saltedanswers

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HIGH FIDELITY | 1x06 “Weird..But Warm”

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i'm right here. i'm with you.

there's a rawness that is delicately tucked within the cage of her ribs, hidden from view, even her own, so that no one has to bear witness to the ugliness that seemed to have carved out of her. it seems to soften within the presence of dean winchester, which seems almost laughable itself, considering the fact that dean himself is a force of nature. it feels as though the entire house holds its breath whenever he dons her threshold, waiting with baited breath as he makes a move inside. it's as though the very air feels suffocating, but in the sense that you can't get enough, like her next favorite fix to help numb the pain of memories that seem to lick at her forefront when she is offered a moment of solace.

her tatted hand, moving up along the swell of his chest, feeling the lines of his soft muscles beneath the material of his shirt, she is not immune to the sigh that seems to drift from her tiers when she feels the steady beat of his heart. dean's human in all sense of the word, but sometimes there's something sinister that seems to lurk at his heels, waiting patiently to swallow him whole. her hand continues up along it's uncharted path, finding the column of his neck, where she brushes her thumb along his pulse point. a fine area for a kiss, she notes, but she shakes the thought free from her mind. when her hand finally lands in the spot that she had been aching for this entire time, the sharp line of his jaw, it's as though her body visibly relaxes, and she lets out a breath that she didn't know that she was holding.

"dean.." she whispers, and it's damning on her lips, because it's too damn vulnerable for her liking, just as she's sure that it's too vulnerable for him to hear. in this line of work, it's easier to keep people at arms length, friends and foes alike, because if you don't, you're begging for them to be taken from you. but oh, how she doesn't want that for him. but it seems as though heaven and hell have a tender spot for dean, that each places can't seem to hold their grasp on him, no matter how brutal his death was. he always come back topside. maybe he's not poison, maybe he's the cure that can erase the rob curse.

she pulls him down to her lithe stature, and it takes some coaxing and her standing up on her toes and pressing her chest against his own, before she finally meets his lips in a gentle caress into something vulnerable. soft. tender. she parts his lips with her own, pressing another kiss against the swell of his lower lip, with a barely there graze of her teeth, because in the haze of sweetness, she can still be sharp to the touch. which is why sometimes when dean is standing in front of her, it feels like she is looking into a mirror, she sees herself staring back at her, begging for some semblance of good. of something that isn't poison and broken and aching and hurt. something that can be sweet, like the kiss; something that can be good, like the way her hand slips beneath his shirt and the fleshy pads of her fingertips finds the lines of his abdomen; something that can be a relief, like the sigh that spills free from her kiss bruised brims as she leans her forehead against his own, and whispers, "i'm right here too, you stupid handsome idiot."

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things helo have done part 1 / 45765849494.

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and what if i said that i want to make her rob's cassie?

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PROMPTS FOR INTIMACY UNDER THE COVERS *  assorted suggestive dialogue, adjust as necessary

please do that again.

don't make me beg for it.

we'll take this nice and slow. i promise.

let me take it off for you.

i want to remember everything.

i'm right here. i'm with you.

play with me.

take it for me. i know you can.

turn around.

touch me like that again.

lean back a little and let me watch.

you look so good like this.

it's been years since i let anyone do that to me.

i've waited all my life for a night like this.

i never want to stop touching you.

tell me when i can move.

it's like your body was built for mine.

you have no idea how much you turn me on.

have me just like this.

look at me when i do it.

i can take it.

you like that, don't you.

you don't know what that does to me.

tell me what you want from me.

it's been a while for me.

you're the best thing i've ever tasted.

you take such good care of me.

do you trust me?

give me your hand.

you have no idea what you're doing to me.

you tell me to stop and i will.

sorry... i forgot how to breathe for a second there.

you feel so warm.

don't you dare stop.

you listen so well.

let me suck on it.

come back and kiss me.

whatever you just did... do it again.

where have you been all my life?

you're so good to me.

i won't make you wait.

stay the night.

take your time with me.

say my name.

i need more of you.

i could do this forever.

i've never ached like this before.

you taste so good.

spread your legs for me.

you took that so well.

that's it... just like that.

you feel incredible.

say that again.

did you like that?

that was so hot.

we can just kiss for a while.

don't take your eyes off of me for a second.

i want you to watch me.

don't let go of me.

i'm so close.

i'll be good for you.

put your hands in my hair.

i didn't even know you could do that.

someone might hear us.

i want this night to be perfect.

you drive me so wild.

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shipping with partners is scary because what if they don't want what they got?

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anyways who is going to give me patching each other up thread with heavy tones of sexual tension.

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alright, i'll finally word on rob's carrd.

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okay, but the kind of sex where it's messy and hasty like they couldn't wait to get past the threshold, so they collapse right in the hallway in front of rob's door, hands frantically all over each other to grab whatever they can, lips bruised with kisses and cheeks flushed with adrenaline, deep sighs and sharp giggles as they realize that they are just doing this in the middle of the hallway, but they don't care, they just want each other and now. not all of the clothes got off, and they just lay there afterwards still inside of her as they catch their breath afterwards but also being like "holy fuck... wanna take a shower together?"

