#anyway. mary forever <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[ananke-xiii]

I started writing about resurrection because, to me, the “Mary Winchester is complete” excuse in S14 is bullshit and the same goes for Billie and her “life’s unfair but what can you do?” speech to Rowena in S13. I’ve talked a little bit about Rowena and soonish I’ll post something about Mary because “About Mary, never enough”. But, before that, I need to say something about Chuck and Amara… and Oskar.

Mary’s death is, of course, once again a catalyst for plot advancement but, in this reading of mine about resurrection, it’s also the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Chuck. Because, after all, souls are “complicated even for him” but, more importantly: “even if I could, would you really want -- I mean, after what he did?”. It’s the switch between the “I could”, the “would you want it?” and the final “what he did” that signals the lie for me. In other words, Chuck just doesn’t want Mary back. So, of course, I must ask: why? Before answering, one little thing must be taken into account.

Now that the show’s over we know that Chuck is a hands-off God only when it comes to humanity minus Sam and Dean. After all, their story is the show’s story so this totally makes sense within this framework. But if I follow this line of reasoning, I find two very specific plot-points that wouldn’t really make sense for S14-S15-Chuck… or would they? I’m talking about Amara and Jack, perhaps the only two entities that have the possibility to end his own personal story. To me, the things are two: either Chuck willed their appearance in the story or they were collateral damage that he thought he could handle (and, in part, he wasn’t 100% wrong).

The first scenario fits my interpretation of Chuck as a gambling addict who has very, very deep and dark desires of complete annihilation. It’s a take that renders Chuck a more interesting character but it diminishes other characters’ relevance in the story. But it’s still possible and one day I’ll perhaps write about this in more details.

If Amara and Chuck are collateral damage, however, it means that it’s not just Sam, Dean and Cas who defy predestination but also… Rowena and Lucifer. Their actions (the destruction/creation of a “child”)(I know neither Oskar nor Jack really are “children” but I’m speaking more in archetypical terms rather than actual, factual ones, perhaps “Son” is a more appropriate word) aren’t God’s will, therefore they have de facto a very prominent role in Chuck’s narrative.

I’ll be honest with you, I have something written about Lucifer, Kelly and Jack that I don’t know if I’ll ever post because it’s a bit intense and I hate everything that Buckleming, or whatever they’re called, have done with that particular storyline. It’s both very uncomfortable and comical which makes things even worse. Also, I’ve been meaning to write about Oskar and Rowena for a while now so I think it’s fair to focus on them.

I’ve said that I’d have preferred if it were “Death’s death” that opened Amara’s cage and not the spell from the Book of the Damned but that’s just wishful thinking. The reality is that the cage was opened because Rowena finished the spell for the “cure” of the Mark of Cain, i.e. she metaphorically killed/sacrificed her soul in exchange for her freedom (oh, Rowena! The fact that something very different, yet very similar will happen again in S15 will forever sadden me). The last ingredient of the spell recites as follows: The caster's heart: The life of the thing the spell caster loves most. “Life” here means “blood” while the “caster’s heart” is, symbolically, Rowena’s soul because she basically must kill her “heart” for the spell to work. Which means that, without her heart, she’ll be “lifeless”, "soulless". It's "an eye for an eye" type of "exchange" (hello Equalizer/Hammurabi). It’s a really, really high price to pay for her physical freedom and for her metaphorical and unaware, brief freedom from Chuck’s narrative.

Who’s Oskar? He’s the child of the Polish family that gave shelter to Rowena, possibly the only people in her whole, sad story that ever showed true compassion for her. Oskar was sick at the time so Rowena cured him thanks to a spell (remind you of something?) and also gave him immortality (this is a bit weak and it’s clearly there because Rowena is 300 years old or something so they had to justify Oskar’s existence in the world, lol, me not like)(Wishful thinking, again: Oskar’s story could’ve been so much more interesting if he had, I don’t know, more than two scenes in the whole season).

My friend Wikipedia tells me that “Oscar” means “deer-loving one” or “friend of deer” and it’s the name of a character in Irish mythology of which, I’m afraid, I’m very ignorant so I cannot tell you much (here the Wikipedia page if you care). What’s more, it’s also the name of the dead son in “The Poems of Ossian” by Scottish poet James Macpherson. I only remember vaguely from my high school years that the Ossian cycle was much discussed because many believed it was a hoax? I don’t really remember much but it’s “nice” to notice that the writers took the trouble to associate Rowena, who’s Scottish, with a Scottish poem. Not that we needed it but it’s a huge foreshadowing because Oscar is, in the poem, a “dead son”, but it also shows that they at least put some care when they were crafting her story and this consoles me a little bit.

But Oskar decides to re-name himself as Seth and this is another huge red flag because Seth is Adam and Eve’s third son after Cain and Abel. The fact that Oskar/Dead Son/Seth/Third Brother is sacrificed by Rowena basically means that Sam/Abel won’t be killed by Dean/Cain (in case we needed further proof but okay, I like it). He is, from a narrative function pov, S10’s very own Adam Milligan, Macleod edition.

Oskar's life and Rowena’s soul are sacrificed because they are the price to pay to remove the Mark on Dean’s forearm. But since the Mark is not passed down to anybody, the cage is opened and Amara is “born” into the world as a… baby. A baby who eats souls to grow up. She’s a soul eater. Unlike Chuck and his lies, souls are not that complicated for Amara. By the end of S11 and after having consumed a good number of human souls, Amara gifts Dean with Mary. She resurrects Mary as a gift. Body and soul, the full package. Which is interesting because Billie clearly says from the beginning of S11 that, from now on, what's dead stays dead. Cough, cough, cough. So someone is not following the rules and this time it's not Sam, Dean, Cas nor even Chuck but it's Amara.

So Amara’s relationship with souls is quite… uncomplicated? She needs them, she gets them. She thinks Dean needs his mother, she gives her to him. Although I find it very telling that Amara is depicted solely as an agent of destruction while it’s her “missing” half, Chuck, her brother, who’s got the task of creation. She can, however, re-create her brother’s creation. I have to highlight this because in S11 another notable cage gets opened and Lucifer also runs free in the world. Again. By S12 he’ll also share his father’s fantasy of solely male creation ( while Kelly is unfortunately characterized from day 1 as the real, ultimate, disposable vessel).

I think Rowena and Lucifer managed to escape Chuck’s controlling narrative simply because… Chuck didn’t pay any attention to them. Didn’t care about them. Sam understands that Chuck is a huge scam, a hoax if you will, and he calls him “stupid and crazy”. Chuck's not interested in Sam's story and that'll cost him a bullet in the shoulder. His obsession with the “Dean kills Sam” plot totally distracted him from the underlying, compelling story linking Rowena, Oskar, Amara, Lucifer, Sam, Mary, Kelly and Jack. Which is the story of the expendables, the "sacrifices", the vessels, the enslaved and the caged. Chuck's narrative focuses, on the other hand, on the ones who, supposedly, should perpetrate violence.

Which is a bit of a pity because, the other side of it, it's the story of the birth and rebirth of the Rejected "Evil" which, in a wonderful paradox, is also the story of the Soul. It's not a morally flat story, mind you, because the Soul is definitely not the Good That Wins, she's starving, constantly mistreated, abused and nevertheless always there, the Real Immortal, peeking out, terrific and absolute, enraged, bruised, aching, demanding to be listened. It’s really, really too bad that the Soul won’t make it by the end of the show. Because, we’re told, She’s complete. I say bullshit.

