger’s door open, and you will with all your might that neither of them will turn to look for you. you don’t want them to catch you like this. instead, you want to explain it to them, calm and collected and full of breath because your body’s beginning to readjust and you should be fine to walk over in moments and dammit– sam’s twisted around to find you, his hands resting on the top of the car and the door. the second he catches sight of you, just standing there with your chest heaving up and down, he’s launched himself away from the car and towards you. he calls your name, worry flooding his voice. you had tried to recompose yourself the second you saw his head turning, but it was too late, and now he’s jogging your way.

sam is in front of you in moments, his hands on your shoulders and his face fallen in a deep frown.

“you’re not okay, are you?”

“i– i’m–,” you can’t think of what to say, and though your breath is returning to normal, you can’t deny him. “let’s just get in the car. please.” 

his jaw clenches and his eyes flick all over you, from the top of your head to the point of your shoes like he always looks at you when he thinks you might be hurt. he’s taking you in, quick and almost panicked so he can fix it right away. he takes a steadying breath because he’s so ovewrought he can barely think. “fine,” he says, voice carefully hushed. if he doesn’t control it, he might start shouting, panicking even. sam can’t bear to leave you untouched now, so he leaves a hand splayed on your shoulder blade as you finish the short walk to the car. he opens the back door and climbs right in, completely foregoing his spot in the passenger’s seat. you realize he wants to sit in the back with you, and it would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t because you’re probably dying.

jaw clenched, you follow him in, and dean’s already twisted around in his seat, gaze shifting between the two of you to try and read what just happened.

“what was that all about?” he questions, eyebrows raised. you put a hand on sam’s knee to stop him from telling dean.

“the witch got me,” you drop the news without much hesitation, more focused on getting your two cents in before either of them start grilling you with questions and making stupid suggestions to try and fix it, “it’s gotta be someone we met or passed by yesterday. one of the people we interviewed or someone from the diner we had lunch at; these types of spells normally require the victim’s dna. and before either of you do anything stupid or crazy, we’re gonna stick with the same plan. dean, you can drop us at the motel so we can find the spell and reversal, and you find out what you can at the bar. got it?”

dean looks at you like you’re crazy, and you ignore sam’s gaze altogether. 

“got it?” dean repeats back to you, incredulous, “not so much, kid, i’m gonna need you to explain this to me a little better. what do you mean the witch got you? you mean you’re gonna stop breathing in some odd hours that might not be enough time for us to find and gank this witch?”

“yes, dean, that’s what i mean. try to keep up,” you turn a little mean as your frustration takes over in order to compensate for your growing fear. “and i’m not going to die, so quit being so pessimistic. we’ll find the witch, as long as we stay focused on the plan. unless you have a faster way, which i’d be happy to abide by.” neither have a good enough retort to that, so you continue, “can we go now? we might not have that much time.”

with much effort, dean turns back in his seat and starts the engine. his voice is low when he asks, “what do you mean by that?”

“well, i don’t know exactly when this whole thing started!” you answer as he pulls into the street, “sam said my breathing wasn’t totally normal last night. if that means anything, well, i went to bed early last night, around eleven. that could mean it’s been at least, i don’t know,” you check the time, “eleven hours. which gives us five, minimum.” you think you can physically feel sam tense up next to you.

“five hours?” sam repeats, his voice taut, like he’s holding back anger, fear, maybe more. “and were there any times before that you felt out of breath?” 

you think back to yesterday. sure, every time i looked at you, isn’t quite an answer that you can give. “um, i’m not sure,” you say, sounding more cryptic than casual, as you had meant. you see dean’s eyebrow raise through the rearview mirror.

“you’re not sure?” dean asks, unbelieving. the two brothers are starting to sound like a broken record as they repeat every other thing you say back to you.

“yeah. nothing comes to mind,” you say, more firmly this time.

sam sighs. “you can’t seriously think it’s a good idea to hide that sort of thing from us if it happened. this is serious.”

you scoff, “oh, really? i wasn’t aware, it’s not like it’s my life on the line, or anything like that.”

“alright, let’s not get pissy,” dean intervenes.

“pissy?” you scoff again, “right, because this is serious and i’m apparently unaware of that.”

dean says your name, voice a little chiding as he tries to disperse some of the tension that’s building within the small space of the car. “let’s focus on the case here. sam is right, we need to know everything you do. was there anything else weird you noticed last night?”

“i don’t know!” you exclaim before calming down a bit and taking a deep breath. “i had this ringing in my ears for a minute, around ten. i thought it was a headache. and … i did feel breathless, but just for a second. i thought it was … something else.”

“why didn’t you say anything?” sam asks, immediately remembering this. you had pressed your hand to your ear. he believed you when you said it was a headache, but he should have known better. you’re far more likely to rub your temples when you feel a headache coming on.

“i thought it was something else,” you repeat.

“like what?” he presses.

“like–” you hesitate, “like nothing. just nothing, i don’t know.”

dean interrupts again to get things back on track, “so that could mean four hours, not five.” you see sam’s jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye.

“yeah,” you confirm, hoping your voice doesn’t reveal how anxious you really are.

“my question is why just you?” dean asks. “i’d normally figure it’s because they suspect you to be a hunter, but if they were able to get your dna, they probably had access to ours, too. the witch think you’re madly in love with sammy or somethin’?”

you fluster at that, mind scrambling, why in the goddamn hell would dean say that? does he want me dead faster? “uhm, uh,” you laugh a little, completely awkward about it, “why would they think that? we were clearly, you know, in a working relationship, not a, hah– romantic,” you clear your throat, “relationship. i’m sure it’s just the hunter thing, maybe they couldn’t get your dna… or they thought i was more worth killing,” you attempt at a joking insult, but you’re still sort of jerking through your words and reeling from someone saying “you’re madly in love with sammy” out loud.

to your left, sam looks almost as flustered as you feel, which brings you an ounce of comfort.

“whatever you say,” dean shrugs.

when you get back to the hotel, sam’s practically running inside to pull out his laptop, and dean speeds away the second the car doors close behind the two of you. both of you are fidgety and antsy as you conduct your research in silence. you think sam’s even more nervous than you, with his leg bouncing and teeth chewing away at his lower lip. you’re not sure if you should comfort him, or let him be in favor of getting the research done. it doesn’t take too long for him to find the original spell, and as he tells you about it, some nervousness dissipates when the both of you get back into the groove of a normal hunt, trying to pretend that this time, the consequences aren’t as personal as they could ever get.

you can’t find any dirt on henry in any records, so you focus on staff from the bar and diner from yesterday to see if there’s any overlap that could have gotten dna from both you and all the other four victims. something else entirely jumps out at you as you check employment records.

“sam, it’s natalie,” you blurt out into the silence of the room. he raises his eyebrows, and you explain before he can even ask. “she works at the bar. and i drank some of that lemonade she gave us. she had easy access to everyone’s dna, and henry was the only deviation from the pattern.”

sam stands as you explain, “okay, let’s go.”

“no, let’s call dean and finish finding the reversal spell. i’d like to have a backup plan, if that’s alright.” sam purses his lips, looking like he wants to argue. you propose something more rational than his idea, “we’ll call dean and let him know. he can go to her house and make sure she’s the real deal before we go, too.”

“fine,” sam agrees, pulling out his phone, just as it begins to ring. he answers it and puts it on speaker, “dean, it’s natalie.”

“yeah, i know. that’s what i was about to tell you, the idiots from last night didn’t bother to mention it,” he complains. “i’m headed to her house right now.” to prove it, you hear the car door open and close. “how’s it going on your end?”

“we found the spell, we’re looking for the reversal right now,” you answer. “call us if you need help.”

“mm, you just take care o’ yourself, alright? i’ll call you back.” after that, all you get is the hang-up tone. 

a bit later, your concentration is interrupted by the pinging of sam’s phone. you watch him as he checks the messages, then looks up at you with a poorly hidden scowl.

“she wasn’t at her house,” he explains, “dean’s headed to her sister’s to look for her there. but it’s definitely her, he found a secret room full of, y’know, as he’d say, ‘witchy stuff.’”

you try to hide your disappointment and the uneven rise and fall of your chest. sam’s stayed mostly focused on the research, but every now and then, you feel him looking you over, brow furrowed and eyes concerned as he checks for anything abnormal. he’s looking at you like that now.

“damn,” is all you manage in response while still trying to stay casual about it.

“how are you feeling?” he asks. you expected the question, but you still don’t want to answer. you’re about to tell him you’re fine, since you’re not really running out of breath yet, until he speaks again before you can, “and don’t say ‘fine.’”

“i am fine,” you insist immediately, “just extra tired from getting a little less oxygen than normal. but nothing crazy. i can still focus on this research and i can still hold a weapon.” you demonstrate by grabbing one of the knives you keep strapped to your thigh and twirling it a little in your hand. sam’s face spells out the word “really?”

“just– tell me if it gets worse. please,” he’s just about begging, and with a bit of puppy dog eye action, you’re crumbling.

“okay, sam,” you relent, letting your voice go soft. he’s really scared for you, and it makes you feel just about every little thing. you want to comfort him, reassure that you’ll be okay, even when you’re terrified for yourself. you want him to comfort you, for that exact reason, and you want to hold his hand. maybe you can be scared together, a little closer than you are now. you want to kiss him, because what if this is the only chance you get? that thought horrifies you. then you wonder if it’s for the best. maybe you should die as his best friend, because dying as his anything is better than scaring him away first. it’s hard to concentrate on the research, but it’s not hard to find the motivation. the hope is to avoid death completely.

finally, you find it.

“i got it, sam!” you’re excited, then a bit breathless after pushing so much air out of your lungs so fast. the breath you take in is sort of shuddering, and it makes sam frown. he doesn’t even try to hide how worried he is. his face is nothing but unadulterated concern and care and … and something else before that expression melts away and he’s focusing on the computer screen that you tilted towards him. the crease between his brows only grows as his eyes flit down the list of ingredients.

“we don’t have the half of these ingredients,” he worries.

“no,” you admit, “but there’s a witch in town who’s away from home who might.”

to get there, sam doesn’t hesitate to steal a car from the motel parking lot, and this time you can’t even argue given the fact that you’re pretty sure you have less than two hours to live at this point. you promised sam you’d tell him if it got worse, but as it does, you want to say something less and less.

sam picks the lock of the door, entering the house carefully with you right behind. weapons drawn, you walk the route that dean gave you to the hidden room, the door in the wall of the hallway left open for you by dean.

it’s much darker than the rest of the house from the lack of windows and bright lights. this, paired with the eerie assortment of basic herbs to what might be jars of blood, makes it look like natalie really leaned into the witchy aesthetic, which you’d find understandable if she weren’t using her magic to kill people.

sam walks faster than you know is wise to match paces with, so you follow behind him slowly as he rushes to set the computer with the list of ingredients on the table in the center of the room abd begin the spell. you’re a split second too late to shout in warning when you see a figure emerge from behind a shelf of herbs.

sam whirls around at your cry, gun raised, only to be hit on the side of the head, hard, by a wooden bat in natalie’s hand. he crumples to the ground despite his size, and without batting an eye, your knife is flying through the air, straight for the spot between natalie’s shoulder blades. but at the last second, she spins around, and with a flick of her hand, the knife falls to the ground. you reach for your gun, but through your hindered breathing, you’re slow. she has no trouble launching the bat at you at an unnatural speed. the wood slams into your chest, sending you sprawling and gasping in your weakened state. you’re fighting for breath so hard that you can barely register her hauling you up and tying your hands behind your back, then doing the same to sam. somehow, she’s able to get his weight on a chair and tie him to the wobbly piece of furniture. then, it’s your turn, and by the time you come back to your senses, breathing far more labored than before, you’re tied to a chair, back to back with sam.

natalie gives you a horrid smile as she tugs at a knot to tighten it.

“well, isn’t this fortuitous! such a lovely surprise for you two to visit me,” she chimes, just as you feel sam stirring behind you. his head lolls back, brushing against your own. you completely ignore her in favor of calling his name. a rumbling groan escapes his lips as he stumbles back into consciousness.

“that’s right!” natalie grins, “it’ll be much better with pretty boy awake.” she walks around you, and you hear a smacking sound that you presume to be her hitting his cheeks to wake him further.

“don’t touch him,” you practically growl. it sounds far less intimidating than you hoped in your breathless voice. she laughs and sam lets out an audible huff of air as he wakes.

“there he is,” natalie grins. “now i’ve got two love birds at my mercy! much better than i could have imagined. you know, i couldn’t watch the deaths of the others, so this is far more exciting. i thought i’d have to miss yours, too!” she motions to you. “but now i get to watch you die, watch pretty boy watch you die, and then kill him, too! lovely isn’t it? i’ve never had such luck, thank you idiots for bringing it to me.”

“you’re not killing anyone today,” sam retorts, anger filling his voice. with a bit of an uncomfortable stretch, you twist your fingers around to grab a hold of his. it’s awkward, but you take advantage of her horrible ramblings to keep her distracted and try to guide sam’s hands to the tiny blade attached to the seam of your jacket sleeve.

“i’m not?” she laughs, “mmm, you don’t really seem like you’re in the position to determine that, pretty boy.” you hate her calling him that. “well, love will do that to a person. makes you easy targets, blinds you. you two were just too easy, so busy making eyes at each other to pay any proper attention to me.” you conclude she’s crazy, rambling on about what made her angry enough to kill. you’re sure she caught you making eyes at him, but she’s crazy talking like he’s visibly in love with you too. immediately catching on to your plan, sam’s hands are fumbling around with your jacket sleeve, trying to get the knife unstuck so it can slip down and into your hands.

“it’s so goddamn irritating when people are just so in love with each other. makes me want to hurl,” she complains.

“sounds to me like you’re just jealous your boyfriend didn’t treat you like that,” you prod at her weak spot. she whirls on you, grabbing the front of your jacket and yanking you towards her.

“so i killed him. and everything he was supposed to be,” she hisses. “and know i’m going to kill you two pining idiots. you know, you don’t have very long,” she feigns sympathy in the condescending tone of her voice. when she slams you back against the chair, it takes your breath away for a frighteningly long time. sam’s so worried, calling your name out over and over again as you choke on nothing, that he almost doesn’t realize that the movement also helped dislodge the knife and let it fall into your hands. it slices a thin line down your arm, but you couldn’t care less as you begin to work on cutting through his bonds.

“oh, shut up, lover boy,” natalie growls, hating the way he says your name with so much care as she stays leaning over you, a sick smile on her face. why the hell is she calling him lover boy? you know that’s not what you should be so worried about in this moment, but it’s the one thing that you can think about. “i’m busy watching your little lover die! i think you’ll look so good crying over them, won’t you?”

when sam’s ties snap, he stays in place, holding onto the rope so it doesn’t drop to the ground and alert her. he just shimmies the knife from your hand to his and begins working on your own ties. through it all, he pretends to struggle helplessly, cursing at her wildly.

natalie rolls her eyes, then stands straight. “if you don’t shut it, i’m going to make you,” she snarls, stalking around to stand in front of sam. in an instant, he brings the knife to the rope binding him to the chair, snapping it and lunging towards her. judging from the choked cry that escapes her throat, sam’s already plunged the knife into her neck. you hear him grunt, then the sound of her body hits the floor before he’s turned back to you, quickly freeing you all the way and pulling you to your feet. he’s halfway to the door with his hand gripping yours when you tug back.

“wait… sam, wait!” you gasp, and he’s immediately face to face with you, sweet eyes looking you up and down with confusion and worry. “it’s not– it didn’t work. the spell, we need to do the spell.”

“what do you mean? that’s impossible, killing the witch who performed the spell always–,” he fully takes you in for the first time. your chest is still heaving, your breath rattling, and it’s undeniably getting worse by the minute. “okay, okay. just sit down.” he guides you back to a chair, turning it to face the table so he can keep an eye on you as he works. this time, you’re having a hard time hiding the fear from your eyes, and he reads that loud and clear. he lets you have his strong hands cupping your face for just a moment. “you’re gonna be fine. i’m gonna fix this.” he says it with such conviction that you’d do anything to believe him. then his warm touch is gone, and you’re again hit with the reality that it’s getting harder and harder to breathe, to get any satisfactory amount of air.

your eyes follow him desperately as he rushes about the area, checking and rechecking the spell as he adds ingredients to a small cup he finds. his movements become more and more panicked by the second as he notices your breathing getting worse, more fluttery and gulping. sam’s muttering to himself as he works, too scared to look at your face for too long. unable to find one of the ingredients, he curses loudly as he searches, shoving a whole rack of ingredients to the ground. glass shatters and the metal rack clangs against the ground, the sound echoing throughout the space.

flinching at the sound, you cry out his name, struggling to speak, “you have… you have to.. to calm .. calm down.”