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❝ okay first of all, you can't say shit like "hard" and expect me to not make a joke about it. like.. i'm sure you've handled hard before. see, easy, right? like you. alright, now i'm done.... like your last one night stand said when they finished. god, i'm so good at this." there's a long pause she takes in a deep breath of what little is left of her rolled joint. "what we were talkin' about again?"

@saltedanswers asked: just listen to me for once !

⸻ "ro, the longer i'm just out like this? the harder this will get. i can't afford hard right now."

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❝ depends. which one makes sure that we don't fucking die? ❞

@saltedanswers asked: don’t you know how dangerous this is ?

⸻ "okay, it's either people die or we can do something about this. which would you rather here?"

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rob takes another drag of her cigarette, watching intently as the smoke twist lazily toward the ceiling where it disappears into the dim lighting of her cluttered, smoke-stained haven. rob looks towards rafe's piercing eyes, dark and roiling like the sea on a storm-heavy night unforgiving to anything in it's path, as it flick to her. it feels like a car wreck when she holds his gaze, something that is just long enough for her to catch the weight of what’s unspoken. what it is that he really wants.

the smoke parts around her like a veil, leaving a fleeting trace of the tension that always seems to hang between them, thick and heavy. she lets his words settle like dust, letting rafe to wrestle with the silence a little longer, 'fore she crosses her arms over her chest, wrapping her robe around her frame over her clothes, and nods towards the stairs. she wouldn't be so stupid to let her good stuff linger downstairs, where frequent visitors come. she holds his gaze as she starts to move towards the direction silently, only breaking eye contact when she rotates entirely, and starts to ascend up along the stairs.

rob watches him move as they shuffle up along the stairs, the muscles in his shoulders tight and coiled like a predator, one who knows he’s been circling long enough to make her nervous, but not quite close enough to make her run. but she doesn’t flinch. no, her lip curls into a smile that isn’t really a smile at all. it’s a half-formed thing, twisted with irony and the burn of old regret because dammit, in some twisted way she sees herself tucked within the cage of his chest, like she's a rib that is helping his heart sit snugly in his skin. because maybe in some twisted way, he's her limb; can't seem to go missing without it. when they are inside of her bedroom, scatters of clothes and old takeout containers littered in various crevices of her abode, it's obvious that she does not usually expect guests within her four walls that one usually is most vulnerable. finally, she reaches her dresser where she pulls out a drawer, and shuffles over her mix of clean and old clothes to the side to reveal a bag. ❝ what kind'a shit you lookin' for, baby? just know that everything comes at a price... but i can offer a discount, because i'm nothing if not kind. ❞

…      any  fix  he’d  ever  applied  had  been  a  simple  band-aid.     time  and  time  again,    patched  together  while  tearing  at  the  seams.     worn  and  beaten  until  he  decided  that  just  maybe,     the  seams  had  lost  their  value.     left  alone,    to  tear  and  chart  their  own  path.     and  he  was  comfortable�� in  that  shell,    he  liked  to  think.     living  in  denial,    with  a  hefty  burden  upon  rigid  shoulders.     the  average  person  wouldn’t  see  it,    a  hearty  demeanor  shifted  any  and  all  blame  before  it  could  manifest  in  a  persons  mind.     not  her,    though.     it’s  eerily  frustrating,    because  he  doesn’t  need  it.   

❝   hey,   ❞     lowly  timbre  is  near  rooted  with  irritancy,    the  labels,    the  accusations.     deep  cureleans  tell  the  tale  he  refuses  to  speak  of.     he’s  tired  of  them  being  carelessly  placed  onto  him.     ❝   i’m  not  a  drunk,  and  i’m  not  a  fucking   …   i’m  not  an  addict,   ❞     could  stop  anytime.     the  same  line  he’d  told  himself  in  the  mirror,    just  to  make  it  easier  to  lie  to  others  at  a  face  value.     ❝  don’t  try  and  be  all,  ❞     a  hand  wafted  around  in  circles,    trying  to  make  sense  of  her  whole  act.     ❝   philosophical  and  shit  with  me,  i  don’t  need  a  therapist.   ❞     he  made  his  approach,    tension  in  sharp  features  finally  relaxed  at  the  sight  of  his  medicine.    this  was  therapy.     ❝   pain  like  a  badge   …   ❞     a  scoff  rumbled  through  his  broad  chest,    features  scrunched  up  in  dismay.     ❝   i  mean,  are  you  hearing  yourself?  you  sound  ridiculous.   ❞     silent  nothings  murmured  to  himself,    riveted  to  his  core  by  her  ability  to  see  through  his  fragile  layer  of  bullshit.     he  shook  a  half  drank  bottle  of  whiskey,    more  reliable  than  most  others.     ❝   you  don’t  have  anything  other  than  booze?  i  know  you  don’t  just  drink  booze,  c’mon.   ❞     he  pleaded  with  a  lowly  sigh.