[senblades]

It's me, or the world

[all-too-unwell-13]

awkward confession time lmao

so even though i've read atyd 3 times, i've never actually read past chapter 170 purely because i didn't want to read james and lily's deaths (& ofc the others-)

anyway, i read the last 18 chapters today

AND THE ENDING.

it was devastating in, like, a good way??? kinda???

idk i'm still in shock help

[mysimsyuri]

FINALLY got to watch the musical episode !! im now more in love with my partners than i was before . you will always be famous to me jamaican inspector man o7

[haze-of-hyperfixations]

take care bee, i hope things calm down for you a bit soon ❤️

you're very kind and wonderful, thank you <3

i got this ask last week and it really helped me settle my emotions while i focused on the stuff i had to do, i've been keeping it in my inbox until i got the chance to answer it.

but yeah, i was having a bit of a time of it, and getting this ask actually made my day so much better. and things have calmed down a little bit now. :)

thanks mari <3

[aromanticasterisms]

my god i am ADORING the fontaine world quests so much they are so good

[love-overdrive]

Continuing off that ridiculous post I made about stands being in love with their user's s/o's stands, I bring you another cruddy addition to Heaven's Door and Dancing Queen's shenanigans using that one Sheen audio I saw on the reels.

Not pictured: Rohan contemplating if he should smash his face against a shelf to forget this ever happened

[acaciapines]

Sometimes I am just Looking At Things. Anyway pls tell us abt the alternate history of the Boiling Isles :)

......okay so it turns out that like all of the fun stuff is a huge massive spoiler so i cant actually say like. anything. this is devastating.

so instead you get what is the funniest thing in the world to me but is also 100% not explored at all in the fic itself so i dont think it counts as a spoiler:

when luz-mari travels back in time in elsewhere and elsewhen, and runs into philip/belos. due to the fake story they tell him about their past and their ability with glyphs. philip is 100% convinced that luz is the child caleb had with a witch <3

he doesnt realize this was a lie until he meets luz in the present of the show fgkdkjgdf. and even then hes like. hm. hmmmmmmm.

[pyjamacryptid]

BBC Sherlock

oh anon I am so sorry to disappoint: I have unfortunately seen this show

HOWEVER. I haven’t seen season 4. Or the — was there a special? idk. idc.

So Sherlock’s plane does a u-turn with cartoon skid affects and lands back on the tarmac - since he’s been called to deal with moriarty stuff again or something??? And he and John have a very awkward oh hey haha funny seeing you again wow it’s been so long yeah like 2 minutes. Let’s Forget That Weirdly Emotional Goodbye. There is now a baby and Mary is now….. gone? So now john’s a single dad but not really because Sherlock is becoming dad number 2 which is very inconvenient when you want to avoid feelings and have a mad genius wanting to be the joker to your Batman. Well, well, well, look who it is— John’s stuck in a well. But it’s ok because Sherlock used his mind palace to include the well and construct a mind ladder to retrieve him, and Moriarty is now either dead or locked away and John and Sherlock can go back to bantering over crime scenes while raising the baby together but they don’t kiss. Or something.

[uglyseasonmp3]

nothing quite like getting high and putting on a dress after a long day of being misgendered

[filthyjanuary]

re: last reblog im actually crying a lil i had to go see if wayback machine had anything and like real ones remember

not the MJ breaking news hello??? these usernames too they're all so nostalgic to me

and of course i had to dig around to see if i could find one of my own posts to see how cringe my siggie was and well

truly the best days and the worst days and the most cringe days (honorific)

[ananke-xiii]

Missing Mothers and Missed Opportunities

Or: There can be three, four fathers in this show but there can only be one mother (and she doesn’t even want to be there, lol)!

One way that I like to see the first episodes of s13 is focusing on missed opportunities. Sam’s mind is in the past, he is very much ruminating about his missed opportunity with his mother while Dean’s mind is in the future as he is trying to deal with the fact that Cas is dead (although, to be honest, I think Cas’s death is a catalyst for Dean's much deeper issues related to his identity. As I’ve already said, in s12 Dean was in the process of understanding who he was regardless of his relationships and while he had some sort of reconciliation with Mary, he didn’t have any with Cas).

It’s no wonder, then, that Sam thinks that Cas and Mary might still be alive while Dean doesn’t. In Supernatural the past can come back and if it’s come back once why can’t it come back again? Past is hope. The future, however, is always “doom and gloom” in this series, it’s apocalypses, it’s “it ends bad, it ends bloody”, it is, in other words, super pessimistic. And “The Future” is impersonated in Jack and in the visions of the future he transmitted to Castiel which Dean blames for his death.

Sam is smart but it doesn’t take a genius to understand that if Jack has opened the rift once he might be able to open it again. Therefore, Sam sees in Jack an opportunity: if Jack can control and manage his powers he might open the rift again and Sam could get his mother back. What’s more, he also starts to see (what he thinks he’s) himself in Jack.

Dean: I told him the truth. See, you think you can use this freak but I know how this ends and it ends bad. Sam: I didn’t. Dean: What? Sam: I didn’t ‘end bad’. When I was the freak, when I was drinking demon blood. Dean: Come on man, that’s totally different. Sam: Was it? Because you could’ve put a bullet in me. Dad told you to put a bullet in me, but you didn’t! You saved me! So help me save him! Dean: You deserved to be saved, he doesn’t! Sam: Yes he does, Dean, of course he does!

The “What?” shows how the two are talking about completely different things. Maybe it was the word “freak” that triggered Sam, however I tend to agree with Dean here: Sam and Jack are not “totally different” but they are different. What I disagree with is when Dean says that Jack doesn’t deserve to be saved (Dean, Dean, Dean… you, just like everybody else, don’t need to “de-serve” anything. I swear to God the day we realize what the words we use actually mean maybe the world will really start changing). Because the thing is that Jack doesn’t need to be saved. He’s not a human who drank demon blood for what he thought was “the greater good” but turned out to be the beginning of his end. He was not part of a gigantic, messy, blatant scam involving Heaven and Hell. Jack’s partially the result of both Lucifer’s delusions of grandeur regarding Creation and Kelly’s conservative and dreamy desire to have a baby with the President of the USA (he was never gonna put any ring on it, girl and you knew it. Btw, Kelly is the baby-trapper in this story and no one else, I won’t change my mind ever), but he is nevertheless one of the most powerful beings in all existence. I honestly think that the only character who has ever understood Jack was Donatello.

Donatello: Oh. Speaking not as a prophet but as a scientist, I don’t think teaching him is in the cards. It’s like asking a lion not to be a lion. Sam: But this is not a lion! This is a human! Donatello: With a strong dose of God juice.

It’s not a strong dose of demon blood, Sam. It’s God juice, okay? LOL. Anyway, Donatello is super on point here: Jack is human and not-human. He’s a living aporia, the character where all the false dichotomies of the series show their fallacies. He’s “both… and” incarnated. He’s born and he’s already in his 20s. He’s a child and he’s a not-child. He has an age and he’s without age. Nobody will ever come close to understanding him if they cling close to a “black or white, good or evil” mentality. And this is why the show totally failed (for me) in s14 and how Sam is also failing here because he projects his own (respectable and very real) Lucifer-related issues with evilness onto Jack. Jack is beyond “good and evil” because he’s both human and angel, he embodies two different moralities and also transcends both of them because he’s neither only human nor only angel. To sum up, I don’t think that Supernatural, with its structure and its specific morality, could have handled a character like Jack. And this is why the show has to de-power him, de-soul him, make him die and resurrect etc.