“i can’t!” he practically shouts, and you think you’ve never seen him this distraught, this helpless before.

“why?” is all you can manage between gasps.

“because you’re dying! and i can’t let you die, i won’t.” he’s still rummaging through ingredients as he speaks. he’s still refusing to look at you.

you want him to say it, the truth, so you repeat the question, “why?” you wheeze out, desperate to hear it in case he can’t finish the spell on time.

“because i love you!” he’s no longer shouting when he says it. his voice is all desperation and helplessness and utter sincerity, said like all he needs in the world is for you to understand that. you’re not sure if the shuddering breath you let out could count as a sigh of relief, but it’s the closest you’ll ever get.

you take him in. tears running down his cheeks, lips pursed and eyebrows pinched like he’s holding back from crying out. he’s pretty like that, you think. maybe that’s a cruel thought, but you love him too much to think otherwise. he’s always pretty; when he’s mad at you, when he’s bleeding, when he’s stitching himself up, when he’s biting his lip in concentration. when he talks about something that makes him excited or when he’s crying. when he’s oblivious of the way you look at him while he sleeps, and when he makes you love him so hard that it hurts worse than anything a monster could do to you.

you’re lightheaded, and taking in so little air that you can’t say it back. all you want to do is say it back. you slide out of the chair and onto your hands and knees, shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up. from the ground, you can hear sam, moving around, letting jars fall and shatter to the ground, crying.

when you collapse to the floor, writhing and gasping for any semblance of air, sam snaps. he can’t find the goddamn rosemary, such a simple and common herb, even for a normal kitchen, especially compared to all the other ingredients, but he knows it’s essential for its protection, purification, and healing properties. he can’t give up, he can’t let you die, but you’re writhing on the ground and crying inbetween gasps and all he wants is to hold you close, brush your tears away and tell you it’ll be alright. he barely catches the sound of your voice over the noise of his searching.

“please…”

“what? what is it, honey?” he asks through tears, unable to look at you as his eyes scan a new shelf for the basic pine-needle shape of the leaves, maybe even the little purple flowers to help it stand out.

“hold me,” you wheeze, afraid of dying alone on the stone cold floor as you feel your consciousness slipping through your fingertips like the sand of an hourglass. sam feels like he’s had his heart cleaved in two by a blunt ax coated in the world’s most vile poison.

he chokes on a sob before he can speak again, “i can’t. i’m so sorry, baby, i can't. i just need the rosemary, it’s so close, please, baby.” he’s not sure who he’s begging to. you, to stay alive? god, to intervene? himself, to finish the spell on time? anything and anyone who will listen, most likely. you don’t have the energy to ask him to hold you again.

that moment of silence is the most horrible of them all, then the door swings open with a bang, letting the bright lights from the rest of the house flood into the dark space. dean’s eyes zero in on you on the floor, grasping helplessly at your throat, and he’s on his knees by your side in a second.

he scoops you up in his arms and to his chest. “hey. hey, hey, hey. it’s okay,” he comforts, his eyes wet because he doesn’t know if he believes himself, given your state. “sam’s gonna fix it, darlin’. you’re gonna be just fine.” he’s holding you too tight to wipe away the tears that helplessly stream down your face and he clings to the fact that your hand is gripping his wrist tight.

“dean, rosemary!” sam barks. dean looks up from you, eyes scanning the mess around you; natalie’s dead body and the blood from her wound seeping slowly over the floor, the shattered glass and clutter of dried herbs along with other magical ingredients. sam realizes dean probably won’t recognize it on his own. “dried bundle, purple flowers, thin leaves,” he instructs as best as he can as he continues his own search. dean feels awful as he lets you fall back to the ground and your weak hands fingers scrape at his arms, but he thinks he sees it, rolled far away and invisible unless you’re crouched to the ground. he scrambles across the floor to grab it and tosses it to sam, who barely manages to catch it with his shaking hands.

sam rips at it with thick, clumsy fingers, crushing the brittle leaves between the pads of his forefinger and thumb into the mixture. he’s silently praying it’s enough as he mixes it in, letting a few drops slosh over the side of the cup in his rush. dean’s back with you, holding you up in a sitting position for sam with a hand smoothing up and down your arm in his best effort of a comforting gesture. he presses a kiss to your temple as sam drops down in front of you. sam uses one large hand to cup the side of your face, and the other to bring the cup to your lips. for a moment, he’s terrified beyond comprehension when the first bit of the liquid he pours into your mouth just dribbles right back out and down your chin.

you’ve gone nearly completely still; your eyes are barely open and your breathing so shallow that only dean knows you’re still inhaling because he’s got you so close.

“please,” sam begs, whispering your name with such conviction, such desperation, that it pulls you away from the claws of unconsciousness just enough to get you to swallow weakly. sam tilts the cup up, just a bit more, and the rim knocks against your bottom teeth as more foul tasting liquid seeps into your mouth. you swallow again, then gag a little when he pours too much for you to handle in your current state. sam’s hopeful when half the mixture is down your throat and he tilts the cup for you again, but the liquid falls down your chin this time, and your eyes are closed. you’ve gone totally still in dean’s arms.

“no, no, no, wake up. c’mon, we’re almost there. you gotta wake up,” sam begs again, more tears spilling onto his cheeks after his hope is stolen away, more cruelly than ever. “please, please, please, honey. please wake up.” his voice breaks as he calls out your name again, setting the cup on the floor and taking you from dean to pull you into his own arms. dean lets him, swallowing hard and not daring to move an inch as he takes in the sight, maybe just about the most horrible thing he’s seen in his fucked up life. that’s the second family member he’s had die in his arms, and the first is holding your limp body as he shakes, cries, and begs, beyond distraught as he denies the fact that he couldn’t save you. dean curses his life. he wishes it was him, thinks about the fact that he’s always too late to make a difference. he’s ready to sell his soul again, ready to go to hell and back.

you’re dead weight against sam’s chest, your clammy forehead and tear-sticky cheeks pressed against the sweaty skin of his neck. he gathers you closer, his hand tugging at your jacket and rubbing up and down your back, begging for you to wake up.

dean’s about to interrupt sam’s mourning to tell him he’s gonna look for the nearest crossroads, that all sam needs to do is keep your body safe. then you shudder in sam’s arms and he’s calling your name again, far beyond desperate that you’ll hear him. he says your name like a prayer, with so much reverence, far more than he could ever muster up for the god he wants to believe in.

you take in a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, and you’re gasping for air, grasping at sam’s sturdy arms like you’ve almost just drowned. sam just about sobs in relief, comforting you through his own tears, “oh, you’re okay, honey, you’re alright. i’ve got you. just breathe, baby, just breathe, that's all you gotta do.” his voice instantly calms you, and you wrap your shaky arms around his neck to show him you understand. he’s got you. he buries his face into your neck, trying not to hold you too tight for fear of restricting your breathing. you feel the wetness of his tears on you, warm and so tired. you don’t want him to cry. he loves you.

his hands smooth up and down your back, helping you set a pace to calm down your erratic breathing as you let a fresh wave of tears fall on his hot skin. they’re tears of relief, most of all. of exhaustion and leftover fear, and oh, glory, tears because he loves you. he said it, and now he can’t take it back because you love him far too much for that.

“sammy,” you breathe out. he just holds you tighter. “don’t cry, sam. it’s okay. i’m okay.” you slip your fingers into his hair, your hand so gentle as you run it through his pretty locks. you just want to comfort him, take away all the fear from the last few hours that he's been holding onto, letting pile up and up into an unmanageable, unruly, ugly tower. you suppose him crying so much is him letting the tower topple over, almost as simple as a toddler’s chubby, innocent hands to a wooden block castle. but it still tugs at your heart, pulls at you so hard because you hate to hear him cry, feel him shake and stiffen up around you, too scared to let you go for even a second. “i’m okay,” you repeat, voice fragile from the whispering brush of death’s fingers to your palm, but you try to make it strong and confident for him, “you saved me, sammy, i’m alright. it’s alright. it’s over. you don’t need to worry anymore.” 

you think he relaxes just a touch at your words, but he doesn’t move an inch from his spot on the ground, or say a thing to interrupt the sound of your breathing. all he does is cradle you close, one hand to your back so he can feel it shift when you take in or let out air, and the other splayed from the curve of your neck, up to the base of your head. without moving too much, he presses a long kiss to the ambiguous space above your ear. that’s not enough, so he tilts his head more to press his lips to the skin of your forehead.

dean hates to break the silent reverence between the two of you, and it means more than the world, the whole goddamn universe or anything else he could ever think of, to see this instead of you dead in sam’s arms. you might be the love of sam’s life, but that just makes dean all the more protective of you. to dean, you’re family, and you have been for a long time. that’s why he needs to get the two of you away from here, before anyone finds you and the dead body.

“sam,” dean interrupts, voice somehow both gentle and extra gruff, “we gotta go.” he knows sam can get you up on his own, but he still places a firm hand on your elbow as the two of you stand. he doesn’t want to let his hand fall away from you, but he does anyway. on the way out and to the car, you’re tucked safe into sam’s side, and dean’s got his gun in hand, ready to protect the both of you need be.

dean expects it when sam climbs in the backseat with you, just thankful to get away from the damned house and back to the motel. the ride is mostly silent, save the rumble of the engine, and sam’s hand stays securely wrapped around yours, itching to pull you even closer. you yawn and sam tugs at your hand, then drops his gaze to his lap when you look at him, offering to let you lie there. you can’t resist, because historically, your head in his lap has been heaven, and you figure that this time, after having heard him say “i love you,” it’ll be something better than heaven, something undiscovered and infinitely more precious than all the gold and silver in the world. so you drop your head to his thigh, and his hands are immediately on you. you’ve got the warmth of his palms on your head and your shoulder. your own hand is on his knee, taking in the feel of his time-worn jeans, and the muscle, sinew, and bone underneath.

you fall asleep, just 10 minutes from the motel, and sam doesn’t want to wake you, but you always do anytime he tries to carry you to bed.

he calls your name, all tenderness and sweet as he rubs your shoulder. you stir easily, only having fallen into a light slumber. the sigh you let out when you sit up is soft, and sam thinks it’s cute. then he thinks about the fact that, when you both settle down, he won’t have to hold that thought back. “you’re cute,” he can say, and make you both a little flustered before pressing a kiss to your lips. until then, he’s getting out of the car with you, only letting his hands stray from you when dean pulls you into a hug, right then and there. he holds you tight, showing you how scared he was too, so you squeeze back with extra care.

“don’t scare us like that again, kiddo. you got it?” he mumbles into the embrace. 

you nod, “i got it.” he lingers for a moment, then presses a quick kiss to the side of your head before parting and letting sam take over again.

he’s got a hand stuck to your back on the way into the room, all the way to the bed you shared last night. you don’t hesitate to peel off your dirty shirt and go to put on a new one, but sam’s already holding one out to you. dean disappears into the bathroom, despite not wanting to let you out of his sight.

you tug on the shirt, then collapse into bed, taking sam with you.

“you stink,” you complain lightheartedly, looking at him with honey-sweet love in your eyes. he wants to joke back, but he’s not quite there yet.

“i’ll shower after dean, if you want,” he offers, nothing but sincere. you smile at him, his nose inches from yours.

“but then you’d have to get up,” you say.

“sure, but if that’s what you want,” he repeats. he’d do anything for you, you think.

you shake your head. “that’s not what i want. i don’t want you to go. but i also want to fall asleep in your arms, and it sucks that you smell like blood, sweat, and nasty potions.”

“so what do i do, baby?” he asks, voice light, but you think he really means it. you melt at the pet name.

“hmmm,” you consider, truly not sure. you’re all quick in the shower after years of experience in motel bathrooms, but that still feels like such a long time to be away from him, especially since you should probably shower, too. you decide to suck it up. “you shower, then me. dean said the water was still hot yesterday, even when he went last.” you’re not sure when your voice dropped to a whisper, but it’s quiet now. he sighs, half disappointed, but knowing it’ll be much more comfortable that way.

the second you’re out of the shower and dressed, sam’s tugging you back into bed with him and tucking you into his chest. his hold is still protective and a little wary. you want to make him relax, so you wiggle away just a bit to look at his face.

“sam, i’m so hungry,” you complain. he smiles at you, thinking you’re too cute to resist when you whine just a little. and he just loves it when you say his name.

“you’re gonna make me get up again?” he asks, and you hold back a triumphant grin because his voice has turned pleasantly lighthearted.

“you’re gonna let me starve?” you tease back.

“fine,” he huffs, “we can go to the vending machine together.” he really doesn’t want to be far from you.

“no,” you protest, dragging out the ‘o’ just a little. “we had that earlier. and chips don’t count as a meal. poor dean probably hasn’t eaten at all today! we deserve a treat,” you argue.

sam can’t deny you anything you want in this moment. “we do,” he agrees, “what d’you want? maybe we can convince dean to pick it up for us.”

you smile. “mmm, that’s not fair. dean deserves a treat, too. i’ll satisfy myself with vending machine food for a few hours, then we can go out to an early dinner.”

“are you sure?” sam asks. you smile more.

“mhmm,” you nod. “i have the excuse to buy a candy bar too now.”

dean, splayed out on his own bed, has likely been listening in on this whole conversation, and graciously chosen not to interrupt. he smiles at you as you exit the room.

with a glance that no one’s around, sam slips his hand into yours as you make your way to the vending machine down the hall. your heart blooms at the feeling, at the way he’s been looking at you without shame and suddenly you realize you never said it back. sam punches in the number for an excessive amount of snacks, getting all of yours, his, and dean’s favorites, waiting til they all fall down to collect them. he bends over, gathering them all in his big arms and wide pockets and handing a few to you. the crinkling of plastic fills the quiet air as you watch him with a sort of worship and adoration dripping from your eyes. you take in the curve of his back, the peek of his spine that you get from his tshirt riding up a bit, and the pretty brown hair on the back of his head. when he stands, he catches that gaze, and for once you don’t hide it away or tuck it into that corner of the drawer where you keep all the little trinkets you don’t need, but can’t bear to get rid of. because you need this, and you can have this.

“i didn’t get to say it back.” your voice comes out hushed, reverent.

“say what?” he asks, matching his voice to yours without even trying. you take in all the subtle ways that his face changes, as he thinks about what you could mean. the left side of his mouth quirks down, just a bit, and his eyebrows pinch together. it’s not quite the expression he makes then he’s worried or upset, just thinking.

“i love you, too.” when those words finally escape, finally make themselves known and heard, everything is different. it’s like you’ve never really breathed before this, because the simplest of things, like an inhale that fills your lungs with stale motel air, is so good, so satisfying, so much better when he looks at you like that. “for as long as i can remember, sam, i love you. when we were kids at bobby’s, seventeen and getting soaked in the rain, every moment before then and every moment after, and–”

his lips are on yours and there’s a messy ruckus of plastic wrapped snacks being dropped to the floor, because he couldn’t care about anything except kissing you. his warm, rough hands are so gentle cupping your cheeks and pulling you into him, and you follow suit in disregarding the food in your hands to place them firm on his waist, almost squeezing his sides because you need this to be as real and as solid as it possibly can be.

some might question the merit of this being your first kiss with each other. but it’s so you and sam, standing in an empty motel hallway next to the vending machine and it’s crappy food scattered around your feet. plastic crinkling and rustling when you get closer, and a hunger so insatiable that it makes it hard to breathe.

when you finally break away, panting just a bit, sam’s eyes swim with concern as his mind flashes back to you just an hour ago.

“i’m okay,” you interrupt his paranoid thoughts and loop your arms around his neck, “i’m okay, sam. ‘s just you. baby, i know this is a horrible time to say this, but you always take my breath away, in the best way. you’re so pretty, and i’m so in love with you that when i look at you for too long, i forget to breathe, and–”

his lips are back on yours, telling you me too, me too, me too. saying as they push and mold against yours, you take my breath away and i love you for it.

[semischarmed]

River

River was a walking enigma. 

Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.

When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.

During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him. 

My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.

The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly. 

River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-

“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.

He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness. 

I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark. 

As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night. 

That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.

= = = = 

“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.

Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.

I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out. 

The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.

Then came the day before the big presentation.

“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.

= = = =

“You can set your stuff down there”.

It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment. 

A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements. 

“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”

He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water. 

“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs. 

And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile. 

“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk. 

It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite. 

My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.

Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval. 

I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet. 

The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.

I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped. 

I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.

“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness. 

My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.

My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school. 

A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”

I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.

Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists. 

“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.

He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!” 

The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.

I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own. 

I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”

I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”

I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River. 

I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.

I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.

“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind. 