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LIKEABLE PERSON TEST

You are a likable person (65%).

tagged by: @killvamps <3 tagging: @he11sprncss, @snnynatural, @maysbank, and anyone else who would like to do this!

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animal kingdom (2016-2022)

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"I'm not used to doing this while sober."

what the hell does that even mean? rob can only guess. she’s been around enough bruised souls to know the type; the ones who drink and fuck and fight just to escape what’s eating them alive inside. but rob knows that look too. the one where you’re standing at the edge of something and you’re not sure if you’re about to fall or fly. she knows what it’s like to be stuck in the middle of it, between the fire and the flood, and you can’t escape because you’ve forgotten what it feels like to be free of it. rafe looks out of place in the low light, the sharp lines of his jaw cutting through the gloom, his posture too confident for someone who’s clearly been running on fumes. the tension in his shoulders tells her all she needs to know, that whatever’s eating at him, he hasn’t been able to shake it yet.

she raises an eyebrow, the same detached mask of sarcasm she’s perfected over the years slipping into place. ❝ is that your way of saying you need a distraction? ❞ her voice is soft, almost dangerous now because she knows exactly what he’s doing. ❝ you need a quick fix so you can stop thinking for five minutes? so you don’t have to sit with whatever’s going on in your head? ❞ and god knows she has that, she has the drinks, the weed, the white powder that has been sitting in a bag in her nightstand for too long. most mornings, with her mind harboring a splitting headache, she tells herself that today will be the day that she learns the sweet taste of sober-ism. but then the whiskey seems to pour into her coffee mug, and the gummy that she finds waiting for her is popped into her mouth. anything, and everything, to numb the worst of pains.

the room feels smaller, the shadows curling in closer like the walls are closing in, suffocating. she can see the shift in him; the flicker of something too raw to hide. her jaw tightens, eyes darting away, like she’s suddenly aware of how much she’s given away. ❝ i think you’re the kind of guy who wears pain like a fucking badge, ❞ rob says, the words falling out of her mouth like they’ve been waiting for their moment. ❝ you carry it around like it’s your best accessory, but it just makes you tired. ❞ she moves over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, and when the doors swing open, it reveals a plethora of alcohol of various amount of liquid in them, obviously have been used and recently. ❝ what's your poison, rafe? every drunk needs a buddy, right? ❞

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the frustration that rob sees within the other, it's common within the hunters that come across her threshold, darkening the doorway into her living room that ties in seamlessly with her office where scatters of paper, books, vinyls, and old takeout containers rest 'pon. it's the expression of a person who has been exhausting their options, pouring their energy into everything, and given nothing in return. it's enough to drive anyone mad, even the best people, and sometimes, rob wonders if it has. several hunters that dons her home never seem to have come back, nor ever return her calls. those are the people that she seems to mourn, carry a little closer to her heart. the tenderness doesn't seem to reserve strictly for hunters, rob is finding out about herself. there's a soft smile that pulls on the corner of her brims when she hears the intruding question, and the answer is as easy as breathing. ❝ i grew up in this, and my dad would test me before every meal to make sure i knew my shit, ❞ rob replies, hands resting upon her lap, legs pulled closed to her chest, chin resting on her knees, as though she is curled in within herself. the memory on the surface seems soft, but rob has never found herself sober long enough to unpack more of what her past harbored. ❝ also having a photographic memory helps too, ❞ rob adds on after a brief pause, pearl teeth peeking between brims, clearly proud of herself.

@saltedanswers sent: you've got a fire in your eyes . use it , but don't let it consume you .

it's  almost  too  late  for  that. a  foot  dangles  where  she's  sat  facing  the  other,  swinging  idly  back  and  forth  as  she  peers  over  documents  spread  out  across  wooden  table.  she  wants  to  know  where  her  brother  is,  and  more  than  anything  she  desperately  wants  to  kill  the  monster  who'd  changed  the  course  of  her  entire  family's  life  in  one  night.      ❝     sometimes  i  think  it  already  has.  i  have  next  to  nothing  to  go  on  and  it  just  drives  me  nuts.      ❞    fingers  wrap  around  cross  pendant,  dragging  it  back  ‘n  forth  across  the  chain  while  exhaustion  seeps  into  her  bones,  drooping  lids  some,  shoulders  sagging.       ❝    so.  are  you  going  to  tell  me  how  you  know  everything?    ❞       it  reminds  her,  with  a  flash  of  bittersweetness,  of  bonnie.  bonnie,  who  could  feel  it  when  the  trio  were  stalked  around  the  graveyard  without  any  of  them  having  proof.   her  brave,  beautiful  witch  best  friend  that  she  hasn't  spoken  to  in  weeks,  but  she  should.      ❝    my  best  friend's  psychic.  i've  seen  so  much  mysterious  knowledge  about  things  from  her  nothing  surprises  me  anymore.    ❞       curiosity  piqued  she  leans  her  elbow  on  table,  cheek  in  palm,  while  she  awaits  a  response.