Back to Sam and his failings. He projects his own stuff onto Jack, he wants to use him as a “can-opener”, he thinks Jack can be saved from “evil” because he can teach him. My question is: how much can Sam be negatively judged for these actions? My answer is: not so much.

As far as projections go, this is what he’s been doing from S1. Per SPN structure, both Sam and Dean have been projecting and identifying their issues onto the monsters of the weeks for 15 seasons. Jack is just the “Monster of the Season”. Projection and identification, identification and projection… I mean, this is what the show is about. If all of sudden Sam had woken up and miraculously solved all his identity-related issues the show would have been over.

As far as the utilitarian aspect goes, Sam has actually made some progress here. He “only” surveils Jack via cameras and tries to convince him to do some stupid exercises with a pencil. Previously on Supernatural Sam had literally enslaved, chained and imprisoned the people/creatures he wanted to use. These kids, they grow up so fast :”).

As far as the “do no evil” teaching goes, now here’s what’s really interesting to me.

The episode is “The Rising Son” and Sam’s passionate plea for Jack’s goodness via his teachings is paralleled to Asmodeus’s attempt at locating Jack in order to find him and harness his “timeless knowledge and unschooled power”. Asmodeus acts like Lucifer acted with Sam in S11 in that he pushes Jack to open up the earth “for God” (“I speak the words of God”, “God has a message for you”, “Do it for God” etc). Since Lucifer’s not here, though, Asmodeus wants to “[have]him (Jack) found and trained to rule. With me as his humble advisor, of course”. Of course we know he will fail because he himself says that he had tried to train the Shedim in the past and utterly failed.

ASMODEUS: I know the perils of Lucifer’s disappointment. DREXEL: He—he did that? ASMODEUS: Long ago. Eager to please, I freed the shedim. DREXEL: You… Oh, I’ve heard stories about— ASMODEUS: Oh, I’m sure you have. Hell’s most savage. Things so dark, and base, God himself would not allow them into the light. But I, in my pride, believed that I could train them. Use them. But Lucifer feared them, as well he should, so he forbade it, locked them up again.

This, of course, means that Sam will fail to train Jack/the Shedim too.

The parallel between Asmodeus and Sam must be explored because the show seems to pass it as an Evil (Asmodeus) vs Good (Sam) training but it’s not as simple as that. There’s even a scene where Asmodeus-as-Donatello talks about Jack with Sam and he seems to agree with Sam’s theory that Jack can be molded. While Sam thinks so because “Kelly was a good person”, Asmodeus-as-Donatello is obviously more interested in his evil father’s lineage.

While it’s true that both of them don’t even consider to give Jack a choice, to ask him questions and to try to understand him, they’re not exactly wrong when they agree that Jack’s powers do need some training, regardless of why they’re interested in his powers, Jack doesn’t have a grip on how his powers work. The show insistence on “good vs evil", however, completely ignores the very valid point where Jack’s powers are simply neither good or evil per se but they are “only” a(nother) force to be reckoned with.

This “good vs evil” thing obscures something very important and I think a distinction must be made here about what "training" really means in this context: Sam wants Jack to learn to master his powers, so that he (Jack) can be in control of them; on the other hand, Asmodeus wants to exploit Jack because of his powers, he wants to be the one who’s in control of them.

Both Sam and Asmodeus have an agenda, clearly, they’re also two characters very much interested in power. But when Asmodeus says that he wants to train Jack what he really has in mind is to groom him. Asmodeus’ techniques are very similar to Crowley’s with baby Amara and Demon Dean (I know Dean was not a child but he was one metaphorically because Crowley calls himself “Father” and “daddy” while he calls Dean “a rather scrumptious altar boy”. Ugh). These are predators’ techniques: their intent is to create intimacy with a person (for instance, Asmodeus takes on Donatello’s resemblance to lure Jack and take him to the Hell’s Gate), usually a child, to make them do what they want and abuse their victims, victims who usually don’t even realize they’re victims (Jack doesn’t know he’s being manipulated).

This is NOT what Sam means when he says he can teach Jack. Sam’s utilitarian mindset can be reproachable but his intent is not the same as Asmodeus. Sure, it’s still absolutely problematic but, again, his intent is not to open up the earth to release the Shedim and use Jack to rule Hell. He wants to open the rift to the Apocalypse World to find his mother. He is, in other words, being a softer version of John Winchester. In fact, he is replicating John’s methods because this is what he grew up with and this is what he knows. Avenging Mary’s death, finding Mary in the AU… even if the intent might be comprehensible it doesn’t justify both John and Sam’s attitude towards the reaching of their ends. Yet, their ways are still not the same ways of a Crowley or an Asmodeus.

The other thing is that John was Sam’s father. He was father to two human children whom he raised as if their childhood was a huge, endless military training. Training someone, as a concept, is not evil: if you have a skill or a talent or whatever, you need to train and learn and explore your limits. Having someone who believes in you and wants to help you in your training is not evil too: in fact, it might be a very good thing. It’s a problematic thing, however, when your caregiver is more focused on the training than the care. It’s even more problematic if said caregiver is a paranoid who raised his sons as soldiers. But this is still NOT the same thing as demons such as Crowley and Asmodeus do.

The differences in "training" and what Sam fails to understand about what happened with Asmodeus is explained in "Patience":

SAM: Even with Asmodeus, that just happened?

JACK: No, he made me. It was like, like he was in my head.

SAM: Okay um, then uh… Imagine him doing that.

JACK: No!

SAM: No? Why not?

JACK: Because I don’t want to! It’s just… I can’t do this! And you keep staring at me, waiting!

Asmodeus made Jack use his powers, he was in his head. He had also abducted him, manipulated him: he wasn't trying to train him, he was trying to groom him. Of course Jack doesn't want that.

If Sam is replicating his father's teachings we must then ask: who is Jack to Sam in this moment in the narrative? He’s definitely not his son nor his sibling. But he's not someone Sam keeps in locks either. As I’ve said, Sam has never been above imprisoning people in his dungeon to reach his goal, yet he takes another road with Jack, maybe precisely because he’s identifying with him and projecting onto him his own fears and issues with “being evil” and “being a freak”. There is something very similar between the two but what is it? And why is it not expressed? Maybe Sam is not Jack the way he thinks he is but they do share one thing: they have both missed the opportunity to create a bond with their respective mothers.

Sam only really utterly fails Jack when he’s dishonest with him. He eventually understands that and comes clean with him but I think that a lot of the initial issues happened because he was not communicating with Jack at all. And he didn’t even give him a choice. I think that if Sam were honest with Jack and gave him the choice to help him he would have discovered another thing that make them veeeery similar: both of them are okay with twisting human morality and… sort of… manipulate people a little to get what they want. Does this make them evil villains? To me, no. Does this make them human, layered, compelling characters that raise interesting moral questions more than give black and white answers? Totally yes!

Sam and Jack are not “totally different” but they are different. Conversely, they are not “totally similar” but they are similar. The Rescuing of the Mother can happen because The Loss of the Mother is something that Jack can deeply understand and relate to. He doesn’t want to save Mary just to please Sam and Dean. I think it’s deeper than that.

In case it wasn't clear, the conflation of Mary and Kelly is very clear in "The Big Empty":

MIA: You’ve lost someone recently? DEAN: No. JACK: My mother. SAM: Uh, our mother. We’ve having a difficult time.