“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me. 

River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?

[gisele0127]

Could you do something where you ask Michael Kaiser, Rin + Sae Itoshi, and Reo Mikage if they only love you for your body? Thanks :)

notes: thank you for the request i love it :) not proofread though :(

Michael Kaiser

╰┈➤ “if anything you love me for my body”

you lay on his bed looking up at the ceiling after being intimate with michael. he comes back in the room holding two glasses of water humming to himself.

“here you go my lovely lady”

you pick up the glass of water, thankful for his kind actions. michael is a very loving partner, he always makes sure you feel loved and appreciated. even with all the assurance you can’t help but feel that maybe he’s just using you for your body. he’s always praising it, but maybe it was just something you weren’t used to.

“what you thinking about love?” he looks down at you lightly smiling. letting the intrusive thoughts win, “do you only love me because of my body?”. he chokes on his water and looks at you offended.

“excuse me? if anything i should be the one saying that. i mean look at me” you turn to face him, kind of annoyed he once again made this about himself. wrapping his arms around you and softly kissing your temple he says, “i’m just joking love. what would make you think that anyways?”

“i don’t know, you just always compliment my body so i just can’t help it” he smiles smugly, “oh i see what this is about. for the record i love everything about you, especially your caring nature. i guess my way of showing you love is complimenting you. and who do you think i am?! talking about im only using you for your body! i’m not a douche”

you see him pouting, he’s so dramatic. but in all honesty his words make you feel better, and you feel stupid for ever thinking that. of course he loves you for you. you’re the only person who could ever put up with him.

Rin itoshi

╰┈➤ “babe it’s 3 in the morning”

it’s currently 3:08 in the morning and you’re laying awake in bed next to your boyfriend. he’s sound asleep facing the other way, but you? you’ve just woken up from a nightmare where in which while you and rin were in a long distance relationship and he happened to have cheated on you, because “texting you was not enough”.

you stir him awake feeling a bit insecure. “rin, wake up” groaning he tiredly says, “babe it’s 3 in the morning what do you want?”

“do you only love me for my body?” “no” and he goes back to sleep a little annoyed that you woke him up for one of you silly questions.

“i can feel you staring at me y/n. what’s wrong?” “i don’t know” he groans annoyed, and drapes his arms around your torso.

“that’s such a stupid question. i don’t even care about what you look like. you could be as ugly as a troll and id still love you. now go to sleep i have to wake up early”

you softly smile at rin, sometimes he could be a little weird but you know what he means. but one things for sure, you feel better knowing that you boyfriend would still in fact love you if you were a troll.

Sae Itoshi

╰┈➤ “i cant name someone else with a better ass”

“do you only love me for my body?”

sae’s taken aback by such a random question while he’s sitting down watching replays of games.

“excuse me?” he looks at you with confusion.

“do. you. only. love. me. for. my. body?”

“well i can’t name someone else with a better ass” he says bluntly. sae has no filter and he says things as he sees. the man has a butt fetish after all. you look at him surprised that your boyfriend actually said that.

“what? i’m just being honest stop looking at me like that.” he says bluntly. you’re now laughing because you can in fact name other people with a better butt, but you quickly turn the conversation back to what you were saying before.

“i’m being serious sae”

“so am i”

“you only love me because of my ass?”

“yep”

“you’re an asshole you know that?”

he pulls you into a hug, something he rarely does and says, “i’m your asshole. and no that’s not the only thing i love about you” he flicks your forehead and gently kisses it. “it’s just a bonus”.

Mikage Reo

╰┈➤ “i have standards you know.”

“you really think that?!” he sounds surprised that you would even ask that question. “we’re literally doing face masks and watching keeping up with the kardashians and you’re asking me if i love you only because of your body?”

he’s so dramatic. “i have standards you know. i’m not some low life.” you look at him seriously, a little hurt to be quite honest. he notices the glossyness in your eyes and is quick to give you a soft look.

“i don’t just fall for anyone you know. you’re special, and you know that. so don’t come asking me silly questions” he ruffles your hair.

you feel better at his reassurance, and when you think deeper in thought you scold yourself. reo could’ve chosen anyone in the world and he chose you. he’s lucky to have you.

in the morning you wake up to an extravagant breakfast made by yours truly (surprisingly), and now you’re thinking about how lucky you got.

[seat-safety-switch]

Sure, you can buy any number of "labour-saving" machines. You won't have to work as hard, the greed-heads selling them to you claim. When they break down, just buy another one. I feel that this mentality discards society's most useful members: weird idiots who really like fixing things.

Here's an example for you. Recently, I found a busted-ass old dishwasher in the alley. Do I already have a working dishwasher? Kind of. Did I think that it was a super tiny problem and I'd be able to get this second dishwasher banging away in no time, ready to do essential life-improving tasks like – uhhhhh – wash suspension components prior to painting? You bet.

Normally, I would just spritz this stuff with the garden hose, then leave it out in the backyard until I hyperfixated on "I gotta paint something real soon or I'll die." That sounded like a lot of work, and a dishwasher is meant to save that work, so I quickly set about spending several hours understanding the intricate mechanisms on view inside the mind of the fucking asshole who engineered this thing in the first place. Like, seriously bro? A filter this size? It won't trap 75W90, with or without friction modifier. You might as well just pull it out. No wonder the pump blew up trying to strain these mouldy old chunks of potato that got stuck in it.

Once I'd burned a couple evenings of intense labour on the dishwasher, I decided that it wasn't really worth the effort after all, and kicked it to the curb after salvaging what little scrap metal I could from the pile of junk that remained after I finished smashing it with the entire contents of my toolbox and jumping up and down on the front panel in a childlike rage. My suspension components remained unwashed – that's okay, I don't even need to paint them, they'll just rust – but I felt that I had productively spent my time and learned a lot about why I shouldn't try to fix dishwashers I find in the alley.

Just imagine all the projects I didn't start because I was busy doing this! That's almost an infinite amount of work saved, which means it was all worth it.

[cosmerelists]

If Stormlight Characters Read The Stormlight Archive

As requested by @imtheseventh :)

Let's say Stormlight Characters got their hands on The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson--you know, the book written about all of their lives. What would they think of Sanderson's depiction of them?

[SPOILERS FOR STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE THROUGH RHYTHM OF WAR!]

1. Navani

Navani: Say, Dalinar... Navani: Why is Evi's name replaced by Shshsh in all of your POV chapters? Dalinar: ... Dalinar: Ah, so here's the thing...

2. Adolin

Adolin: Shallan, wait! Adolin: This is feeling like a flashback chapter about your life. Adolin: Don't read it to me. It feels weird to find out this way. Adolin: I'd rather wait until you're ready to tell me. Shallan: Ah, so you want to stop listening whenever my past comes up? Shallan: That's exactly what I used to do! High five! Adolin: I don't Adolin: I don't know that this is a high-five moment.

3. Shallan

Shallan: L-Listen, Jasnah... Shallan: I SWEAR I was neither thinking about nor looking at your boobs quite as much as the book makes it sound.. Shallan: I think this Sanderson guy was just projecting! Jasnah: I believe you, Shallan. Shallan: Y-You do? Jasnah: I have to assume he wanted to establish my beauty but felt that it would be less salacious to have it filtered through another woman's perspective. Shallan: Y-Yeah, that makes sense... Jasnah: After all, if you loved my boobs that much, I don't know why you sat there and doodled Captain Kaladin instead of them... Shallan: WHELP TIME TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT

4. Syl

Syl: ... Kaladin: Hey, are you okay? You seem...down. Kaladin: And are you wearing trousers?? Syl: Was...was there something wrong in how I dressed? Kaladin: No? What do you mean? Syl: Like, was it immature? Kaladin: No? Syl: Then why does this Brandon guy call my dress "girlish" like 19 billion times?!? Hoid: Oh, don't worry about that! Writers get weirdly fixated on words! At least you weren't always doing things maladroitly, ha! Syl: ...What? Hoid: Whoops wrong series!

5. Gaz

Gaz: Look...I know I wasn't the Almighty's most perfect guy, but.. Gaz: Could he maybe have written me as slightly LESS of the embodiment of a sniveling cremling?? Gaz: Like, give a guy a break! Vathah: What, too much realism for a fantasy? Gaz: You shut up!

6. Sadeas

Sadeas: I was so upset...so flabbergasted...when Dalinar outmaneuvered me in that disadvantaged duel... Sadeas: But it was all just LUCK?! Sadeas: He didn't maneuver for SHIT! Sadeas: He just happened to have EVERY SINGLE PERSON WITH SUPERPOWERS on his side and they were ALL stupid enough to get INVOLVED Sadeas: It's so much worse now!!! Ialai: At least their dark-eyed captain ruined it at the end. Sadeas: Ugh, yeah, thank the stars for THAT.

7. Kaladin

Kaladin: I actually hate this. Lyn: Why? Kaladin: Hearing about all my friends dying...again...having my actions framed as some type of "heroism"... Kaladin: T-That guy writes me like I'm the hero! Lyn: ...I am fairly certain that you are. Kaladin: Ughhhh...

8. Lirin & Hesina

The Way of Kings sits before them Hesina: ... Lirin: ... Hesina: ... Lirin: ... Hesina: Do you want to go & cry forever over our boys? Lirin: Yes please.

9. Moash

Moash: Wow. Moash: After hearing all about King Elhokar from the perspective of the people who actually like him... Moash: I gotta say... Moash: I was totally right! Moash: That guy is SUCH an asshole!

10. Dalinar

Dalinar: ... Dalinar: ... Dalinar: ... Dalinar: I just can't believe that he STOLE Nohadon’s TITLE.

11. (!) Bonus Vin

Vin: KELSIER WHAT THE HELL

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VIII)

Pairing | Eddie x shy!reader Warnings | 18+ only. Do not interact if you are underage. Roleplay (PrincessxWannabe Usurper lmao), sexual fantasies (including rockstarxgroupie), Eddie says some weird possessive stuff but reader likes it, oral (M receiving), P in V sex, dom!Eddie, sexual guilt as per, there’s aftercare. Word Count | 10,400 A/N | Nobody ask me about the timeline of this story, either in the fic or how long it takes me to write it. Taglist Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

The air is stuffy, despite the growing chill outside. The last days of Summer are at least a week gone now, and with Autumn comes heated stores. An ABBA song is playing on the main floor, filtering through enough for you to make out the tune. It’s the sort of thing your Mom plays in the car all the time, your mind following the words even though you can’t quite hear them over the buzzing ceiling lights. 

I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. Slipping through my fingers- 

The curtains pull back, the sound of metal over metal dragging you to full attention. May’s eyes are bright with excitement as she twirls, showing off how the strapless black dress fits around her waist and flares out at her hips. 

“It’s perfect, right?” She says, smoothing it down only to twirl and puff the skirt up again. “Ooh, let me see with the jacket.” 

You search through the bag at your feet for the cropped jacket she’d found earlier, then watch as she pulls it over her shoulders. She fluffs her hair and poses in the mirror at the end of the changing room hallway. “I mean it actually is perfect, right?”

“For sure, you can totally see who you are already.” 

“Right? And then I can just backcomb my hair a little. My Mom’s gonna lend me her scarf. God knows what earrings I’ll wear, but I can work it out. Definitely can’t get anything new after this,” she finishes, turning her head and pulling at the tag on her back to double check the price. She pulls a face before tucking it away gingerly.

“That bad?” 

“That bad. Even with 30% off.” May smooths her hands over the skirt again, turning once more to the mirror. Her smile lights up her pretty face. “But totally worth it.” 

Once the dress is folded and wrapped in tissue paper by the woman at the counter, paid for with what seems like every spare penny in May’s purse, attention moves to your costume. “Okay, Fairy God Mother,” May says, linking her arm with yours. “Game plan. Where do we need to go?”

“I think just the costume store. I have a blue dress I can use. But I’d like some wings and a wand. Maybe a tiara, if I can afford it.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna look so cute. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Tommy’s party?”

“The whole reason I’m dressing up is for Grace,” you reason, spotting the orange banner reading City of Fright, which appears in the same spot every year mid-September and vanishes November first. 

Gone are ABBA’s lilting tones, replaced with stock Halloween music, the occasional creepy laugh and thunder clap. The entire front of the store is complete costumes, wrapped up in plastic and hanging on metal rods, but once you reach the shelves at the back, you are surrounded by an array of vampire teeth, witches hats and face paints. 

“Eddie’s renting Theatre of Blood,” you tell her, not waiting for a reaction before launching into a prepared defence. “It sounds really good. It’s about an actor who takes revenge on his critics by murdering them like Shakespearian deaths - drowning in Malmsey wine, that kind of thing. He picked it cause, you know, he thought I’d like it.” 

“Okay, but she’ll be in bed by what? Eight?” May asks, wandering around the table of paraphernalia as you start thumbing through fairy wings piled next to fake blood bags, searching for the right blue. “You could come after.”

There’s a moment of silence, then she sighs softly. “Okay, I will say it’s kind of cute that he picked that. In a weird, not really that cute cause it’s a horror movie about gruesome murders, sort of way.” 

You stifle a grin, chancing a look at her over the table. “That sounded…almost like a compliment?”

“Almost,” she agrees, walking back round to your side. Then, before you can answer, she has seized a shiny silver plastic tiara and is reaching out to place it gently on your hair. “There. Fit for a Princess.”

You shake your head, laughing. “What about a Fairy Godmother?”

May hums, grabbing a set of the net and wire wings and pulling them over her arms. “I’m the fairy now!” She declares, raising her chin and going up on tiptoes to whirl around the racks, wings shaking behind her. “Here to make all your Halloween costume dreams come true!” 

Your heart warms, a giggle escaping as she peers curiously at the rubber masks and cat ears in character, mumbling about the strange habits of humans. 

“Oh please, fairy godmother! I need a wand if I’m going to look anything like the real thing!” 

“A wand, of course!” She cries dramatically. “No true fairy would be seen dead without their wand.” You watch her scurry on tip toe around until she comes to a display of wands of various colours, topped by stars and hearts, sequined tassels and glittery handles. She wiggles her fingers above them, picks out one with a simple silver star and travels back to you gracefully. You take it from her with a flourish. “There, and now your wings.” She helps you into your own pair, then turns and throws a graceful hand into the air. “Now, we fly!” 

You flit about after her, laughing at her with every pause she takes to frown disapprovingly at fake scars and rubber spiders. She stops in front of a Tinkerbell costume, pointing with a surprised smile at the model on the package. “Hey, I know her!”

You snort a laugh and it sets her off, all attempts to stifle your laughter only making it worse. Your giggles are only beginning to settle when you feel the sudden awareness of being watched tickle the back of your neck. 

“Uh, hi girls.” 

Your heart drops. Caroline stands, a hand over her mouth, barely covering the smirk. “You look like you’re having…fun.”

Suddenly, the clear elastic of the wings is too tight around your shoulders. You can feel the crooked angle of the tiara atop your head, close to slipping off entirely. The wand in your hand isn’t silver now, just chipped paint on plastic. 

Next to you, May is wrenching off her wings, laughing airily. “Just messing around,” she assures, folding them up and holding them with a tight fist at her hip. “You costume shopping?”

Caroline looks around at where you are. “I mean, obviously. Not for me, though, for Ethan,” she sighs. “You know boys, no interest in shopping.” She sets her stare on you, eyes scanning from the crooked tiara downwards. “Are you girls dressing up together?”

Your throat feels blocked, leaving you just to shake your head. May answers for you both. “No, no. Like I said, we’re just messing around. So we should probably put this stuff back.” She slides her wings into the space between some hanging masks before elbowing you into action. You’ve abandoned the tiara and wand and are in the process of sliding off the wings when she adds, coolly, “I’m actually going as Madonna.”

Caroline’s smirk falls, replaced at terrifying speed with a deep frown. “What? You can’t, I’m doing Madonna. I’ve got a veil and everything. Ethan’s going to be Sean Penn.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going as her in Desperately Seeking Susan, so it’ll be, like, totally different.”

“But I don’t think there should be two Madonna’s,” Caroline continues, almost sounding sympathetic. She crosses her arms, shrugging. “You’ll just have to go as somebody else.”

“Oh,” May says, shoulders falling. “Um, right. I get what you mean.”

You’re not in the habit of arguing with Caroline. It’s been easier, historically, not to contradict her or answer back. But you can feel May deflating beside you, and it tumbles out. “But you won’t look similar or anything, they’re completely different costumes.”

“They’re not though.” She answers with finality. “They’re both Madonna, and the last thing we want is comparisons, right? People talking about who wears it better all night?”

May nods. “You’re right. Totally. I’ll think of something else. No worries.”

“But May, your dress! You can’t return it now, it was on sale!” 