Mary-as-Missed/Missing-Mother is such a central theme in this season that the Apocalypse World is a literal ramification of the Original World that's solely dependent on Mary Winchester’s choice to not deal with Azazel. John is never brought back and, more importantly, Sam and Dean are never born. This is a world where she’s not the mother. But why is Mary’s choice so vital it can create different timelines?

S12 and S13 implicitly seem to tell that everything that happened was because of Mary’s choice and… it’s, like, not true? Sometimes Sam and Dean are so ultra-focused on “free will” and “making the right choices” that tend to forget the part where both them and their parents were part of a larger scheme that was predicated on people ultimately being herd towards a designed pen. Like, while I think that Dean and Sam having issues with their mother is completely real and plausible, I don’t understand why the narrative re-frames itself in this way… I understand that they were going for a specific retelling of the first seasons but this is not just retelling, this is demolishing the premises of those series. S4-5 were precisely about the mystification and the perils of a glorified, Grand Destiny that in reality was nothing but a Big Scam. It’s not your destiny if your destiny is something that somebody else is telling you about and when this somebody else has a vested interest in you believing that you have that specific destiny. Or if somebody else is removing all of your choices leaving you with close to nothing to choose from.

Apocalypse World is, thus, such an unfair double-edged sword, cause on the one hand, it gives Mary agency but on the other it shows us that both choices resulted in… well, frankly, catastrophes. And I think it’s unfair to throw this huge weight onto her shoulders after they had dug her up from her grave while completely ignoring the whole thing about senior management angels playing puppeteers with the Winchesters.

Kelly-as-Missed/Missing-Mother is the other side of the coin of this little argument of mine because in s13 the writers demonstrated how Kelly must stay dead because one mother is enough and they didn’t know what to make of Kelly since she was not a hunter. She was just, as a character, Jack’s mother. The rift to the Apocalypse World was even possible in the first place because she (more or less, it’s complicated) decided that she would.have.her.baby. But, just like Mary before her resurrection, if his actual mother were back in the game it either meant that Jack was out of the game or that they had to include her in some capacity into the Winchesters dynamics and they didn’t want any of that. Mary’s death meant that Sam and Dean entered the hunters’ life, Kelly’s death assures the same for Jack. Plus, they all have an angel watching over them, isn't it just great? But hey, wait, this is the absent fathers show so we’re gonna give this kid three, four, five fathers!!! (sarcastic). Also, Alive Kelly wouldn’t be the Good, Perfect, Dead Mother that she is to Jack because, well, she would be a Real Character, not a memory on a pen drive and Alive Kelly would be so faaaar from the Good and Perfect Mother. Do we have to try to write another complex mother? One is enough!!! (sarcastic).

In conclusion, in s13 Sam’s (and Jack’s) huge missed opportunity stays… missing. Jack will go to the Apocalypse World and fight the angels with Mary whereas Mary decides to stay there (lol!) to help with the fight. They literally have to find a bus and move all the remaining AU people to the Original World because Mary has decided that she wanted to stay in a world where she didn’t choose John and she didn’t give birth to her sons (me asking Sam who has just died and was resurrected by Lucifer only to find out that his mother didn’t want to be saved: are you REALLY okay? LOL). I’ll stop here cause this is getting way too long but maybe, just maybe, s13 as a whole was a giant missed opportunity.

[crest-of-gautier]

oreo and max :D

[deathbecomesthem]

Basement Apartment Part 2/2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 6.6K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Summary - It's 2001, and you've just moved into this new basement apartment. It's not so bad, except for the neighbor directly above your bedroom.

Contains a mean reader (kinda). There is smut within Eddie is submissive here, but there isn't really any kind of actual dom/sub dynamic. This is kind of an enemies to lovers deal. Sorta. Alcohol. Use of derogatory language against Eddie.

Part 1

A/N: Thank you @jo-harrington for loving this story, and thank you for editing this at a moment's notice. Love you forever.

The alley is dark with only a singular halo of light illuminated by the light perched over the oversized metal door through which you and Jeannie just exited. There’s a rusty pipe just outside of the circle of light dripping into a small puddle of trash water next to an open dumpster. Cigarette butts litter the ground like the memories of past alleyway encounters to which you and Jeannie will add your own.

“You really are the hottest girl I’ve seen around here in a long time.” Jeannie’s smile is sweet, one of a Chesire cat grin. She’s eyeing you up and down in appreciation. “Maybe that’s just because I get to see you put Ed in his place for once.” You cough out a laugh because it is fun to put that boy in his place.  “Don’t get me wrong, he’s actually a great guy, just a cocky bastard when someone gets his dick hard.”

“Yeah, well, sounds like most of the guys I’ve dealt with,” you exhale the words along with a mournful sigh. You think about the casual misogyny that impacts every aspect of your daily life and frown at the thought. Just another man that looks at you like a prize, something they can win. Something they deserve.

“Nah, Ed really is a good guy. Not your typical asshole. Don’t let him fool you.” Eyebrows cocked, you take in the cheeky smile on Jeannie’s face. Guess I’m not getting any pussy tonight.

“I take it this” you move your hand between yourself and Jeannie “is not happening, eh?”

“Can’t do it, pretty. Not when you dance with me, and eye fuck a guy. No hard feelings.” No, no hard feelings. Not for Jeannie, anyway. No, you’re a stupid bisexual mess, and that’s not her fault.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I cock blocked myself.” This has you both laughing. “I’m sorry, that was bad behavior. You’re being too nice about it.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Jeannie rubs out her cigarette and wiggles her fingers at you in a goodbye as she turns and heads back into work. She stops at the door and adds, “He’s not a bad guy. He’s really not,” and the door is closing, leaving you alone in that circle of light to listen to the water drip, drip, drip while the filter of your cigarette starts to burn.

You hear faint laughter and watch a couple walking by, arms wrapped around each other. You step to the side, hiding in the shadow so you can watch them without being seen. You let out a little groan and stomp your foot in frustration. 

“Fuck this.” You’re done, ready to go home and find a bottle in the cabinet. You consider going to 2A to see if Mary and Steve were around, but you couldn’t bear the idea of cock blocking Mary too. It was pissing you off that this guy was in your head. It was pissing you off that you wanted him.

The short walk home is not enough. Just as your apartment building appears in the distance, you detour through an empty parking lot. This is a spot you’ve never explored, an elementary school with 4 square lines spray painted in the pavement, rusty basketball hoops, monkey bars, and 3 swings lined up in a row. One of the swings has been tossed over the top of the poles a few times, it sits higher than the other two. The moon is out, the air is calm, and you don’t mind the slight bite of cold through your thin pantyhose. You swing.

At first, it’s a gentle movement, but muscle memory takes over. You find yourself pumping your arms and legs, gaining momentum. Higher, higher, and higher still. You let your laughter erupt in the open air. Your breath fans out in a cloud around your face. You feel clean and free for a moment. You are laughing and swinging for what feels like hours, until something draws your attention.

A jingling sound can be heard at the side of the building, near the old basketball court. Someone is walking a dog, maybe? Your senses are heightened at the perceived possible threat, dragging your feet on the soft earth beneath the swing, you open the snap at the top of your purse. Then you see what is approaching, sauntering, towards you. A huff of aggravation leaves your mouth.

“You come here often?” The line is so ridiculously delivered, a faux husky voice, it earns Eddie a small laugh, and you can see his back straighten with pride. “Shouldn’t you be sitting at the bar waiting for Jeannie to get off work?”

“Did you put a tracking device on me somewhere? For fuck’s sake, give a girl a break.” His head is wobbling back and forth, as if to say, yeah, sorry. His long legs squat deeply to allow himself to rest on the swing to your right. You can’t help but giggle, the sight is endearing if not completely annoying.

“I heard someone laughing while I was on my way home. I had no idea I’d find you out here. I was intrigued, what can I say?” What can you say? Nothing. So, you don’t. You toe the dirt for a moment and begin pumping your arms and legs in earnest. Let him see your laughter. What harm could it do?

Eyes are on you as you reach the sky. Your hair whips from in front of your face to back behind your head. The laughter comes, the boy still watching and kicking the dirt. And then he says, “Wanna hear a joke?” And how could you not? You let out a loud, “Yeah” on your down swing.

“What do you do when your wife starts smoking?”

“What do you do?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“Use some lube.” 

You snort a laugh at the ridiculous joke. You drag your feet, a giggle still in your mouth. And you look at Eddie. God, he’s so beautiful it takes your breath away.

“That was an awful joke. Tell me another.” Now he’s swinging while you watch him. His legs are too long to kick back fully and get any real height, but he’s still going for it. He’s letting out a “Hmmmm” in thought while he thinks of another joke. You aren’t fooled, you know this guy has a whole arsenal in that brain of his.

“What do you call someone who refuses to fart in public?” He hasn’t even gotten to the punch line, and you're giddy enough to giggle already.

“What?” He stops hard, feet planted in the dirt to deliver his punch line.

“A private tutor.”

You can’t help it, you’re laughing like a flirtatious teenager, “You idiot.” You go to swat his arm, and he’s fast. He grabs it before it hits its mark. His fingers interlace with your own, and he lets your arms drop between you. Holding hands, arms formed in a V at this little school playground. It’s so tender you could puke.

“I’m sorry.” A long finger is rubbing along your knuckles while you listen to his soft voice, “I’m such an asshole. To be fair, that usually works for me.” His eyebrows are cocked at you, and his small smile is barely visible in the moonlight. He seems small and sweet in this moment, and you feel warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him.

“Yeah, well, I was just about ready to hate fuck the attitude out of you.” He drops your hand and dramatically grabs his chest.

“Hold on, let me just get in the right mind frame.” He stands up and shakes his arms at his side to limber up and clears his throat. His long arms grab the metal chain of your swing, and he leans into your space. A low seductive voice reverberates through his chest as he says, “Baby, your boobs remind me of Mt. Rushmore. My face should be among them.”

Your laughter is a release of tension. You’re in hysterics. It’s the only thing to describe your reaction to this fucking nerd putting on this ridiculous show. There are tears in the corner of your eyes until you catch sight of Eddie’s face. He’s watching you, the moonlight creating a halo around his stupid head with a wide smile that beams with pride.

“I would do anything to hear that laugh.” When you let out a groan of protest, his hand waves it away, “I’m serious. It’s what drew me back here. You have the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

You grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down to your eye level. Right as your noses brushes against his and you’re angling your mouth towards him he whispers, “I’d love to hear what other pretty noises you make.”

Hand flattened, you give him a shove. “You’re such an asshole, Eddie.”

“Oh, come on, I was joking.” You’re up and heading back to your building, annoyed with yourself more than him. “Please stop. I’m sorry.” Wheeling around to face him, he stops abruptly with his hands raised in surrender. You have your hands propped against your hips. You bend down and unlace your boots and toe them off. You’ve lost a couple of inches, but Eddie still seems completely intimidated. He inches his way towards you, as if approaching a rabid dog, and he reaches down to pick up your discarded boots to carry for you.

“Let me walk you home, hmm? Are you hungry? I picked up some perch at the fish market yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, are you offering to make me dinner at,” you look at your watch and scoff, “1:30 in the morning?”

“Uh, yeah. To be fair, I was planning to make myself dinner anyway, but why not. It’s obvious neither of us is getting laid tonight.” Too true. Neither of you were getting laid, which made you wonder…

“Why aren’t you getting laid tonight? You been in a dry spell lately? I saw plenty of pretty bimbos making googly eyes at you earlier.”

“Yeah, true.” He sighs dramatically, “I think I’ve had my fill of bimbos for a while, ya know? Plus, I think I was getting a slutty reputation around the building.”

“Pffffttt, come on.”

“I’m serious, I was more than a little embarrassed to have the hottest chick I’ve ever seen call me an asshole and a slut to my face.” Well, you are a slut. “And I know what you’re thinking, you were just calling it like you saw it, but is it a crime to have a good time, Sweetheart? I didn’t know everyone in the apartment building could hear me.”

There’s a tinge of something, guilt, in the back of your mind. You never told him about the vent. The vent that certainly can’t be legal. The vent that creates a direct opening between your rooms. Yeah, he’s a loud ass, but you probably wouldn’t hear most of what he’s doing in the privacy of his own room if it wasn’t for that fucking vent.

“Not everyone in the building.” You admit, sheepishly. A pause, a gentle hand on your shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question. “So, there’s this vent I discovered. It’s basically just wide-open space between our rooms.”

His eyes are moving side to side as if he’s trying to understand, trying to see it in his mind. “A vent? Why is there a ductwork that goes from one room to another room like that?” And you think for a moment you might get away with your bad behavior, because maybe he’ll focus on the design flaw instead of the fact that you blamed him for something out of his control.

“Wait. Are you telling me that you’ve been ragingly pissed off at me for something that isn’t my fault?” You wave your hand a little bit. Because, yeah, that’s pretty much true.

“Sort of. I mean, you’re still a cocky asshole that doesn’t consider his neighbors when he’s got his dick up.” His arms go up in frustration. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have decided to be mean right off the bat.”

Eddie’s still gripping your boots while your feet are walking on the freezing cold sidewalk with nothing but pantyhose between you and the night. The chill is finally starting to get to you, the booze having worn off completely. Your building isn’t too far, about a block away, and your teeth start to chatter a bit. You’re trying to hide it, not wanting to seem too vulnerable, too weak in this moment, but he’s observant. He swings off his leather jacket, leaving himself in just his cropped t-shirt, and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells like cigarettes, worn leather, and Old Spice. You could scream at how comforting it all is. How safe and cared for you feel. Instead, you try to satisfy your curiosity.

“So, tell me, Eddie, what do you do for a living?” You ask, hating the way the question sounds coming out of your mouth. Boring chit chat that doesn’t fit the already too intimate understanding the two of you have with each other. 

“Besides playing metal for free booze at the downtown bars? Take a guess.” Oof, if you had to guess, you’d have no idea. Tattoo artist? That’s plausible. Cook? Could be. Mechanic, plumber, electrician? How annoying to not know and how annoying to have him play coy about it.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can’t you just fucking tell me?” His head is thrown back in a laugh. He really enjoys needling you. He likes pissing you off, at least just a little.

“God, you’re so impatient. If you must know, I work with kids. Believe it or not, I’m a counselor for at-risk youth.” You can’t hide the shock on your face. There is no way you would have ever been able to guess that this guy worked with kids. Is a counselor. You’ve done work for family attorneys in the past, and you know what some of these kids go through. You imagine him holding the hands of kids going through the horrors of life. A lump begins to form at the base of your throat.

“Are you joking?” You practically choke out the words. It’s a rude question and you have no excuse for it other than the fact that it’s exactly what crosses your mind.

“Not joking. I had a rough time when I was younger. I barely got out of high school alive. Steve started going to a community college back home, and I decided to go for it with him. I spent 6 years getting a 4-year degree while flipping burgers.” 