“It’s fine,” May snaps before smiling close mouthed at Caroline. “I can find something else to wear, no issue.”

“You could be fairies together!” Caroline says. “I bet the guys at Tommy’s party would love that.”

“No, no, like I said, we were just messing around,” May says. “Not really my thing. And anyway, she’s not coming on Friday.”

“Oh no!” Caroline pushes her bottom lip out into a pout. “But I haven’t seen you outside of school in ages!”

“I’m babysitting,” you explain, clutching your removed wings in your fists. 

“Oh sure you are, not spending the night with your boyfriend. We hardly see you anymore, I feel like there must be so much detail we’ve all been missing out on. You’ll have to come on the next girls trip, right May? So we can hear all about you and…Eddie.”

Your heart pounds as May nods. “Yeah,” she answers. “Eddie can’t have all your time.”

“Perfect. Well, let me know what you end up doing, May! See you later, girls!”

She flounces away, and May hides her face in her hands. “I can’t believe she saw me doing that.” 

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not!” She says, throwing her hands up. Her eyes shine with frustrated tears. “It’s not okay! Not for me, anyway. It’s different for you, people already think you’re weird.” 

You blink at your friend. Then you look down at the speckled linoleum floor, watch the spots fuzz and blend into each other as the lump in your throat builds. Before five seconds have passed, her arms appear at your sides, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”

But you know that she did. You know that’s exactly what she thinks. 

For the moment you have to think about what you say now, you imagine calling her out on this. Pushing her away and telling her that she doesn’t have to spend any more time with you, given you embarrass her so much. You’d buy your fairy wings and your crown, walk out with your head held high. 

Maybe she’d call after you, apologise again, say that losing you isn’t worth impressing Caroline or sitting at the cheerleader table.

But maybe any pain she’d feel at the prospect of your friendship ending would only bring out her anger. Maybe she’d swear to never speak to you again. 

If you were somebody else, someone who didn’t love May, maybe you’d take that risk. But you are you, and you’ve loved May since you were five. To you, the only thing worse than feeling hurt yourself is the thought of hurting her back.

So you shake your head at her shoulder, blink away tears and squeeze her tight in your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling away from her collar that smells the way being seven smelled. You release her, and in turn her arms fall from you. “I get it, you’re just stressed.”

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do about my costume!” 

Your heart pangs. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s trying to rise back up. “Well, at least the dress is black,” you say, sniffing quick and quiet. You drag your hands over your eyes, clearing away the wetness clinging to your bottom lashes. Stop it, you think. Stop crying. “Let’s return the jacket, yeah? Then you’ll have money for a witch hat or something.” 

May nods slowly as she thinks it through. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that works.” She gives you a relieved smile. “God, what would I do without you? Let’s go.”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

“Well, I didn’t think I wanted glasses because Katie has glasses,” Grace explains, holding her plastic pumpkin, now close to overflowing with candy, in both hands at her stomach. She looks at you with a look too knowing for a seven year old, then continues. “Katie is a tattle tale.”

“I see,” you nod. 

“But I want ones like Jessica’s!” She cries, arms extending with the weight of her treasure trove before she pulls it back up. “They go dark in the sun!”

“It’s not the same,” she whines. “And then when we went to the optom- uhm.”

“But you already have sunglasses,” you reason, picturing the little red plastic pair you’ve had to run back for when out on walks many times. Grace hefts the pumpkin again and you give in, lifting the bag from her grasp and burying your wand in with the candy. You soften when she grabs your hand with a deep sigh.

“The optometrist?”

“Yeah, when we went to see him, he said my eyes were perfect!”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No!” She yells, dramatically, pulling on your arm with her whole weight until you have to  heave yourself back up. You stifle a giggle at her distraught expression. “Because now I’ll never get glasses, and everybody has them.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sure not everybody has them,” you say, smiling down at her grumpy face. “And secondly, you shouldn’t just want something like glasses because other people have them, even if it was everybody else. You can’t just live your life just trying to be like everyone around you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. Then, catching your raised eyebrow, “I know!”

You round the corner to her street, and by the time you’re approaching her house, she’s moved comfortably on to the next topic of her candy eating schedule for the next three days. “Because Jessica saves all her Skittles for last,” Grace explains, her position now firmly against being anything like Jessica. “Which is stupid, because you should have the best candy first.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

Grace looks at you with a frown. “Because the best comes first,” she tells you, with the tone of somebody kindly trying to hold in their frustration with an imbecile. 

“Of course, silly of me to ask. Hi, Mrs. Miller!”

Grace’s Mom was clearly waiting for you near the front door, already out and standing on the front steps as you walk up the front path. Grace holds her hands out to take her bucket back, launching forward when she’s got ahold of it. “Mom! Look at all my candy!”

“Whoa! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat all that!” Her Mom says, eyes comically wide. “Think you need someone to help you out, hm?”

Grace shrieks indignantly, running under her Mom’s arm inside and clambering up the stairs out of sight without a bye nor leave for you. 

“Everything went okay?” Her Mom asks, smiling when you give her your usual answer, all fine. “Will you be okay getting home? I can get her back down if you need a ride.”

“Oh, um,” you check either side of the street, feeling suddenly warmed inside at the sight of Eddie’s van parked at the end of the road. Now that you’re concentrating on it, you’re sure you can hear the music blasting behind glass. “No, it’s okay. That’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, Eddie.” She smiles, then smacks her teeth as she, too, registers his music. “Maybe tell him to keep it down next time? I don’t mind but I already get monthly phone calls from Mrs O’Hara about the sound of the lawnmower.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ll do that,” 

“Okay,” she says, calling after you as you start up a fast pace towards Eddie. “You have a good night!”

You pull your cardigan sleeves down over your hands to fight the chill as you move, smiling when you can properly make out Eddie sitting in the front seat. He had a special D&D night planned when he dropped you off at Grace’s earlier. While your costume sat folded in your bag all day, he’d gone to school dressed all in black, even his white Reeboks swapped out for a pair of knockoff doc martens he’d launched himself towards when he caught sight of them at the thrift store. They’d fit him just fine with three pairs of socks.

This morning, sitting in his van, he’d barely managed to control his excited twitches while you lined his eyes with a cheap black pencil from the drugstore. Your work is a little smudged now, but on him, it looks even better than before. Which makes sense, you think. Eddie doesn’t suit neat lines. 

“Hi Princess!” He calls, turning the music down enough that his excitement is just audible through the glass as you approach. 

“Not a Princess,” you remind him as you climb in, turning your back to shake your shoulders and display the blue net wings. “A Fairy God Mother.” You settle back into the seat, shivering away the chill that had gooseflesh rising over your body. Eddie rubs your arm over your cardigan, and you take the opportunity to grab his hand. As much as you want to warm your cold fingers, it’s mainly just to touch him. “How was the game?”

His grin turns sharp as he leans back in his chair, chin tilted up. “So fucking good. I have them right where I want them. I thought for a second Lucas had me worked out. He hesitated when they were getting to the caves, but then he just went along with it. I can’t wait till next week.” He lets go of your hand long enough to start up the van before returning his open palm to the space between you for you to take hold of him again. “How is Princess Grace?”

“Increasingly despotic. She executed like five of her toys before we went out trick or treating.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “What for?” 

“Well, her not-so-wise Fairy God Mother,” you start, gesturing to yourself. “Made the mistake of telling her about royal food tasters? Now there’s a poisoning attempt every few days.” 

“Very active imagination, this girl. Violent, but active.”

“Mm, I think most girls play that way. When I was little- Well, me and May, we’d act like witches sometimes? And make potions out of mud and sticks and stuff. And talk about who we would curse.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And which poor soul had earned this spite, pray tell?” 

“Did you ever have Mr Gilmour?”

“Oh, Gilmour, yeah, I fuckin' hated that guy!” Eddie yells. His eyebrows furrow. “I threw up during gym in seventh grade and the sadistic prick made me finish running a mile.” 

“Yeah, I forgot about that till now.” His brows stay taught for a second longer, then he shakes his head a little, tapping his fingers along your knuckles. “Too bad I didn’t have you around then, coulda cursed him for me a little earlier.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s horrible.”

“I would have,” you promise. “But you were telling me about the game. Did you get Dustin with the, um, venom troll?”

“Not yet. We didn’t get as far as I’d have wanted before they had to go. I mean, what fourteen year old has a curfew? I didn’t, and I turned out alright. But I’ll get him next week. I can’t wait to see his face - that little punk thinks he’s so smart, but he is pre-dictable.”

Eddie continues describing the campaign, the traps he’s set for them that he’s sure they’ll run into, the whole drive to his place, excited and animated as he usually is on the rare occasion you get to see him after Hellfire, wound up from the events of the day. He only slows down when you’re settled on his couch. Sneakers left at the door, wings, tiara, and wand abandoned on the kitchen table, wrapped up in his arms as the opening titles of Theatre of Blood play. 

Eddie’s so warm, and unusually still when you sit with him like this. Being cuddled up to him puts you in mind of your aunt’s black cat. She spends the first couple hours of every visit pretending that she isn’t interested in being anywhere near you. Then, after letting her sniff your hand, rubbing gently between her ears, she darts up on your lap, her soft heat spreading through you. 

Eddie might not admit it, at least not verbally, but he likes being petted the same way. You’ve seen his eyes flutter when you play with his hair, heard the gentle sighs he lets out when you touch his cheek. Now, leaning into his chest, rubbing lazily at his torso, you can feel the way his body relaxes into the couch under your touch. It makes you smile at the TV even as Vincent Price swears revenge on all his critics.

You turn your head just a little, trying to be subtle as much as possible so you can look at him properly. Eddie’s eyes, which in sunlight can be bright as copper, are dark and focused in the electric light of the TV. The light freckles that dotted the tops of his cheeks and nose during Summer have faded from the cloudy days and early sunsets, leaving only his soft pale skin. His lips, as always, are soft looking and pink, still shiny from the last time his tongue peeked out, set in a near constant subtle pout. 

You sigh gently, and in turn breathe in the remnants of smoke and laundry detergent from his shirt, the fading spice of his drugstore aftershave.

“You know I picked this movie out special,” he says, only his eyes moving to fix you with a mockingly suspicious expression. “Vincent’s a master.”

You’re surprised to find you’re not ashamed at having been caught. “M’just looking at you.”

“Therein lies the problem, sweet thing. One minute you’re just looking. Next thing I know my head’s trapped between your thighs.” This time he leans in properly. “Wicked temptress.” He whispers it, his breath warming your face. 

You think he’ll kiss you then, but instead he relaxes back into the couch with a sigh. “M’just lucky you weren’t dressed up all day.” His hand tugs at the hem of your skirt, then spreads out just above your knee. “I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else. It’s a miracle I even got the movie playing instead of trying to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you answer, trying not to sound too eager. 

“I bet,” he says, eyes shining. Then his face turns serious, palm coming to his heart. “But Eddie the Chivalrous would never touch a Princess without properly wooing her first.” His eyes scan over your face quickly. “I guess that means we need to finish the movie.”

He’s teasing you. He wants to push, see how much he can get you to say, if you’ll ask him outright to just touch you the way you want. Warring feelings compete to decide what you do next. Maybe months ago, when you first started dating Eddie, you would have pressed your thighs together and settled in to finish the film. A part of you still calls for that, screams that whatever you say won’t be right. 

You stare at Eddie now. His eyes still lined dark, the smirk he’s trying to hide. Your toes curl just looking at him, and the thought escapes naturally. “You don’t look like Eddie the Chivalrous, right now.” 

Eddie blinks slowly. His head tilts. “No? Who do I look like, then?” 

Now, something like shame creeps back in, and you wish you’d just settled down to watch the movie.

You haven’t ever put a name to it before. In your fantasies, the ones that appear unprompted when you’re alone in your bed and you haven’t been able to touch him in a couple days, Eddie’s always Eddie, but sometimes just a little different. 

Maybe Eddie the Chivalrous is the right name for how you first thought about him like that, calling you Princess as usual but meaning it. You thought about him as your knight and guard, sworn to protect you, breaking all the rules by laying you down and treating you gently, better than any lord or Prince you could be promised to.

Then you’d think about his laugh, the one that comes out when you moan a little loud, or lose your patience and try to direct his hands or his tongue to where you need him. The mocking gasp and teasing tone that often comes along with it, you want it bad, huh, Princess? You think about an Eddie who’s like that all the time, teasingly mean with you, dark and dangerous to everyone else, finding you alone in your soft bed, holding your hands above your head and- and-

People already think you’re weird.

You give in to the sudden hot shame, pressing your face to Eddie’s chest lest he read your expression so perfectly that he works it all out. You whisper into his shirt, more to yourself than him. “I’m so weird.” 

“Well, s’a good thing you’re with me then, mm?” He says, big hand moving to stroke the back of your neck. “Cause if you got a fantasy, like, something you think about when I’m not around. You know I won’t judge you for it, right?” 

“I know.” It comes out muffled against his shirt but it’s certain. It’s instinctual, now. You’re as sure that you don’t need to worry about Eddie judging you as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. More and more, you find yourself talking to him the way you talk to yourself in your head. Easy and free, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this is different. “It’s just- It’s like-” You sigh, searching for the words that won’t come. 

He hums, still rubbing your neck. “Maybe I could- I mean, do you…wanna hear one ‘a mine?” You emerge from your hiding place, leaning back into his hand to gauge how serious he is. Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the sides at having coaxed you into looking at him again. “Yeah?”  

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he echoes. Eddie searches his side for the remote first, pausing Vincent in the middle of another monologue. “Okay. Well, yeah, sometimes I think about- Wait no, gotta set the scene. I’ve just played maybe the best show of my life. Nothing too big,” he continues, giving you a serious look. “I’m not a sell out. We’re talking the smaller arenas, you know? Anyway, after, when I get backstage, feeling like hot shit, there’s this girl. Prettiest I’ve ever seen. And she’s wearing the band’s shirt.”

“And she’s a little shy. Can barely look me in the eye-” He catches you just as your gaze moves to his collar, pulling you back to staring, helpless, into his dark eyes. Eddie takes your hand from where it was playing with the hem of his shirt, weaving your fingers together. “She’s kinda fidgety, too.”

You swallow. “Me?”

“You, sweet thing. S’always you.” You bite the gum behind your bottom lip, holding back from grinning too much. You squirm a little under his gaze, waiting for him to speak again. “And you tell me you’ve been waiting for me,” Eddie says, voice smooth and quiet. “You tell me you’re my biggest fan. And you can’t quite say everything you wanna say, but it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve got you worked out. So I get real close,” he says, his face disappearing as his mouth moves towards your ear, “and I ask if you want me to touch you?”

“And I do,” you continue for him, shivering again at the little groan Eddie lets escape from his throat. 

“Mm hm, real bad.” His eyes reappear, scanning over each part of your face. “So bad you wanna earn it. Wanna show me I was right to pick you and not some other girl. You get on your knees for me.” Eddie licks his lips quick. “And I know you’re kinda inexperienced, but it’s good, the best I’ve ever had. You know why?” You shake your head, gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. You watch his lips move around his words. “Cause you’re so fucking grateful for it.” 

“Mm. And when I decide you’ve earned it, I lay you back on a couch somewhere. A green room or a tour bus or something. And I show you you were right to wait for me.” You shiver. It’s a delicious thrill to picture Eddie that way, completely new to you, a total stranger, yet so sure of what he can take. “And after that?” He says, giving the back of your neck a squeeze. “I keep you.”

“Eddie.” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, wishing he would touch you there now, or even put you on your knees the way he wants so you could show him you’re as grateful for him here and now as you are in his fantasy. 

The fantasy fades when Eddie kisses you. With the press of his lips, the taste of Dr Pepper on his tongue, he’s your Eddie again, familiar and perfect. You’re still floating back to Earth when he pulls away. “Your turn.”

You flinch, crashing to the ground instead. “What?”

“You like Latin, right? It’s quid pro quo, sweetheart. I show you mine, you show me yours. Tit for tat. That was the deal.”

“It was implied.” Eddie answers breezily. Then, with his thumb rubbing gently at the back of your hand. “C’mon. Try? You liked mine, right?” You give a barely noticeable nod, but Eddie catches it. “Yeah. And I bet I’ll like yours.”

“There was no deal!”

“I can’t- I don’t have it all, like, thought out the way you do.”

“Well, I’m a storyteller by trade,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “All my sex fantasies have lore. And we can build on yours, if it needs it.Alright. I’m not Eddie the Chivalrous right now. Who am I?” He tilts his chin to where you have started playing with his rings, twisting each round his fingers in turn. “Apart from Eddie the Stress Toy.”

“It’s not- You’re just-” You swallow, rubbing your thumb over the metal skull sitting where a wedding ring would go. “You’re just somebody…somebody I shouldn’t want.”