Your mind is so blown you can’t do anything but stutter, “You’re a fucking saint? That’s actually kind of annoying.” You nudge Eddie with your shoulder affectionately. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I do for a living?” He nudges you back, affectionately.

“I know what you do. Mary told me. You’re an assistant for a lawyer with the aspiration to go to law school. And, you’re very likely going to do it and be a huge success because you’re a genius and you work harder than anyone she’s ever met.” Bless Mary, what a sweetheart. You can see her saying this to him, verbatim. She’s your biggest cheerleader. “It’s why I haven’t been having any overnight guests. You seriously had me feeling like the biggest dick in the world, you know.”

Ascending your steps to the front door of your building, you stop and look at Eddie. He’s a step below you, and still taller than eye level. “Why did you come on so strong with me? Why not just” you’re flapping your hand around looking for the right thing to say, “be normal with me?”

“I’m naturally flirtatious.” A roll of the eyes has him breathing through his nose, “Fine. you’re hot when you’re angry. Like, it’s insane. And, you know, most people find me charming.”

Yes. You could see it. He is charming. And sweet. Jeannie is right, he’s not a bad guy, he’s a really good guy, in fact. You reach your hand out to touch his curls, you’ve been thinking about how soft they would feel between your fingers since the first time saw him. Yes, they are soft. Oh, his hand is cupping your cheek, and you’re leaning your head into it. His skin is so warm despite the cold.

“God, you’re so beautiful, I could cry.” The words are out before you can stop them, and maybe you don’t want to. Maybe he needs to know what is true about him in your eyes. That he is beautiful, and that you want him, even more now that he’s let you see who he really is.

He releases a slow exhale at your words, and you can see a flush creeping up his neck. You are charmed. Before a protest can be made, you let your mouth meet his. You let yourself taste him, breathe him in. And he is sweet. A light kiss, and his breath is fanning over your face.

He pulls back to look into your eyes and says, “I think you might have something in your eyes.” You furrow your brows a little while he inspects them, “No, sorry, just a sparkle.” He’s breathing out a laugh at his own terrible pick up line, and you hate him.

“I hate you.” You say the words without conviction, and this time, his mouth meets your own with a firm kiss. A tongue snaking across your bottom lip in a plea for entry, and you grant it. This is bliss. His arms are holding you at your hips while yours find his neck. Like teenagers at your parents’ doorstep not wanting the night to end. This goes on until he feels you trembling and remembers that you could be doing this inside. Where there’s heat and comfort.

“Wouldst thou allow me the honor of walking thee to thine door this fine evening, M’lady?” He asks, and you realize that this guy that has  fucked every woman in the tri-state area is an actual nerd. A goofy bastard.

“Thank you, kind sir. I hate to be out on these streets alone.” You bat your eyelashes and he lets out a little groan of pain. You relish in that groan, an indication that you have the upperhand with this man. You do have him wrapped around your little finger. Not only could you make him putty in your hands, you are doing it by just existing within his space. 

As you head to the stairs, you feel Eddie’s warm fingers tangling themselves with your own, and that feeling of being a kid hits you again. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of zinging tingle from such a simple gesture. Will he be careful with me? A bit of doubt begins to prickle at the back of your mind.

“So.” You’re standing with your back against your door, head tilted up to Eddie while he’s leaning his arm above you and bending into your space. “Did you want to come in, or…” Lips are on you. His soft mouth, so warm and inviting, and your tongues are dancing. It is divine. It is perfection. Until. Until. Until. “Wait.”

When your eyes focus on his face, there is concern. Not anger at being told to wait. Not frustration at your hand holding him away from you. Just brows knit together in distress for you. 

“Are you ok, Sweetheart. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” His knuckles brush against your cheek, and then he takes a small step back to allow you a little distance.

“No, Eddie, you’ve done nothing wrong.” You’ve turned around at this point, and you’re fumbling for your keys. They rattle as they hit the linoleum at your feet. Curses are being muttered under your breath while you try to recover.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s big brown eyes are still so full of concern, you could cry. You want nothing more than to bring him into your home, into your bed, and just let go. It would be one thing if there weren’t these feelings brewing inside of you. It wasn’t what you planned. No, you want his mouth all over you, a tender embrace. The last time you had those things, you got burned. You’ve learned about playing with fire, and you just don’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You let out a little shocked noise at your stupid self, “you really are beautiful and sexy. And you’re a good person to boot.” Your head is shaking at him, because these are not things you’ve been looking for.

“Um, thanks? Why is that bad?” His tenderness is too much for you, and you feel yourself wanting to give in. His hand is gently brushing your hair away from your face, and he’s tilting his head to try to see you better.

“Because, I like you, and that’s not something I can deal with. I’m not looking to feel anything other than mutual physical satisfaction. With anyone.” You throw your hand out to emphasize your point. Nope. Not looking for a boyfriend. And that’s what this motherfucker is, he’s a goddamn boyfriend if you’ve ever seen one.

“Uh, well, I say that’s too fucking bad, Sweetheart. The feelings are mutual, and if you don’t want to hang out with me because we’re super compatible, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” The smile he’s wearing barely masks his frustration. He’s looking like the cocky shit you first met. Arms spread open to present himself to you. “Fucking fine, I’ll leave you alone. Give me my jacket back.”

You shrug it off and hand it over, already missing the warmth. You feel so small right now, and so angry at yourself. He’s right, it is stupid. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I don’t think I could fuck you and have it be just casual. I can’t have you living above me, hearing you and whoever else. It would be one thing if we didn’t live in the same building, but I’d rather not even go there right now. There’s no way this wouldn’t end up being a complete shit show.”

He spins on his heel and takes the stairs two at a time, leaving you standing alone under the glow of the fluorescent lights that illuminate the hall. When you finally enter the apartment, tears are stinging at the corners of your eyes. What is your fucking problem? You don’t even notice that Mary and Steve are sitting on the couch watching a movie.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mary is scrambling out of the embrace she was sharing with Steve. “I heard you shouting with, uh, someone in the hallway.”

“With Ed, it was definitely Ed.” Steve says nonchalantly, as if saying his name wouldn’t drive a dagger through your heart.

“Thanks for that, Steve.” Mary’s annoyed face is completely unconvincing. To be fair, how could anyone be annoyed with Steve? He’s so precious.

“I just,” You sigh and try to find something to say to get her to leave you alone, “I hung out with him a little bit tonight, and I can’t do this right now. It would be one thing if it was just sex, but he’s so fucking perfect.” Mary knows. She’ll support you. She knows how hard you took it the last time you tried to do the feeling thing with someone. She will hug you and tell you that you’re doing the right thing.

She is staring at you with incredulity. Flabbergasted. Bemused. Dumbfounded. Absolutely flummoxed. “You’re fucking stupid.”

Steve lets out a little laugh through his nose and clears his throat to cover the sound. You and Mary both shoot eye daggers in his direction and he just gives you both a little shrug. “You know, Eddie hasn’t stopped talking about how much he wants to get to know you. You have him so wound up, it’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve done nothing but be a complete bitch to him.”

“Yeah, and Mary here has told him how amazing you are. He’s always like this. He loves when someone is willing to put him in his place.” Your head is spinning at the thought. Putting him in his place. “Plus, Mary told him that you want to be a lawyer and work with legal aid. He’s ready to go out and buy a ring.”

“Shut up, Steve, you’re freaking her out.” Mary turns back to you and grabs your hand. “Just answer this question for me, and I’ll leave you alone.” Her eyebrows are raised, and you nod in answer, “If you’re already hurting your own feelings by not allowing yourself the chance to spend time with Eddie, what’s the harm in seeing what might be there before you crush it?”

You roll your eyes and wave, “Good night, guys. Be safe.” You hate that everyone is right. Fuck this. You’re going to bed.

Emotionally exhausted, you find sleep easy to find. As you drift, through the sound of your fan blowing gently on your night stand, you hear something that is bringing you back into the waking world. It’s soft, so quiet. Is that? It’s music.

It’s a song you recognize, anyone would, but it’s so much more mournful than it should be. Soft and gentle strumming. Mary’s words are hounding you while you hear Eddie singing, through that fucking vent, I Want To Hold Your Hand. You’re so pissed off, there’s nothing you can do but throw your legs over the edge of your bed and stomp out of your room. Down the hall. To the living room where Steve and Mary are sleeping. Out your apartment door. Up the stairs. All while still in your tiny sleep shorts and tank top, the breeze of the front door to the building leaving your skin covered in goose flesh.

*knock, knock, knock* Come on, I know you’re awake. A little louder *knock, knock, knock*, and you hear him grumbling behind the door. “You’ve got to stop forgetting your keys man, it’s like 3 in the morning. The door swings open, and he sees you.

“Hi.” His eyes widen, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Was I too loud?” Yes. Too loud. Too pretty. Too kind. Too sexy. Too everything.

You push your way past him and into his apartment, back into his bedroom. He’s following you, still confused, huffing at you. Until you stop to face him outside of his bedroom door. A finger firmly pointed at his chest.

“One of two things needs to happen tomorrow.” He’s looking from your finger to your face, trying to understand what’s going on, “Either we get the landlord down here to fix this vent issue, or you and Steve switch rooms.”

“Uh, ok. Yeah, that’s fine.” Your finger moves up to the fringe of his hair, letting it dance along his forehead. “Sweetheart, do you have something else in mind to talk about?” You shake your head at him, eyes still focused on his, absolutely mesmerized by him.

“I want you, Eddie, if you’ll have me. Even if it’s just for tonight. How does that sound to you?” Eddie’s lip curls up and throws his arms around your waist to lift you off the ground in a bear hug. Your fist pound his chest in protest while giggles are erupting out of you. Without putting you down, he kicks his door open and walks you over to his bed.

“Oh, Sweetheart, this is gonna be so fun.” Your mouths are mingling gently, with need and passion, but so sweetly. His big hands grip your torso and toss you onto his messy bed. He’s climbing over you while you crook your finger to draw him closer to you. Close enough for you to-

“Jesus, woman.” -wrap your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back. You wiggle your finger at him in a “no-no” gesture when he tries to push himself back up.

“Let me make you feel good, Baby. You’re so pretty, I just wanna play for a while.” A pathetic whine leaves his mouth at your words. You know these are probably words he’s used on countless women over the years. You mean it, too. You want to open him up and see his heart beating in his chest. You want to see his lungs expand and expel his breath. You want to explore the expanse of his chest with the tip of your nose. Your tongue. You want to see the freckles that are hidden from his own gaze and take the time to appreciate each of them.

“Let’s come to an agreement, Baby. If you tell me no, ask me to stop, or in any way sound like you’re anything more than enthusiastic about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. Ok?” Eddie nods enthusiatically. “The only other thing I’m going to ask is that you don’t touch me until I tell you it’s ok. You can ask if you really need it.” He’s nodding again, and you give a curt head shake, “Tell me if this is ok, please.” You’re sitting with your legs slung over his chest, and a hand cupping his cheek. You need to see what his face and words are telling you.

“Yes, please.” He’s nodding, and then a little wolfish grin crosses his pretty lips. “That all sounds good for now. We can talk about a switch up for the next time.” You scoff in answer, but you can’t deny the throb you feel at his words. Maybe you could see yourself relinquishing some control with him.

No more words for now, Eddie is on his best behavior as he watches you with keen, shining eyes. You waste no time and peel his shirt off, showing you that chest you wanted to mark up. Before even touching him with your hands, you lick a stripe from the line of hair below his belly button, up his stomach, over his chest, and to his neck where you begin sucking behind his ear. His responding groan is music to your ears.

Before long he’s laid out for you, completely nude, hard as a rock and moaning while you tease him with gentle strokes and words of praise. He is so good for you, so beautiful with the purpling marks on his chest and thighs. And quiet, he’s being so quiet for you.

“Baby, you’re such a good boy for me. Tell me what you want me to do.” You give his slit a little kitten li k and his eyes roll back but his hands are still firmly planted and gripping the sheets below him. “Wanna see how far I can get your cock in my throat? It’s pretty big, Baby, I don’t know if I can handle it.” You’re pouting at him, giving him your sweet big eyes, batting your lashes at him.

His response is high pitched, sounding almost painful, “Sweetheart, I want you to suck my cock, but god, can I touch you, please.” Aw, it’s only been 30 minutes.

“Oh, Baby, I was just getting started.” Your hand moves down his shaft to the soft sac at the base of his cock. As he’s watching you, you take two of your fingers into your mouth and let your saliva coat them. His own mouth is moving in sync with your own, tasting the ghost of your fingers. You bring your hand down to the spot below his sac where it’s so sensitive and press firmly. His cock jumps and arousal leaks down to the thatch of hair at the base.

“Oh my god, I need to touch you. Please, please, please, let me touch you.” His whining cry, and the tear gliding down his cheek have you feeling weak.

You work your shorts off, finally exposing yourself to him. His hands are still pinned to the bed while you hover your sticky center over him. You sit on his stomach and rock yourself, not quite touching the head of his cock with your ass. His head is thrown back in concentration when you finally tell him, “You can touch me, Baby.”

His eyes shoot open, and his hands find your hips. Without a word, he has you on your back. “You gonna let me make you feel good, Sweetheart?” He’s wild, he looks like he wants to devour you, and you’re ready to let him do anything in this moment.

“Please, Eddie, anything you want.” His eyes are still wet from the edging. You’re running your finger along the purple marks you left on his chest, and he’s gone. You feel him ripping your shirt over your head and he’s throwing it out into the room.

He’s not gentle, and you’re not surprised. He’s not used to being teased like this. Your legs are spread wide, and his big hands pull you down into his waiting face. Immediately, he gets to work, he’s laid flat against the bed, his erection finally getting some friction while his tongue gets to taste you. It’s broad stripes along your slit with tiny kitten licks when he reaches your nub. Over and over and over. The movements are calculated. You’re watching him and he’s watching you. It’s when you start to rock your hips up to meet his mouth that he latches on to your clit with ferocity.

*bang* you’re writhing in pleasure. The feel of his mouth has you shaking uncontrollably, your moans get higher and higher until every muscle in your body is tense and you feel your center releasing. Eddie is practically growling as he laps up your arousal until your hands thread through his hair and you’re pulling him up to you.

“I need you inside me. I need it, Baby. Please.” Eddie is calming you down with a gentle shushing. His hands have found your face, and he kisses away the tears you didn’t know you had shed.

“I’m here, Sweetheart.” Kissing him now, with your taste on his tongue, you want it to last forever. You wrap your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles around him, pleading with your eyes. He leaves a kiss on your temple as he reaches for the small box on the nightstand. You watch, your body still boneless as he glides the condom down his length. You can’t remember the last time you had a man in this position. His body flush with your own, covering you, his face in your neck. Every inch of him makes your body hitch in excitement until you are completely full. You and Eddie are both open mouthed, and making silent noises until he moves. You’re meeting every thrust with your hips.