“Intriguing. And you are?” Your face flames. You mumble it, barely opening your lips, and Eddie squints. “Mm?”

You sigh. “Princess.”

“Always,” Eddie replies, ducking his head to make sure you see his face, reassuringly still smiling. “Okay. I can work with this. Maybe I'm…Eddie the Banished. I tried to take power for myself by force but I failed.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the thin skin at your wrist. “And I’ve returned, because I realised I don’t need to win a battle. I just have to…take the Princess?”

You clench around nothing. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, sweet thing.” 

Your gaze follows him as he stands. “You want- Right now?”

“Why not? We’re all dressed up. The time is now.” Eddie pauses his excitement when he registers the fact you’re still sitting. “If…if you want.”

“I do,” you breathe. “But I can’t, y’know, talk like you.” You just know Eddie already has some dialogue thought up, things he can say as the character he’s just come up with that will make you dizzy. “I’ll get stuck.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Eddie says, squatting down in front of you, hands spread out on your knees. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Besides, the Princess would be kinda nervous anyway, right? If you’re not supposed to want me. The outlaw, the traitor. You’ve been told about all the terrible things I’ve done, what I tried to do for power. Now you feel guilty about what you really want from me. And I’ve been thinking about you while I’ve been on the run, living rough- You know, this is good stuff,” he says, interrupting himself and looking round. “You got a pen? I should maybe write some of this down- No. After, sorry.” He gives you a sheepish grin, then leans in close. “Don’t think there’s much chance I’ll forget this, anyway.” 

He stands then, hand extended to you with wiggling fingers for you to take and let him guide you through to his room. Eddie hums when his door is closed, shutting out the world beyond the frame. “Shoulda done this at yours,” he says, sitting you down on the mattress. “In your pretty Princess bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, meaning it entirely. All that matters is it’s him. He’s the only person you could do something like this with. 

“Okay, I need a little more. You shouldn’t want me, I’m…morally grey, let’s say. Chaotic neutral. Am I mean?”

“Kinda,” you answer. “You’re…selfish?”

“Selfish,” he repeats. 

“Just like, y’know. It’s like-” Eddie’s hands spread at the sides of your thighs, teasing the skin at the hem of your skirt. You want them everywhere. “You know I want you. That I’ll…do things for you. And you take advantage. ”

There’s a pause. “I think I’m following. Things somebody like you shouldn’t do?” You nod quickly, cheeks burning as you watch him work it out. “You wanna get your mouth on me, Princess?”

You fight the instinct to hide, the urge to look away, the voice telling you to deny everything, take it back. Instead, you start playing with the hem of his shirt again, soft cotton between your fingers.  

“Mm hm.”

“Shit. Okay. Anything-” His voice cracks a touch, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “Anything else?”

“It’s not like- Even though you’re mean, you still- With me, you feel-” Now you do have to look away, staring at where your fingers are fiddling with the black fabric. He can read you too well, and you don’t want him to see exactly what you want from him. “You-”

You love me. 

“I feel…how I feel about you?” He suggests.

You bite the gum behind your lip to stop yourself asking exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hard to pretend anything else.” Eddie leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, long enough that your whole body relaxes into it, your mind settling on Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. When he pulls away, it’s easy to answer his question. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie stands to full height, his shoulders back. He tilts his head, expression shifting. From your Eddie, with chestnut eyes and his perfect, dimpled smile, to a smirking man with a dark gaze excited to ruin you. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he says, voice smooth and confident. A thrilled shiver runs up your spine. “Knew I’d find you eventually, but I could only hope I’d find you like this. All alone.” He takes a step towards you. “Unprotected-”

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

Softness peaks through with raised eyebrows. “Good?” You nod quickly, and it disappears again as he slinks closer towards you. “I missed you, while I was away,” he tells you, soft and teasing. “Did you miss me?”

“I-” You swallow. You’re used to repeating back what Eddie says to you, in times like this, letting him guide you through everything he wants to hear from you. But you don’t want to just watch him do this for you. “No.”

Eddie blinks, surprised, then he puts on a mockingly hurt face, hand over his heart. “No? You wound me, Princess.” That same hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently under your eye and you can’t help but lean into him. “Or you would, if I believed you.” He tilts your head up to see him properly, standing over you. “You think I didn’t see the way you’d look at me, before I left?”

Your fingers twitch to reach out and brush at the ends of his hair as it falls towards you, but you keep them at your sides on the bed, curling into the sheets. “You didn’t leave, you-”

“Left, banished, driven out; it all comes to the same end, mm?” His eyes scan your face, down your dress and back up. “That’s you and me, Princess. Here, alone together. You gonna pretend you never wanted that?”

His thumb, callused and warm, keeps rubbing over your cheek. “I can’t want it”

“No, you can,” he presses. Eddie, your Eddie, would sit with you now, squat in front of you to talk to you at the same level. Now, his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you that he could stop you looking away if you tried. “Cause I’ve had time to think about it.”

“While you were hiding in the woods?”

“While I was regrouping,” he corrects. “I realised something. I went about it all wrong.” he tells you. “It was foolish of me to try and use force to get what I want. Not when you were right here. Waiting for me.”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, then presses inside to the tip of your tongue. 

“If I make you mine, everything else follows. That’s right, isn’t it?” He nods slowly until you copy him. “The throne, power, vengeance on everyone who tried to hold me back. And you, in my bed every night. All day if I wanted.” He pulls at your lip again as he steals his thumb back, leaning in until his breath is warm against your cheeks. “That sounds nice. Doesn't it, Princess?” You glance at his lips, wanting him to kiss you now, to take it from you. Eddie shakes his head, drawing your gaze back to his. “I wanna hear you say it. You wanted me to touch you, just like this, and more, didn’t you? Wanted me to show you how to make me happy?”

You can feel your heartbeat heavy in your chest, your breath coming quicker. Only Eddie could do this, have you convinced of a story which before tonight only existed half formed in the fantasies of your bedroom. You can feel the internal conflict as if it really is your duty to say no, and your heart’s only desire to give your next answer.

“Yes, Eddie.”

He gives you a kiss that’s half teeth, dragging at your bottom lip. Even this is different. You’re used to the gentle start, feeling him smile on your mouth. He breathes deep through his nose, pulls from you so suddenly that you make to follow him until he presses a hand to your shoulder. 

“And I will. Get on the floor.” Eddie steps back, and it doesn’t even occur to argue with him now. You slide off the mattress easily, knees falling to the carpet without looking away from him. There’s a pause. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want an invisible audience to hear. “You comfy? You want the pillow?” 

“No,” you answer, heart aching. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay.”

You watch the way he steels his face again, looking at you on your knees in front of him like that’s where you’re meant to be. His hands work at his belt, a soft hiss escaping when he presses his palm down the front of his pants. His head tilts back, displaying his thick neck, the rising pinkness across his pale throat, and he breathes a laugh. “Now, Princess- Wait!” You jump at the suddenness of Eddie pulling his hand from his pants only to clasp them at his waist as he half-jogs towards the door. “Just a second. Don’t move!” 

Eddie disappears through the door, mumbling to himself. His words are faint but it’s clear enough that he is looking for something. You close your eyes, focusing on his voice, however fuzzy. You never thought you could have something like this. Someone like Eddie. Someone safe. So safe that you can abandon yourself to fulfilling a silly fantasy thought up under the covers of your bed. 

Something catches your hair and you open your eyes to find him standing over you again. The tip of his tongue curls over his top lip as he places the plastic silver tiara just so on your head. When it’s as he wants it, his teeth show with his smile. “Perfect,” he says, pressing two fingers to your chin and turning your head each way. “My Princess, mm? I’m going to show you what it is to be mine.”

Eddie reaches into his pants to pull himself free. His hand drags over the shaft, quick and dirty, just for a moment’s relief if the clench of his jaw the second he stops is any indicator. 

You think you know what to do now, tipping your chin, opening your mouth, ready to take him. Only he angles his head away from your tongue. You peer up at him in confusion, watch the way his excitement plays out on his face. “C’mere, Princess.” 

Cupping your cheek with his spare hand, he guides you to the base of his cock, where he is softest. Your lips graze the fuzzy skin of his balls and Eddie makes a noise that has you squirming for the lightest touch between your legs. You kiss delicately, blinking up at him, watching his thumb rub over the head of his cock, catching wetness to ease the slow movement of his hand. He taps his fingers on your cheek gently. “Open up. Want your tongue.”

Your toes curl. You want to taste him here, aching at the smell of him; like his neck at the end of the day in Summer, his sweat and musk, fading body wash. You want to make Eddie feel good so badly, you think you might do whatever he asks as long as he looks at you the way he is now. 

You reach for him, palm settling on his knee where denim meets exposed skin. Opening your mouth, you lick quickly at the seam of his balls, taste salt on soft skin. He groans, fingers flexing around your jaw. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Fuck yes,” Eddie bites out when you lick broad and wet up to the base of his cock, thinking of his wide tongue drawing upwards from your pussy to your clit. “Fuck, yes.” 

He draws you back, smiling down at you. It makes your face burn, but you struggle between looking him in the eyes and staring at his cock. His balls are pink and wet from your attention, his hand moves steadily over his length, drawing folds of skin over his thick head and back.

“Want you to suck on them a little,” he tells you. The pause he leaves gives a moment for you to squeeze at his knee, as if presenting your open mouth wouldn’t be enough to show your agreement. He drags the weight of his balls over your chin to your wet tongue, listing off curses when your lips close just enough to suck gently. Eddie’s hand moves faster over his length, the curve of his fingers brushing your forehead with each tug.

Eddie’s groans are all that matter now. His sack is heavy, falling past your lips the wider you open your mouth. “So fuckin’ full cause of you,” Eddie bites. You hum, closing your eyes, his hips stutter. First towards the warmth of your mouth and then away entirely, replacing his sack with the head of his cock tapping against your tongue.

Eddie gasps when you lap at his leaking tip. “Can I-” He pauses, rephrases, puts on the right tone. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess.” 

He watches you carefully, gives you time to tell him no. You squeeze his knee once more, gaze moving from his dark eyes to his cock. You press a quick kiss to the swollen head, a darker pink than the rest of him where it peeks through folds of skin, then let him press your head back against the mattress. 

Eddie’s cock glides smoothly over your tongue to the top of your throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “M’starting to think this is what you wanted the whole time.” He eases further, just past the entrance of your throat. It’s easier, like this. You are more open to him with your head tilted back this way. He holds himself in the warmth of your mouth, watching you blinking back tears to try and keep him clear in your gaze. Finally your throat protests, and Eddie draws back till you can suck at his head, the exposed length of his cock shining with your spit. You gaze at him, wanting him to be proud of you for taking him deeper than you have before. He makes a soft encouraging noise, but Eddie like this won’t give you the validation you want so easily. “Teased me for so long. I think I deserve to take what I want, now.”

Eddie thrusts slowly at first, easing you in despite his words. The hand that was on your cheek now stroking at your heated forehead. 

You like it like this. 

You liked having him in your mouth the first time, and every time after that. Like watching him shake, hearing him groan and whine, and knowing that you’re the one making him like that. You like focusing on him; lick here, nip there, let him feel you moan around him. Now, you don’t even have to think about how best to please him. You can focus on your breathing, taking air in through your nose when he pulls back enough. And on Eddie and how he looks as he takes his pleasure from you. 

Eddie’s so beautiful. His dark hair frizzes around his face, eyes crinkling at the sides when he closes them and groans into the air. His neck is pink, a pretty blush crawling up to his cheeks as his thrusts speed up. “We’re gonna do this all the time, Princess, you hear me?” He grits, fingers curling into the sheets at the side of your head. You moan in answer, pleased when it makes his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip dipping deep enough past the entrance of your throat that you can’t blink away the wetness that springs to your eyes. “You’re gonna be in my bed all the time, maybe I’ll tie you up, mm?” He presses deep again, then holds steady. When the tears collected at the corners of your eyes start to fall, he wipes them away before they can reach the apples of your cheeks. “Keep you here, just for me. Don’t need to see or talk to anyone else ever again.”

If your head weren’t fuzzy, you’d start questioning why that makes you ache. Eddie withdraws his cock from the top of your throat and you only take a second to gasp in the air you need before following him, reaching up to touch the inches of his cock your mouth still can’t quite cover. Eddie laughs through a moan at the feeling of you jerking his cock into your mouth, licking wet at the end of him. “You want that, huh? Hey-” He drags you away from his cock, leaving you with wet, pleading eyes looking up at him. “You want that?” Your mouth opens, then closes. Your hips roll, seeking friction you can’t get while kneeling like this. Eddie’s eyes flick down, lips turning up at the sight. “Get on the bed for me, mm?”

Eddie reaches a hand out to help you sit up on his mattress. Then he pulls his shirt off over the back of his head, exposing all the soft pale skin and dark ink of his torso. You pull your dress up too, knocking your tiara in the process. When the dress is off entirely, Eddie’s there in an instant to fix it for you, his fingers caressing your cheek when he’s done. “Hey, uh. Am I doing alright? Is this the sort of thing you imagined?”

“This is better,” you tell him earnestly, loving how pleased he looks. You’re learning that this, the pleasure gained from praise, is something you and Eddie share. You love it when Eddie calls you good, or smart, or sweet. When he tells you that you’re good at something he’s teaching you. In turn, Eddie likes it when you tell him how good he makes you feel, that he’s doing everything right, that he’s looking after you exactly how you want it. 

He kisses you, and it’s softer this time until he bites gently at your bottom lip as he’s pulling away. “C’mon and lie down, Princess,” he says, guiding you to lay down. You press your legs together, knees bent and feet flat to the mattress as Eddie climbs up after you. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, making you giggle softly as he passes ticklish spots. It relaxes you enough to let him guide your legs open and back, allowing him closer. Eddie tilts his head, thumbing the little blue bow at the waistband of your panties. “You really want me to tie you up?” 

Without thinking, you glance quickly at the handcuffs hanging from his door. You feel the beat of your heart against your chest, wondering if you’re ready for that, knowing really that you’re not. Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to him. He kisses your knee. “Not tonight, Princess.” He leans in, whispers. “And only ever if you really want, okay?”

“I know, Eddie,” you answer. And you do. You know that as much as Eddie is teaching you, seemingly leading you along to each new experience, in truth he’s making sure you set the pace. 

“Take this off for me,” he says, pulling at the strap of your bra. You reach underneath your back to unhook it, shimmying it off your arms and letting it drop to his floor. Once you’re settled, he takes both your hands in his, pulling them up over your head. You can’t help but giggle, feeling both nervous and giddy. “Hold onto the headboard?” You follow the instruction, wrapping your fingers around one of the wooden slats. Stretched like this, chest presented to him, you feel open and exposed, your nipples tightening from the cold air and from Eddie’s attention. “Don’t let go, mm?”

He leans down, kissing from the base of your neck down the skin between your breasts, his hair dragging behind him, tickling the sensitive skin. He leaves a wet mark on the curve of your left breast, the sting of his teeth quickly soothed by his tongue. When he takes the tight bud of your nipple between his lips, your whole body tenses. It’s a test of your submission, if you can last with only your memory of what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair. If you can bear not to tug at it when he flicks his tongue like that. 

Your hands tighten around the wood, hips tilting to find his cock where he tucked it back in his boxers, still hard and throbbing between your legs. The friction, however light, against where you have been waiting for him all evening, is too good to give up, and you keep searching for his hardness to rub against. 

Eddie releases your breasts with a grin. “You want it bad, huh, Princess?”

You whine, melting when he presses his hips forward to give you more delicious friction along your pussy. He huffs a laugh, sitting up and quickly reaching out for the pack of Trojans on his bedside. You watch him kneel between your legs, the way he fists his cock while he tears at the foil square with his teeth, his desperation to roll the condom over his length. Eddie shuffles forward on his knees and presses his wide hands to the back of your thighs. He gently guides your legs back, hitching your hips up for better access to your pussy, wet and swollen under his gaze.

“Wanted this for so long, Princess,” he says. “You’ve been waiting too, hmm?”

“Yes, Eddie. Been waiting so long.” You nearly cry from relief when his cock latches at your entrance, then from despair when he stills instead of filling you. The headboard creaks from your squirming. “Please,” you whisper, sounding pathetic in a way that would embarrass you if you weren’t aching from the emptiness.

Eddie stretches you perfectly as he presses inside your slick cunt. The tease of pain feels good now that your body recognises what it means, where Eddie filling you up leads. “Good?” He asks, once he’s deep enough inside that the curls of hair above his cock are teasing your clit. 