Moving in tandem, hard and fast, you know it won’t be long. Every thrust is hitting your most sensitive spot inside, while the hair at the base of his shaft tickles your clit. His breath on your neck, the whimpers and moans in your ear. It all feels so unbelievably good. You’re wound tightly again, already, sweat is collecting between your breasts that are pushed against Eddie’s chest.

“Oh, Baby, you’re fucking me so good. I’m gonna cum.” His reaction is to speed up even more, pounding you brainless. Only static and pleasure. That’s all that’s left of you as he uses you.

“Fucking cum with me.” The orgasm rips through you, and you’re screaming. If you had a brain to think with, you’d realize that if you were in your own room the sounds would be louder than any you’ve heard before. You can feel his thrust turning into a gentle rocking as he empties himself. And then, you’re both still, breathing into each other’s necks.

You lay together for a while, until you start to feel like you’re being suffocated. “Eddie, get off of me.” You reach down and give his ass a little slap. You think he might have drifted off to sleep while still inside of you.

He rolls over with a deep groan. You know you’ve worn him out, he looks exhausted. “Oh, Baby, I’ll be right back.”

You head to the bathroom and wash yourself. You count it as lucky that your apartments are identical, and guess that you could find some washcloths in the linen closet. When you reenter Eddie’s room, he hasn’t moved an inch. You remove the condom and clean him off while he makes little noises. You find his boxers and guide them up over his slender hips. After you find your own underwear, you climb into bed and cozy up into his chest.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is full of sleep and barely whispered. You hum back to him. “Can I keep you? Will you be mine?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

tagging: @missmarch-99 @powderblueblood @thornsnvultures @corrodedcorpses @munsonburn3r

@definitionwanderlust @mopeymopeymouse

[reareaotaku]

She's the Only Girl that I wanna Love

Pt 1: Mary is the Girl I Wanna Fuck Summary: Miles was acting strange... Stranger than usual anyway Tw: Implied sexual indications, Gaslighting, Emotional manipulation [Might make a part 3???] Taglist: @tomhockstetter7-111, @onegayvampire, @niajjcka, @ihatemakingnames, @maxiscoolongg, @ashhole0-0, @fxchild

You awoke feeling hot all over. You felt hands on you and feet entangled with your own. It took a minute before you realized what had happened. You were trapped in Miles hold. When seeing his peaceful face, you remembered what had happened.

You sat up, but not before wiggling your way out of his grip. You release a sigh, before pushing your fingers through your hair. You can hear him moving in his sleep, before he groans, his hands seemingly searching for you.

Miles peeks opens his eyes, before calling out your name, confusing on where you were.

"I'm still here. I didn't leave."

He looks up at you confused, before scratching the back of his head, his eyes scrunching together. "Right. I mean... where would you go?" He chuckles.

---

You had been stuck in the Fairchild mansion for longer than originally planned, but it didn't seem to bother Miles. In fact, he relished in your presence occupying the home. You both knew you'd have to leave soon, but Miles was hoping that maybe something would happen and stop you from leaving.

Sure, maybe it was a terrible thought, but it was far from the worst thought Miles ever had, especially the ones with you in it. The thought made him smirk to himself. He knows he shouldn't think about you in such a way, but honestly, he didn't have much of a moral compass to care. Besides, he was sure you felt the same way. You had to. You were perfect for each other. Perfect.

---

You frowned as your fingers pressed against the strings. It was frustrating and irritating. There were indents on your fingers from the guitar. You groan before taking off the guitar strap and putting the guitar by your side.

"Had enough already?"

You roll your eyes, before looking at him, "We've been doing this forever. I think it's time to accept that I'm just hopeless."

He laughs, "I don't think you're hopeless."

"Well, I sure feel that way. Why can't we do something else?"

"Okay, what do you want to do?"

"Um... Isn't there a fish pond near?"

"Yeah, but the pond is probably frozen."

"That's too bad."

---

Things were weird. The house felt.... cold. And dark. There was something off about the place, but you couldn't put your finger on it. Not to mention Miles was acting weird... At least, weirder than usual. He wasn't the Miles you knew at school; He was a lot, well, meaner. Maybe not to you directly, but you could see it in the way he treated those around him. It wasn't him. But who was it?

You thought about confronting him, but what would you have said? You don't even have any concrete idea of what is happening, just a feeling. You can't confront someone based on a feeling. But... You didn't like the change and you wanted Miles back, but how could you do it?

---

You felt trapped and Miles was clearly mad. You weren't sure why, but it must have been something you said.

"So, what? I'm not good enough for you?"

"I never said that-" You sheepishly get out as he steps towards you, his nose nearly touching yours. His eyes were dark and swarmed with an unknown emotion.

"You didn't have to say it. I know. Nobody thinks I'm good enough." He looks away from you, a frown over taking your face, "Maybe... that's why my parents are dead."

"That's not true, Miles. Your parents loved you-"

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Love me?"

"Of course-"

"Then why won't you stay?"

"I can't not go to school, Miles."

"That's not what I said. Don't twist my words."

"You said you wanted me to stay-"

"Yes."

"And by staying, I would be missing school."

"What is it about school? The people? You don't talk to anyone else. The work? Education? You can do it from here. There are people trained-"

"No, Miles."

"What?"

"I'm not staying here with you. I don't know what's going on... Maybe it's this house, but I can't stay here. YOU can't stay here," You grab his hands, pulling them close to you. But when you look up at him, it's like he's not there. "You have to get out of here, Miles. Something's happening to you and I think it has something to do with this house."

He tilts his head, "Oh, Y/n." He pulls one of his hands out of your grip and caresses your face. "You're so precious... Yet so stupid." You feel him reach behind your ear and press hard on that hollow spot. You try squeezing your shoulders together and grabbing his hand, but it was useless- He was stronger than you and you were slowly losing conscious. You... couldn't... think... Your eyes.... are heavy.... Then it was all black.

[opal-owl-flight]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace.

...

I shouldve just told you that I love you.

What if 4 never recovered from her greyscaling? These couple of pics are inspired by both a friend and a specific scene in Howl's Moving Castle :]

This whole scenario is inspired by @mushroomminded 's Agent 39 stuff! GAGH it broke my heart and I had to blend some squids to recover

Deets below!

"Its...." Marie whispers to Callie. "Its been 4 hours, and theyre starting to stink worse than usual. Should we do something..?"

Its not like shes not devastated by the loss, either. Shes the one who found her. She...

...cod, shes the one who dragged 4 into this.

If...if she didnt- shed still be-

How can she judge 3 for this? When she felt so similar? She looks at them now, usual steely expression replaced by this shattered face of guilt. Tears that have been streaming down their eyes for HOURS. Their voice, already so raspy on its own, barely made a sound as they again apologized to the machine for the hundredth time that afternoon.

Their body shook. Their already terrible hygene's gotten worse, too, for the last week. When did they last eat???

Callie's shaking whisper broke her out of her thoughts.

"Marie. What...what have we done to these kids?"

And 3s hugging this husk, leaning against it like a lifeline. They havent seen 4 for so long. And they- they were the reason she gave up.

Died under their command.

----------

Anyway... 3 with that husk is. Like Steven with Holo Pearl lmao, Treats it like its the real deal...

Speaking kinder words they never gave her when she was around them again. Giving her the warmth she needed. The company they never provided through the years.

Its...its the only softness they ever show before they clam up again. Whatever softness they have left after this, is hidden deep below an impenetrable shell. Unable to love again.

----------

Theyre only really doing it all when its already too late......lets all be glad 4 survived that ordeal.