You mean to answer properly, but the intention is overtaken by the need for him to move. Waiting for him, your fingers tighten around the wood so much you swear there will be marks from your nails. “Eddie.” It comes out whinier than you intended, but he certainly doesn’t mind. 

“Eddie,” he mimics breathily, his teeth showing as the heat of pleasant humiliation crawls up your spine. He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, snapping his hips to draw back and press deep again through your clenching cunt.

You’ve been under him every time, but like this you feel helpless. Hands voluntarily useless, body tilted up and legs opened by his hands, your body presented to him and positioned perfectly for him to set the pace. It feels right for this - you know now what the romance novels you hide under your bed mean when the heroine is taken. 

Your toes curl when Eddie’s hips roll just right, the heavy head of his cock hitting the end of you. When he reaches between you to press a thumb to your clit and rub in tight circles, your body tilts, hips trying to chase the pleasure, only for Eddie to press you back down to where he wants you.

“I like it,” you answer. “I like it, Eddie.”

“You like it, like this, hm?” Eddie asks. You blink at him slowly, wondering if it’s your boyfriend or Eddie the Banished asking. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, hair shaking. “Knew you would. Pretty Princess just needed to be fucked right, mm?” You shudder, tightening around his cock enough that he gasps, “fuckfuckfuck. S’good. It’s so good, honey.”

You breathe a laugh. “Princess, to you.”

“My apologies,” he says, snapping his hips to land heavy against the spot at the back of your pussy. You gasp, legs kicking out against his grip involuntarily only for him to tighten his grip and push them back to where he wants them. You can hear how wet you are, the sound of him moving inside you as loud as the bed springs, as loud as your moans. “Mine now, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You nod easily. “Yes.”

“Gonna give me everything I want from now on, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Yes-”

“Made it so easy for me. Should have just done this in the beginning, just taken you for myself.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tilting back as his hips speed up. “Fuck, I can’t- Can’t get enough of that.” When he looks back to you, the detached, mocking look is gone. He’s all intensity and warmth, your Eddie again. Your whole body tightens. “Tells me everything I need to know when you say my name like that.” He gives you a mean thrust, tongue peeking out as he watches where you’re connected, the slick coating his cock, before his gaze returns to your pleasured, sweaty face. “You’re so fucking good, you know that? So fucking good, the way you talk to me. Telling me what you want. Not gonna hide anything like that from me again, are you?”

“Nuh,” you manage, legs twitching. “Eddie.” 

”Again,” he gasps. “Please. My sweet girl-”

“Eddie. Eddie-”

Maybe you keep chanting his name, maybe you cry it out, maybe you stop altogether to scream out instead. You don’t know. You just know he’s all you’re thinking of as the pleasure crests, spreading out from the back of your cunt through your body until it’s intense enough you think you might cry. Then it fades to the gentle delight of Eddie still moving inside you, the warmth and weight of his cock when he buries himself deep. You hear him groan, feel the potential for bruises blooming where his fingers dig into your thighs. Then it’s his weight easing down on top of you, the ache in your shoulders and your legs as you let them relax before wrapping yourself around him.

You finally get your hands in his hair. The roots are damp from sweat, his curls tangled in knots. Eddie’s face is pressed so fully to the space between your breasts that you’re not convinced he can be breathing. He mumbles something that’s lost to your ears, then tilts his head up till you can see his face, and his goofy smile. Your heart aches even as you giggle. Then he’s crawling up your body to kiss you, his mouth warm and tasting like the sweat from his upper lip. 

“I’m gonna pull out now but I want it known that it’ll take amazing strength of will on my part.” 

He does so, disappearing from the bed for less than five seconds to throw out the condom before flopping next to you again and opening his arms to let you clamber into his hold again, you try to fight the rising worries by pressing your face into his neck. He hisses at the scrape of the plastic tiara under his chin, taking it off himself before returning to stroke at your temple with his fingers.  “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

It takes you a minute to answer, sorting through all the complicated feelings that emerged the second Eddie wasn’t inside you anymore. “Good,” you murmur. Then, “weird.” 

You hate how fast it all happens so soon after something so special. You feel overwhelmed and tired, like you want to scrub yourself raw under hot water, like you want to curl up in Eddie’s arms and smell like him forever. You feel like you don’t want to ever be touched again, but the thought that Eddie won’t makes your heart sore. You wish you were normal. You wish you didn’t have weird fantasies. You wish you didn’t feel guilty about what you want. 

Eddie holds you tight against him, and you let yourself feel the comfort of that. Eddie doesn’t think you’re weird, or gross, or immoral. Eddie won’t ever leave you alone to cry and scratch at your crawling skin. 

He presses his lips to your forehead, mumbles against your skin. “Gonna let me look after you?”

He keeps you with him while he runs a bath. You’re wrapped in a towel while he runs around naked, giving you mock coquettish looks over his shoulder every now and then until he gets a giggle from you. As steam starts to rise from the tub, he searches through the cabinet under the sink before emerging with a bottle filled with suspiciously bright orange liquid. “We don’t have bubble bath but, uh, this is six-in-one.” 

You try sitting in the water together, wrapped up in him, but the pins and needles come too fast, eight limbs not quite fitting as they should. You end up facing him, legs tucked up to your chest, watching the water drip from dark ends of his hair. 

“Not as romantic as I’d hoped,” he says.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you.”

His dimples show. Sweetest boy on Earth. He splashes at you a little, waiting for you to smile before talking. “Feeling better?” 

“Much,” you answer honestly. Somewhere between giggling at Eddie rushing to his bedroom to fetch towels for you both, a hair tie for you, with his hands covering the crack of his ass while leaving his dick uncovered and him quietly insisting on taking the side of the tub with the tap at his back, the grey cloud hanging over you faded. “Cause of you,” you say, splashing him back. 

Eddie smiles, resting his face against his knee. “Is there anything I can do, you know, to make it better, like, before it happens?” He reaches for your hand in the water. “Cause it hasn’t, in a while. I know that this was, like, different, but if I did something-”

“No,” you interrupt. “It wasn’t you.” Eddie lets that sit for a while, waiting for you to continue. “When it’s just me and you, it’s like-” You swallow. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being really, actually myself for the first time in my whole life.” Eddie’s eyes are so soft, looking at you now. “And I know that you won’t ever judge me for…my fantasies, or whatever. But then it’s like, it’s almost like- Like without even wanting to, I imagine what other people would say, if they knew the stuff I told you. If they saw how I am, when it’s just us. And then I just feel like, even though they’re not there, it’s ruined it.”

Eddie squeezes your hand, sighs with his whole body. “That sounds exhausting.”

Tears prick in your eyes even as you laugh without real mirth. “It is.”

“Well, you know this stuff really is always going to be just me and you. Right?” 

“I know, Eddie.”

“I wish I could fix it for you, sweet thing.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to force back the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking, me too. Instead, you sigh, remind yourself that however hard it is now, you’re sure it used to be worse. Before you had Eddie and his humour, his touch, his kindness. “You make it better, Eddie. I promise.”

He’s perfectly gentle with you the rest of the evening, curling back up with you on the couch when you’re dry to restart Theatre of Blood. You let yourself sink into his chest, playing with his rings. You are just about engrossed in the story again, watching with sick fascination as the first critic is stabbed like Julius Caesar. Then, a thought suddenly occurs.

“Did…did you say the soap was six-in-one?”

“Sure did,” Eddie answers. “Face, body, hair, laundry, pets and dishes.”

“That’s why it smells like the terrier next door.”

Eddie hums, lifts your hand to his face and sniffs. “You mean that’s why we smell like the terrier next door.”

[thethickerside]

Twitter Fingers.

Warning: lots of TENSION. Dirty talk. Shuri has no filter. Very timid, but nasty main character. Mention of pornography. Smut. Strap on sex. StrapxShuri.

Gently spell checked, there may be spelling or grammar errors.

——————-

She found herself clenching her legs and covering her mouth as the vibration of her favorite toy shocked her entire being. She moaned into her hand while looking over at her phone that was propped up. The lewd video lit up a small area in her dark room, the light reflecting back on her pleasure filled face.

But…the video wasn’t necessarily what she was thinking about. Of course, it’s right in her face, so she obviously could not hide her arousal towards it, but the thing that truly set her on fire was the caption.

She had been following a Twitter account that included all things lesbian. For the past few weeks she had been using her light pink rose to reach an orgasm; a direct result of her constantly viewing the Twitter page.

She could feel her orgasm creeping up on her as she moaned into a nearby pillow. As she went on, she couldn’t help thinking about whoever was behind this account fucking her. “I’m cumming…” she whimpered into her pillowed as she orgasmed.

While coming down, she laid there for about a minute before picking her phone up and scrolling to the top of the Twitter page. She felt embarrassed by the fact that she had came to Twitter porn, but she couldn’t stop her self from clicking the inbox button.

Before she could even think, she started to type up a message that conveyed her feelings.

“I’m new to Twitter, and I came across your page…and I just wanted to tell you that everything you’ve posted has effected me…I feel embarrassed that I’m even dm’ing you…”

She felt like she was going insane when she pressed the send button. She immediately regretted her decision and slammed the phone down on her bed. “I can’t believe I fucking did that…” She laid there in silence for some time before her phone buzzed.

Once she flipped it over, she was very surprised by the notification.

“Embarrassed..? Why is that?”

They fucking replied.

“They fucking replied…” She said as she stared at the notification on her phone. She gulped as the heat that was once at her core traveled to her face.

“I don’t mean any harm…but it’s just find it so morally wrong…it’s so sexual and graphic…”

She sent out that message, and it took a little bit longer for the reply to come in. “…was I being rude..?” She asked herself.

What she didn’t know is that the woman on the other end was laughing.

“I promise you, my page is just a small fraction of how sexual and graphic my mind is.”

“There’s more..?”

“So much more.”

“Can you show me..?”

She timid female stared at her screen for a couple of seconds, awaiting a response. She bit her bottom lip and sighed to herself. “Fuck…that was so stupid.”

“Call me.”

She gasped when she saw that message. She do don’t even know this person and she was already going to call them.

The line rung a couple of times before a simple “Hello?” was said.

“I didn’t expect you to sound like that.” The woman on the other side of the phone had a very relaxing voice.

“I didn’t know you were gonna sound the way you sound either. Where are you from..?” She asks.

“None of your concern. What’s your name?” The woman was firm.

“Athena.”

“…Athena…beautiful.” The woman said. Athena smiled behind her phone and chuckled lightly to herself.

“What’s your name?” Athena asks.

“…” The woman fell silent at this question. “Just call me Ri.”

Ri. As in short for Shuri. The queen of Wakanda couldn’t reveal her identity to a complete stranger online…just yet.

“…This may be a weird thing to ask…but can I see your face..?” Athena asked. She was prepared to be in the face of immediate rejection upon her request, but instead she was met with “Do you have Skype?”

“Yes! My username is Athenarooz”

After about 30 seconds, Athena was met with a call request.

She quickly sat up and looked in the mirror next to her bed before setting her phone up against a pillow. Her full face was in frame, with a tiny bit of her dark headboard showing.

Once she answered, she was met with the woman behind the account. Shuri didn’t show her whole entire face. The only part of her body that was in frame was the lower half. Athena couldn’t see her eyes or her nose. She didn’t mind though.

“Hi…” Athena gently said. Her heart shaped hair was slightly messy, and she had on simple pajamas.

Shuri thought she was adorable. She had cat like eyes, full cheeks, and a gold dainty necklace on.

Shuri smiled upon hearing her voice. Athena could see a flash of gold shine across Shuri’s bottom teeth once she smiled. “Hi.” Shuri simply said.

“So…um, I like your grills. They look really good.” Athena smiles warmly as she gazed at the other woman.

“Why thank you. I greatly appreciate it.” Shuri smirked at the compliment. “I like your pink lights…you look very pretty under them.” Athena felt her heart skip a beat before giggling to herself.

“Oh…thank you!” Athena said.

“Are they always that color, sithandwa?”

Athena could feel her pussy start to pulsate from the foreign term. “Well— no! They actually change colors.” Athena said while looking down at her sleeves.

“When do you change them?” Shuri asked.

Shuri didn’t want to make the girl feel rushed, but she knew there was a reason why she DM’d her.

“…you know…during certain times.” Athena felt so small under Shuri’s gaze, en thought she couldn’t even see her eyes.

“Like when you’re scrolling down my page…?” Shuri asked before leaning back in her seat. “Well…yes. Your page just…it makes me feel—“

“Aroused.” Shuri finished that sentence for her.

“What part makes you feel that way?” Shuri asked. At this point, Shuri was very intrigued with this girl’s sexual behavior.

“To be honest…it’s not the videos. O-of course, the girls help a lot!! But…it’s just the way you write your captions…they’re so sensual…” Athena says. She can’t help but to breathe a bit heavier while glancing at Shuri.

Shuri had never met a person who liked captions on Twitter porn more than the actual video.

“Athena?” Shuri calls out her name.

“Y-yes?” Athena’s eyes light up slightly at the mention of her name.

“What makes you climax?”

Athena felt like a waterfall had ripped through her core once she heard that question. She didn’t know how to answer that.

“…I honestly don’t know how to explain it…c-can I show you..?”

“Go ahead…” Shuri said. She watched Athena closely, waiting for any sign of sexual action.

“Um, okay! Give me one second.” Athena grabbed her ipad from her nightstand and quickly went to Shuri’s account. She scrolled for a bit before she recognized a video that repeatedly got her off.

“There’s this one video that I’ve watched a couple of times…” Athena showed the video to Shuri, turning her iPad to face her camera, letting Shuri watch.

“Hmm, it’s from my page.” Shuri said with a slight smirk.

“Yeah…how did you find this video..?” Athena asked.

“Quite honestly, I truly just browse. I get aroused quite often and when I do, I find more videos to put on my Twitter.” Shuri said.

“Have you ever done any of the things in the videos..?” Athena asked. She could feel her heart beating out of her chest at the thought of the other woman doing those things to her.

“…” Shuri was silent, once again. “Yes…why do you ask?”

Athena knew that what she was about to ask could go completely right, or terribly wrong.

“Do you see yourself doing those things to me..?”

Shuri paused at this. She could 100 percent see herself giving Athena immense pleasure, but she had to be careful because of who she is.

“Absolutely…but, I’m not in a position to do so.” Shuri replied.

“Why is that?” Athena asked.

“I’m not just a regular person…”

This statement struck fear into Athena.

“…w-who are you..?” Athena asked.

“If I tell you…it will change the trajectory of your entire life.” Shuri said. Her voice was laced with caution, not wanting Athena to make such a big decision.

“I don’t mind.” Athena said.

Shuri had to contemplate for a moment. She knew this will affect the both of them…but she was so fucking horny. She couldn’t make any rational decisions at the moment.

Shuri takes her computer screen and angles it upward, showing her full face to Athena. Upon seeing her, Athena tilted her head.

“…” Athena simply just gazed at her. The initial shock was there, but after a couple of seconds she just…shrugged.

“Shuri…queen of Wakanda…but, I don’t see how this matters…” Athena says with a slight giggle.

Shuri’s eyes widened at Athena’s claim. “You don’t think it matters??” Shuri questioned, feeling baffled by the other woman.

“We’re both horny…and honestly…I don’t really care about who you are.” Athena says before biting the inside of her lip.

Shuri’s body seemed to relax once that was said. “Bast…I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you…” she chuckles.

As time went on, Athena’s desire coursed through her body.

“Shuri…do you wanna fuck me?” Athena asked with a tiny smirk.

Shuri smirked and shook her head, chuckling to herself in disbelief. “I’ll be at your place in 15 minutes.” She said beofre the call ended.

Athena stared at the screen for a couple of seconds before running to the shower. She quickly freshened up before getting dressed.

Her pink baby tee complimented her pink spandex shorts. Her hair was in a claw clip, that also being pink. She had on some white fluffy slides, with her toes being painted a light pink color. She looked at herself in the mirror, contemplating whether or not she was underdressed.

“Hmm…” she looked at the clock next to her mirror and smiled lightly. “It’s 2am…who cares.” She reassured herself.

She grabbed her phone and went downstairs. Athena lived in-front of a large field, where she would go for jogs, or simply just journal at. She looked outside and saw a small aircraft parked in the field.

She couldn’t hear it land, so she suspected that it had to be Shuri.

The doorbell rang, and Athena could feel her heart go insane. She took a deep breath before walking over to the door and opening it, being met with Shuri looking at her through some Prada sunglasses.

“Hi.” Athena said. She quickly scanned Shuri’s figure, and saw that she was dressed casually as well. She had on some black sweatpants, and a black t-shirt.

“Hi.” Shuri said, smirking lightly at the girl. She’s adorable… Shuri thought to herself. She put her hand out, offering it to Athena.

Athena softly took her hand, and walked with her back to the aircraft. “I hope you don’t think I’m creepy or anything…I promise you I’m not going to hurt you.” Shuri said once they stepped inside. Athena smiled timidly and nodded, looking up at the other woman.

“No…oddly enough I didn’t think that…” Athena said with a slight chuckle.

Shuri stared softly at the other woman, taking off her sunglasses. She slowly walked to Athena, running her thumb across Athena’s bottom lip.

“You’re so pretty…intombi entle.” Shuri said. Athena could feel a her nipples immediately harden from the foreign language, and Shuri could see them.

She glanced down at Athena’s chest, seeing them press up against her cute pink shirt. “Are you excited?” Shuri asks, slipping her thumb in Athena’s mouth. Athena looked up at Shuri and nodded, her eyes being filled with desire.

“I can tell…” Shuri trailed off as she lifted up the other woman’s shirt, letting her full breast become exposed. Shuri let go of Athena, taking a seat in the aircraft. “Let me see you…” She leaned back in her chair, before sliding her own shirt off, having nothing but her gold panther necklace on. “Show me…” Shuri demanded softly.

Athena stood infront of Shuri and took her shirt off, and then her shorts. “You don’t have anything on under that…” Shuri said to her. She smirked at Athena before calling her over with just a hand gesture. Shuri spread her legs and let Athena straddle her.

Athena’s nude body was pressed up against Shuri, as she could feel her underwear become soaked. Shuri could feel Athena’s desire, all thanks to her heightened senses.

“I just want you to know…this is just sex.” Shuri said while gazing into Athena’s eyes.

Athena giggled while leaning into Shuri. She could feel the other woman’s hands travel to her backside, squeezing it firmly. “You did have to say that…you could’ve just fucked me.” Athens says.

What Shuri and Athena didn’t know is that their relationship was not going to just be sex.

Shuri immediately captured Athena’s lips in a passionate kiss. The kiss was hot, passionate, and sloppy. The two woman were incredibly aroused, and they didn’t hold anything back.

“Fuck…” Shuri pulled away from the kiss and hissed as she continued to grope and smack the other woman’s ass. “I didn’t know you had all this…” Shuri chuckled before kissing along Athena’s jawline. “Oh please…it’s nothing.” Athena dismisses her remark, biting her lip from Shuri’s touch.

Shuri’s kisses halted. She looked up at Athena, her gold grill showing from the low exposure lighting in the aircraft. She raised her eyebrow, smirking lightly.

“It’s nothing???”

————————————

“Holy shit!!” Athena moaned out. By this time, Shuri had bent Athena over. Her fingers were digging into Athena’s hips as she snapped her hips into a thrust. The black and silver strap glistened in the light as she continued to fuck Athena.

“Let me tell you…It’s not nothing. Your ass looks so good from back here..” Shuri said before throwing her head back, hissing and moaning at the feeling of Athena squeezing her. “I can feel you usana. I can feel you squeezing the shit out of me. You like this?” Shuri moaned out. Athena couldn’t answer. She was too busy shoving her face into the bed that was located at the back of the air craft. “S-so good…” Athena whimpered out.

Shuri couldn’t believe the words that were coming out her mouth. All of her lewd thoughts that she would hide just came spilling out. It was almost like Athena’s body drew them out of her. She was hooked.

“Shit Athena!” Shuri said before pulling her strap out quickly and grabbing her phone. “I want to record you…I wanna watch this back over and over again…will you let me..?” Shuri asked while kissing down her back.

Athena looked back at Shuri with a euphoric expression. “Do it…” Athena answered. Before she could turn back around, Shuri had started to record, the flash from the phone highlighting the pleasurable experience.

Shuri inserted her fingers, pumping them slowly, while her thumb rubbed the other woman’s clit. “S-Shuri—“ Athena moaned while her legs began to shake.

“You close..?” Shuri asked while looking directly at Athena. “Y-yes…” Athena whimpered while making eye contact with her. “What are you gonna do..? Hmm?” Shuri asks, her pace speeding up. “I-I’m gonna cum..” Athena whispered. “Let me see it…” Shuri said with a slight smirk. Athena came undone on Shuri’s fingers. She couldn’t even let out a moan, the feeling was so euphoric.

“O-oh my fucking god!!” Athena whimpered out. “That was beautiful Athena…” Shuri said before putting her phone away, feeling incredibly aroused still. Shuri gently laid Athena down on the bed, grabbing her chin, and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’m gonna make you cum again…okay??” Shuri said while her lips brushed against Athena’s.

Athena could soon feel Shuri’s length stroke into her. Tears of pleasure fell from her eyes as she let out soft moans, Shuri’s name falling from her lips. She looked up at her and marveled at her appearance.

Shuri’s gold chain glistened up against her skin, her bare upper body being on full display as her thrust became quicker.

On the other hand, Shuri couldn’t take her eyes off Athena. Even when her body wanted to close them, she couldn’t. She was entranced by the look of pleasure that was displayed on the other woman’s face. Her thrusts quickened as she could feel Athena squeeze her once more. “Come on baby…I know you want too…” Shuri moaned out, encouraging Athena.

“F-fuck! You’re gonna make me cum again…” Athena moaned out while her eyes rolled back slightly. “Give it to me…” Shuri said. Her thick Wakndan accent had Athena cumming in seconds.

“Shit, you look so pretty…I’m gonna cum from just looking at you—“ Shuri said before moaning loudly. She orgasm washed over her like a thunder storm and had her Whimpering.

Both woman were left breathing heavily before Shuri pulled out and laid beside Athena.

There was about two minutes of just silence.

Athena and Shuri were just gazing at each other. The both of them felt a buzz, leaving them feeling euphoric.

“That was…amazing..” Shuri said, hooking her arm around Athena’s back, pulling her closer. By this time, Shuri had discarded her strap, leaving their two completely hide bodies cuddled into one another. “…it really was…” Athena said before falling into a deep slumber.

—————————

When Athena woke up, she was back in her own bed. She looked around, feeling slightly disappointed when she couldn’t find Shuri. She understood that it was just sex, but deep down, she was wishing for more.

She laid back in her bed, sighing to herself. “I guess she was being serious…this really was just sex.” Athena says to herself. Her thoughts were interrupted by a Skype call notification from…Shuri. Her eyes widened in slight shock as she checked her appearance and answered quickly.

“Hello, sthandwa…” Shuri said. Her tone was warm and she had a look of adoration on her face.

“Hi Shuri…” Athena said, rubbing her arm shyly.

Both of the woman found it insane how sexual they are some hours ago, and how they are so much different in each others presence now.

But my gosh, this is only the beginning.

—————

Lol.

[sheluvv-gambino]

“Huh, you sound British.”

pairings : e-42 miles morales x black fem!reader

summary : Being a new student is already hard, just imagine being British in high school within Brooklyn.

warnings : I put a slash between the difference of American and British words so no one is confused since I’m not actually American myself.

part 2

Switching from an English secondary school to an American high school was not something that you could say you were actually excited for.

But yet here you are sitting in your mothers car listening to ‘Bonfire’ by Childish Gambino, trying not stress over being in a totally new environment.

“Okay, we’ve arrived.” Your mum/mom said rubbing the back of your shoulder.

“I’m gonna go now, I love you.” You sigh.

“I love you too but get your arse out this car so your not late please!”

You laugh whilst unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car walking towards the entrance.

Once you enter your immediately overwhelmed with the amount of loud new accents filtering the air. I mean sure you had been in New York for a few days before being introduced to the school but that doesn’t mean you were used to the variety of accents.

Making your way towards the principals office you ended up lost and having to scout the help of one your new peers.

Looking to your left you spot a fairly handsome guy with two cainrows/cornrows going down his neck, sharp jaw, and very plumed lips.

Damn, guess NYC ain’t that bad after all.

Tapping his shoulder you timidly ask “Sorry to disturb you but do you think your could show me to the principals office.”

He looked you up and down for a good thirty seconds before his focus finally set on your face.

“Huh, you sound British.”

“I mean I am from London.” You deadpan.

“Sure I’ll take you, c’mon.”

He takes off swiftly leaving you trailing behind him.

Once you finally reach the principals office

he stops and looks you dead in the eye tilting his head which ultimately makes you cast your gaze down to the floor.

“I’m Miles but I never caught your name.”

You look up and end up locking eyes.

“I’m Y/N” You smile downward.

“We’ll Y/N ion know much about British people but I hope we can get to know each other a bit more…”

And with that he walked away leaving you at the door of the principal.

Now all you have to is KNOCK.

————————

Getting halfway through the day was particularly easy except from the bombardment of questions from people you don’t even know.

Asking things about Britain like you were the Queen (R.I.P Queen Lizzy) It was like they had never heard of Google before.

Fortunately a group of girls adopted you into their circle and you were currently sitting with them at lunch.

“So how’s your day been except y’know all the weird questions?” One girl asks with a chuckle.

“We’ll it’s been a bit annoying relearning the stuff I’ve already done which by the way don’t you think it’s a bit weird that you guys do algebra for like a whole year. In England once we finish a topic we move onto the next.” You ramble with a sigh.

“Eh I mean I guess but it’s not anything new for us. Anyways since being here, have you caught your eye on anyone yet?” Another girl answers and questions.

“We’ll there was this one guy but I haven’t spotted him again since he dropped me off at the Principal’s.”

Some girls squeal in excitement at a new potential crush to gossip about.

“He was quite fit actually and he had these two braids going down. He gave a really good conversation on the way their actually.” You finish off going back to your food nonchalantly.

There must be a shift in the air because the table of girls stopped talking until someone pipes up.

“Your not talking ‘bout Miles Morales are you?!” She squeaks with widened eyes.

“We’ll yeah he said his name was Miles but he didn’t give his surname/lastname.”You start to nod.

“No way! Girls have been trying to get with him ever since we got to the school but he’s always cold and quiet around people who aren’t his friends. Girl you are so lucky.” She blurts out.

“We’ll I’m sure he was just being nice, I mean I am new.” You defend.

And with that Miles Morales walks past your table trailing behind his friends he gives a smirk and waves towards you.

Yeah, I guess you are lucky…very lucky!

[acetheabnormal]

To make him even sillier than before I feel I must state headcanons I have for the green gooper of QSMP . Because slime

- When he's feeling any extreme emotion he melts (not really my headcanon persay, but it is a very good popular one I love)

- Fuck it he makes almost purring sounds when happy (not quite like a cat though, its definitely more of a human sound). He's a slime idgaf. This idea taken from a mutual because it is awesome

- I haven't drawn this but he can shape-shift parts of his body for whatever he needs. Like if he's pretending to swing a baseball bat, he'll make one from his slime to exemplify it. He only does this for a joke or gag, though, and it doesn't serve any other purpose

- The hue of his slime changes depending on his mood or health, although it isn't super obvious. He gets darker the more depressed/malnourished he is (example: Purgatory)

- I make him very opaque but if you shined a light through him in a dark room it would filter through. He doesn't have any bones though

- He steals bones and can hide them in his body to be scary/funny. Everyone hates him for this. If you see his skeleton it isn't his

- He does have teeth though, technically... but they're not made of bone either. His glasses and teeth are both made of an almost harder version of his slime, which is odd. But don't worry about it

- He can take parts of himself apart if necessary but it's uncomfortable so he never does. Slime things

- He can go underground to hide but chooses to run away most of the time. He's more used to having human reactions to things than slime ones

- remove his stick and he DIES !!!! Treating it like a nerve ending

- Being slime means 0 vascular system or visible organs so he just absorbs things into his body at will. Can be food or objects. He will hide a rock in his head and take it out to chuck it at people. His brain is probably most of his legs or something. This guy is weird af

[definitelynotshouting]

Can you tell us something about Martyn or Scott in your hunger au? Completely your choice on what, I just want to see what they’re like in your au

[A COMM CALL; QUIET SPEECH FILTERED THROUGH LOW CRACKLES OF STATIC]

MARTYN

I'm not gonna lie, I didn't actually expect you to help them.

SCOTT

[A RUSTLE]

Why not? It's not like I had to do anything, really. Just— point them in the right direction and, I dunno, let them sort it out.

MARTYN

[Dryly] Yeah. I guess I just thought you'd be more... angry.

SCOTT

Me? I'm not— I wouldn't say I'm angry. Why, are you angry?

MARTYN

[SLIGHT PAUSE]

...

Y'know, that's hard to say. I don't think I'm not angry, but I'm not, like... actively mad, either?

SCOTT

Well, there you go, then. It's about the same for me, not much else to it.

MARTYN

...

Fair 'nough, I suppose.

SCOTT

Honestly, I'm surprised you're not more angry, considering all your— y'know, stuff.

MARTYN

What, just 'cause I knew Grian way back when?

SCOTT

Well yeah, obviously. You've known each other for a long time.

MARTYN

Have we? I'm not so sure anymore.

...

[Almost speaking to himself] He's felt weird for a while now, ever since he came back from Evo.

SCOTT

What's that supposed to mean?

MARTYN

Call it a hunch. I dunno, but he just feels— off. Wrong. Different? I can't put my finger on it.

[RUSTLE OF FABRIC, AS IF FROM A SHRUG]

Or— well, he did. Not like I've seen him around in a while.

SCOTT

[HUFF OF LAUGHTER]

Your superpower is freaky, Martyn, did you know that?

MARTYN

So you keep telling me.

[Teasingly] BigB thinks it's cool, though, so I don't give a damn what you have to say.

SCOTT

[Audible smile] BigB's got the superior opinion, yes, of course.

[A PAUSE]

MARTYN

...

So have you had any news yet? About if they've found him or not?

SCOTT

[With some surprise] You really want to know?

MARTYN

Yeah, man, tell me. He's still— I mean, I guess friend's a strong word now, but I still care.

SCOTT

Um, yeah, Jimmy said—

Hm.

...

MARTYN

[SMALL INCREDULOUS NOISE]

Jimmy said, did he?

SCOTT

I'm not sure why you're surprised. We do still talk, y'know.

MARTYN

Oh yeah, just— wasn't sure, is all, what with the whole— y'know, after the whole ranchers thing.

SCOTT

[Stiffly] Jimmy is... look, just because he has a boyfriend now who isn't me doesn't mean we can't whisper sometimes. Also, this is like, one of the least romantic topics you could ever talk about, so—

MARTYN

[BARK OF LAUGHTER]

God. Tell me about it.

SCOTT

Well I would, but you're too busy trying to interrogate me about Jimmy. I've got better things to do than sit here and pine, y'know?

[BRIEF SILENCE]

MARTYN

So, they found him?

...

[Press X to doubt] Right.

SCOTT

[LOW SIGH]

Yeah, they found him. Tango told Jimmy, who then told me; a bit of he said, she said...

He's in pretty rough shape.

MARTYN

[SMALL SCOFF]

That so?

SCOTT

According to Tango, yeah. Look, I didn't ask for any details, don't shoot the messenger. All I know is Jimmy said he's really sick.

MARTYN

[Wearily] Yeah, that sounds just like him. Goes haring off into the— the bloody sunset and comes back wrong immediately after. That's great.

[Slightly more upbeat] Cool, man, well— thanks for keeping me updated. I 'ppreciate it. Good luck with Tim.

SCOTT

[A LONGER SIGH]

I don't nee—

[ANOTHER PAUSE]

Okay, yes, yeah. I'll keep you up to date as best I can.

MARTYN

Maybe whisper Tango directly while you're at it. Cheers, Scott.

SCOTT

Mhm. See you around, Martyn.

[CLICK]

[seabirdtxt]

Vocem Dei

The Shouki no Kami was built to be the closest thing to an artificial god that humanity could create.

Just how close to divinity does the god-machine get? [p1 - you are here!] [p2] [p3]

Notes: Genshin SAGAU, cult AU, vaguely religious themes. pre-3.2!

WC. 1.5k

----- ⚘ -----

The Shouki no Kami was built to be the closest thing to an artificial god that humanity could create.

Infused with dozens of Divine Knowledge capsules, and powered by liquid energy inspired by the Lord Balladeer’s own divine puppet blood, the machine god had capabilities beyond even Dottore’s own comprehension.

And the good Doctor was oh so eager to find out what would happen if a person were to be plugged into the mainframe.

Nevermind that every scholar who’d tried to use Divine Knowledge capsules lost their minds in the process.

Scaramouche grunts softly with every tube that locks into its socket on his back, the sensation of the machine’s lifeblood beginning to flow through him causing his body’s equivalent of a brain, his databank, to spark painfully. He pushes through it, determined to grasp divinity with both of his unworthy hands even if it’s the last thing he does.

The moment he feels the last tube socket in, an all-encompassing buzzing sensation floods his body, causing him to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. He snarls and grits his teeth, distantly hearing Dottore rattle off some statistics.

The feeling is reminiscent of his birth, when he knew the embrace of the electro gnosis, but amplified by hundreds.

An inhuman scream leaves him, electro bolts coursing across his body and the machine’s as he bows backward, curved over the shimmering tubes and feeling their hotcoldsmoothsharp liquid pulsing through him. He opens his eyes, not aware of when he’d closed them.

Above him, reflected in the ceiling Shouki no Kami’s metal cockpit, Scaramouche can see his own eyes glow so brightly with electro energy that his pupils become white. Purple sparks emit from the corners of his eyes, like tears of pure energy that tumble down the sides of his face contorted in rage and agony. In his mouth, parted in a scream that’s now beyond human hearing, small bolts of lighting sew his teeth together.

Through sheer force of his own will, the face of Shouki no Kami’s cockpit begins to slide closed, just as he hears Dottore announce 100% compatibility.

As the face plates slam shut, the overwhelming sensation of raw power suddenly cuts out and Scaramouche slumps over, held up only by his connection to the tubes in his back. His face nearly collided with the doors in front of him but he stops his descent with his hands, and the sockets in his back pull ominously.

The blessed silence lasts for exactly a minute before being replaced by a strange mechanical sound, almost like a bell ringing.

He lifts his head weakly, turning from side to side to find the source, until he realizes it’s coming from inside his head.

“Wh-” he begins, but is cut off as a clicking noise interrupts him, replacing the ringing with a cordial-sounding voice.

“Hello, who’s speaking?”

“H- hey! Who the hell are you?! I demand to know how you’re speaking to me right now!”

There’s silence for a moment before the voice responds.

“Uh, well, you called me, dude. And I asked first.”

A million thoughts run through Scaramouche’s head as he braces his hands against the face plates of the cockpit, pushing himself back upright with a noise of frustration.

“Do you even know who I am? When I find out who you are I will put an end to your insignificant insect life- wait, what do you mean I called you?”

“... You… You called me, and I answered…” The voice says hesitantly, a tone of amusement filtering into their words. “That’s how calling usually works, right?”

Scaramouche rubs his temples, shaking his head. “I… called you? I don't even know who you are. How did you get in my head?”

“... in your- you know what? This is weird, dude. I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Wait!” Scaramouche blurts out before he can even realize he’s done it. “Don’t… don’t go! At least tell me who you are?”

The silence is deafening, and for a moment Scaramouche is sure he’s been left alone, and then the voice returns…

… Saying the name of Teyvat’s overarching deity. Greater than the Archons. Greater than Celestia. Greater than even the Traveller, who originated from beyond this world.

Incredulous, Scaramouche repeats after you, following up with: “Is- is that right? That’s your name?”

“... Yes? Should it not be?”

Scaramouche lets out a peal of elated laughter, the tubes in his back rattling with the movement. Unbelievable. He did it! He attained godhood beyond even the power of the Archons; he made direct contact with the Divine Creator themself!

“Your Grace! I can’t believe it. It’s me! It’s Scaramouche, the Balladeer, Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui! I can’t even begin to fathom that you deigned answer to my call!”

“Scaramouche? Like from the game?” the voice asks. “Is this some kind of prank?”

“Wait, no, please! No, I swear this isn’t a joke, please believe me! I’ve worked so hard to get to this point, I deserve your recognition!” A hint of desperation bleeds into his voice, and his fists clench where they’re pressed into the walls of the Shouki no Kami’s cockpit. A second passes with no response and a pathetic cry escapes his lips. “Please… not you, too…”

His shoulders and the tubes shake with the force of his muffled sobs, air he doesn’t truly need catching in his throat. He lets his head fall forward, colliding with the metal panels with a dull noise.

“Listen, I’m not sure I believe you,” the voice returns. “But you sound really bad, man. Please don’t cry or anything, okay? I’m kinda in the middle of something right now but I’ll call you back in a bit. If this is some kind of RP thing or whatever, I swear…”

Scaramouche feels it, the second communication is cut. It leaves a void in his skull, right behind his ears, and the silence that once filled the cockpit is replaced with the mechanical whir of the Shouki no Kami, and the metallic sound of hammering.

He swallows and rubs his eyes roughly, scrubbing any trace of tears and briefly thanking the powers that be for having made him a puppet, to exist without the embarrassing functions of blushing or having bloodshot eyes.

He grumbles and looks down at the heel of his palms, noticing that he’d wiped some blood as well. He checks his nose, finding it to be the source, and messily wipes it clean before willing the cockpit’s face plates to open.

Outside, a frantic team of Fatui engineers cheer and hastily pull the doors open, and Dottore pokes his head into the space, seemingly both relieved and intrigued at Scaramouche’s state.

“Well well, my little friend,” Dottore drawls, a shark-like smile spreading across his face. “The god machine, as well as you, has been unresponsive for just under twenty-four hours. We’d nearly feared that we lost you.”

Scaramouche glares at him with a sneer. “You seem so terribly broken up about it. I’m touched by your show of concern."

Dottore doesn’t reply, only acquiescing with a hum. Around him, the engineers are taking stock of the robot’s state and functions, jotting down notes and observing the puddle of Scaramouche’s blood, the evidence of which is still drying on his face.

“Tell me, was the synchronization a success?” the Doctor finally asks, barely holding back a flinch when Scaramouche’s head flies up to face him with a feral grin.

“More than a success,” he raves, his hand coming up to touch the side of his head. “With just a bit more practice, I will ascend higher than even Celestia itself!”

Dottore hides his uncertainty well, but Scaramouche’s eyes are sharper than they were before, and his grin widens at the sight of the Doctor’s expression.

“Very well, let us conclude the test now, then.” Dottore announces, motioning for the technicians around him to disconnect Scaramouche from the machine.

“No.” Scaramouche says, maintaining eye contact with Dottore and remaining stock still as he sends a pulse of electro running down his body, giving a violent shock to any of the technicians who’d been unfortunately too close.

“... No?” Dottore asks with a stiff smile.

“I want to stay connected with the machine,” Scaramouche declares. “Isn’t this the goal? Shouldn’t I spend as much time attuning to the divine energy, so that I may become the perfect god? This is what you designed it for, after all, right?"

Dottore remains silent, with that same plastic smile on his face.

“Very well,” he says curtly. “The Lord Balladeer may remain inside the god-machine. Resume monitoring and record signs of changes.”

The Doctor turns on his heel and steps lightly out of the room before Scaramouche could annoy him further. That suits Scaramouche just fine, as well. He settles back into the cockpit, willing the face plates closed until he’s in solitude once more. He stares at the small puddle of his own blood on the floor; his normal reddish oil-blood mixing with vibrant, glowing purple.

He leans back into the mess of tubes, and smirks.

He’ll eagerly await your next contact.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 7 thoughts

hmm. hmm. that is the sound if me pondering what i just watched.

(i understand that this episode was an analysis into mulder's self-destructive behaviors when faced with overwhelming grief, but. that does not mean i enjoyed vampire hookup time)

well. we shall start from the top!

i read that it was an episode about vampires which i thought was a weird narrative choice because. hello. scully still gone??? but then i remembered that i too ignored the main quest in skyrim to hunt some vampires and that i had no place to judge

(granted, my main quest wasn't finding scully though. might have given that a bit more priority than saving the whole world. because she IS my whole world)

we open with a guy that looks like joe biden meeting with an attractive young woman. they're making out in a hot tub and we just know someone is gonna get slurped upon. and woe, it be upon us! double vampire attack.

back in DC, mulder gets his old office back! it's covered in plastic. he takes some of it off. he adjusts his calendar from may to november, so we see how much time he and scully had been assigned to other tasks, which also has me wondering how she managed to get a new house that quick.

(also, this calendar is... scantily clad women posing next to tools such as hammers and saws. was this allowed? was this acceptable? was it normal? were the 90's a lawless wasteland and mulder an irreparable freak?)

well. scully is an x file now, and he puts her glasses and id into an evidence bag and closes the filing cabinet which was sooooo evil. but he can't bring himself to put her necklace away. oh man. oh he's gotta have it in case he finds her. he has to hold her close. i'm Fine this is Fine.

so. he goes out to california to deal with the joe biden looking fellow being murdered. and he is not wanted on the crime scene. we know this because someone greets him by saying "nobody called the bureau" and he says "well, they should have" and lifts up the tape to let himself in. because one thing about him is that he's gonna let himself into a place he isn't wanted.

he sees the writing of a bible verse in blood on the wall and says something about their grasp of biblical knowledge being "feeble and literal" and i was like okayyy need to have a theological discussion with him

he then scares the other guy who originally wanted to kick him out by reciting a LARGE amount of facts related to similar cases and it's very much giving photographic memory. got me thinking, have we ever seen this man forget something? (directions don't count. they're confusing. but everything else sticks in that man's brain)

he just needs one thing: a phone book. which he uses to call a blood bank and ask about a new guy. who must be the vampire who did this!

so he rolls up to the blood bank and i'm over here struggling because i do Not Do Blood, and i knew at this point this was gonna be a tough watch, but i didn't anticipate the non-blood related reasons why this would be true

anyway he's sniffing around the blood bank and he hears some slurping and wouldn't you know, this dude is tearing into a bag of the red stuff like it's a capri sun. somehow he gets him into custody, where the dude refuses to talk because the lights are on, and mulder comes in with a lamp he put a red filter over, because he was prepared for vampire interrogation.

the vampire is going on about how what he did isn't murder because it's not like animals hunting prey is murder which is. not the greatest approach in terms of legal defense. mulder tells the guard that the guy is delusional and it's best to play along, and he believed this to be true... until he, quite literally, burned to a crisp in the sunlight. and died.

he's talking to the coroner and rattling off a bunch of vampire facts and says he didn't believe in vampires which is so funny to me because like. why is that where you draw the line, my friend. not at bigfoot and definitely not at aliens. but man. vampires are just too out there for spooky mulder. until now!

the coroner has a very funny line: "you are really upsetting me... on several levels" which seems to be the general effect fox mulder has on people. and also because i felt the same way about his dumbass actions during this episode.

coroner finds a stamp on the dead body's hand, which seems to come from a nightclub. so naturally our fbi agent ends up there.

you often see posts saying that "(insert character here) should be at the club". i fear that this is not the case for fox mulder, but it's possible that it's his suit and tie that are throwing me off. he just doesn't seem like he belongs there. i ask myself, where should he be instead? perhaps some sort of star wars convention would suit him better. a book signing with some author he likes. idk, an interior decorating festival. not here.

i shall use my verbatim words to walk you through the next scene:

"pause. he's talking to a woman who was looking into a compact without a mirror. so. vampire suspect. and now why are they getting so close together. and getting a drink. okay now they're leaving to a new spot together? AFTER she admits to vampirism"

(here she did some stuff that required me to look away from my screen due to my Weak Constitution. but also it would have felt necessary to look away anyway because it was getting... charged)

she tries to get him to... suck on her finger... but he won't do it because aids. which is fair. i think that's a smart move, actually. it's just that getting flirty with a vampire he knows was involved with a ton of killings was such a stupid move, i don't know why it's now the braincells start to kick in.

that kills the vibe, though, so she gets another guy to take his place and things escalate.

mulder pulls in at a restaurant called ra. nice! the sun god! and he is... through a window, witnessing some more slurping action. he seems to want to intervene and save this poor soul being feasted upon...

but the poor soul is no poor soul at all! he comes out and decks mulder, and delivers this line with stunning conviction: "i don't know who you are, freak, but we're two consenting adults" and with this, he is forced to flee.

and yeah. it made me laugh. my expectations for the genre were subverted. he signed up for that shit! what he did not sign up for, however, was the next part, where he was killed by the other vampires.

cut to investigating the crime scene. mulder has brought along a forensic dentist, which is a job i had no idea you could go into. he needs to see about those bites, which are very human.

next they go to vampire woman's house. it's a very nice place. mulder... opens her oven. and sees a loaf of bread in there. and i'm thinking, man, i hope this doesn't go where i think it's going. baked goods... ovens... i never want a vampire pregnancy arc. but he cracks open the loaf and something red spills out and somehow, this to him means that she is gone and isn't coming back. he can read the signs of the bread. so add that to his resume. what did the bread tell you, my liege?

he seems to have stayed in her house, however, because he's there when she's back, and says he knows she was using the bread as a charm to ward off evil. because apparently that's an eastern european thing, blood bread to warn off evil. sound off if any eastern europeans in the chat wanna confirm or deny.

anyway. he's IN this woman he thinks is a vampire's HOUSE? what the hell. mulder seriously i need you to stop and think. like you should have stopped and done some thinking a while ago. honestly i'm not mad i'm just disappointed. and he's like "i want to save you come with me before they kill you" ohhh big tough man needs to save her huh. make him feel good inside. huh. certainly no ulterior motive here...

she's monologing about her horrible childhood and how sweet blood tastes. um girl. don't lie to him like that. i have busted my lip open before that stuff does NOT taste sweet and dangerous. it's like a penny with rust that you found in a parking lot.

it seems her vampiric origin story, if to be believed, is that things simply got too kinky. which is a new take on the genre.

(it's also about being caught in an abusive relationship and the damage that inflicts, but it seems abusive boyfriend came into vampirism at his kinky parties and things escalated from there. which. well. it blew the eyebrows clean off my head, to be fair)

at this point we see that he is WEARING SCULLY'S NECKLACE? he says something like "it's from someone i lost" and she says that she "hopes he finds her"

i did not like the undertones here and certainly not the overtones. because i knew where this was going. he was shaving in her bathroom. and let me tell you something: there is only ever a shaving scene in media because the writer needs a way to get some blood out of someone's body and into the real world. and man. i knew it was coming.

but what i didn't see coming was her SHAVING HIM??? girl. i am uncomfy. and she does, of course, cut him, and then they kiss. aggressively. terribly aggressively. can anyone answer what was going on in a satisfactory manner?

but the gag is: the original vampire- who burnt to a crisp in the jail cell, and was the abusive ex she spoke of- HE'S WATCHING THEM THROUGH THE WINDOW!

he breaks in and taunts the vampire woman about how he had to "wait for her to finish" and i was like cool. thank you SO much for that mental image i'm super happy with it. i definitely don't feel like i need a shower. but then he's going on about how he can't be killed.

here, at the tail end of the episode, we learn the rules of vampirism in this world: a vampire cannot be killed by a non-vampire. and a non-vampire BECOMES a vampire by consuming the blood of a believer and also taking a life. it is only here we realize that this woman is not an actual vampire yet, she just appropriates their culture by drinking blood unnecessarily.

mulder's still sleeping in her bed and she's like "you need to leave" and she stabs the wall to make her evil ex think she's killing him. but when they go to break out, mulder ties him up quite handily and he gets in the car to escape with vampire woman. until ANOTHER vampire woman jumps on the hood of their car. and main vampire woman knocks her out for a bit by running into her with said car, which is super effective.

mulder's leaving the place in shambles, his shirt still unbuttoned, wandering down the side of the hill. back at the house, now that we know the vampire rules, main vampire woman says she can finally kill the evil vampire ex. and he's like how!! you haven't had the blood of a believer or taken a life. so. she licks the blood off her hands (unclear if it's hers or mulders tbh) and says she'll take her own life. and drops a match after pouring gasoline.

so. that brings that to an end. and shabby looking mulder sits on a hill as he learns all four in the house died.

the episode ends with him playing with scully's necklace. which i don't even sort of feel like unpacking right now but maybe another time.

probably not, though, because i just didn't like this episode. and yeah, a lot of it comes down to me not wanting to see mulder hook up with people who aren't scully. can you blame me? is it so wrong to have preferences in this world?

but also, narrative wise- do you honestly see the guy fucking off to cali while scully's still missing to deal with an unrelated problem instead of devoting every hour of his life to finding her, like we saw him do in the last episode? you expect me to think he just puts it off for a lil while? the guy who, just last episode, pulled his gun on the ski lift operator to get to the top where she might be a little faster, and then choked his one and only suspect out of fury? you're thinking this is the guy that's gonna go soak up some west coast rays?

and yeah, he was obviously not himself through the episode- very cold and analytical- but c'mon. we all want to bang a vampire. he's not special. i just personally wouldn't do that if my friend were gone. like how is that gonna help the situation. be so for real. time and place!

and also the whole only learning the rules of being a vampire about 5 minutes before they need it to be plot relevant. that annoyed me too.

overall, mulder, like i said, i'm not mad, just disappointed.

let me know what you thought on this episode- i try to not be a hater, but i also understand that hating in small doses can be good for the soul. if it's a widely beloathed episode i'll feel better in my judgement as i join a long tradition of haters who have come before me.