#the last one was in a motel like the early seasons but this one is in the bunker from later seasons bc i couldn't decide lol

[angelbaby-fics]

Hi loving! Would you be willing to write something with cg!Dean and a little one who doesn’t feel great and just wants to lay on top of him all day. I had a bother surgery and I’ve been feeling this way but with no Dean :(

Love you💕💕

🐣

aww darling im sorry you're feeling icky, i hope this helps a bit 💕 153 words

dean felt a little guilty for loving days like this. its not that he enjoyed your suffering - far from it! seeing you in anguish broke his heart. but he had to admit that with all the chaos in his life, the days when he could just stay in one place and spend time with you were his favorites. you didn't have the energy to do very much that day, not even speak, so dean carried you around the bunker, letting you point in the direction you wanted to go. he brought you to the kitchen and poured you a big glass of orange juice while he toasted some bread for you, and let you sit in his lap while you feebly munched on it. when you were finished, he took you back to his room and buried you in all the cozy blankets he could gather, curling up with you as you rested.

you're invited to my summer tea party!

[reiderwriter]

Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out. 

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names. 

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect. 

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well. 

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room. 

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room. 

“I… read, I guess?” 

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?” 

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. 

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you. 

Because he definitely was. 

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray. 

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU. 

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier. 

“Hey  I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word. 

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching. 

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended. 

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.” 

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice. 

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all. 

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock. 

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?” 

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion. 

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was. 

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?” 

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”  

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand. 

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.” 

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock. 

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention. 

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial. 

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release. 

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him. 

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart. 

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes. 

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?” 

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody. 

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment. 

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes. 

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum. 

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy. 

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing. 

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still. 

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough,  you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker. 

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed. 

Until he went to prison. 

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking. 

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all. 

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before. 

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was. 

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together. 

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours. 

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore. 

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away. 

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure. 

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack. 

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to. 

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation. 

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there  on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” 

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger. 

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?” 

“I…I want you to touch me again.” 

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips. 

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders. 

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette. 

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear. 

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.” 

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you. 

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.” 

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features. 

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on. 

“Spencer? Look at me, please.” 

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him. 

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.” 

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace. 

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on. 

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again. 

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.” 

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth. 

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss. 

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again. 

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.” 

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.” 

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.” 

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands. 

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him. 

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back. 

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.” 

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously. 

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!” 

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock. 

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?” 

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!” 

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him. 

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me,  missed this.” 

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions. 

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.” 

“I'm not leaving.” 

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss. 

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom. 

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt. 

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question. 

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’ 

[nkplanet]

UNCONDITIONAL

sam x fem!reader ft. dean cw suggestive, little bit of angst, set sometime in the early seasons bc i love baby sam, reader is shorter than sam, switch sam my beloved wc 1014

summary sam can’t get enough of you notes whiny sam ib this scene from house of wax

when dean had left the two of you alone in a motel room for the night, he hadn’t imagined he’d wake up to sam alone and miserable.

and yet, there he was.

“where’s-”

“she’s gone, dean,” his brother had huffed, “long gone.”

he hadn’t prodded any further. you were one of sam’s many soft spots. a hunter yourself, you knew the risks of getting close to people. sam had thought that with both of you being hunters it would offer some reprieve, would allow you to open up to him and begin something, anything. he was almost desperate for you, but you left anyway, claiming it was too dangerous.

of course, he knew that most hunters isolated themselves. bobby and gordon sprang to mind immediately.

still, he had hope.

you saw each other again some months later. this time, you’d helped the boys on a case, sticking around long enough for sam to get to know you somewhat better. it frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t get further than the walls you’d built up, but he understood.

you hadn’t spent the night together the way you had three times before then, instead parting ways at sundown with a kiss that could have rivalled romeo and juliet. sam was addicted to your lips, your eyes, your body. you weren’t faring any better; sam’s body on yours and the noises he made played on your mind constantly.

and then: radio silence. once again.

even dean was beginning to worry about you. you normally checked in with them, especially after a tough case, but they’d heard nothing for weeks upon weeks.

that was, until you showed up at their motel door.

dean had ushered you in out of the rain immediately after taking the necessary precautions (read: splashing you with holy water). you were tired, a little bloodied, and soaked to the bone, but otherwise okay. he sat you on a bed and brought you a towel, allowing you a moment of peace before he threw questions at you.

“you’ve had sammy worry sick, y’know,” he said, giving you yet another once over.

“i know, i’m sorry. i’ve been on a long hunt. no cell service for weeks,” you said, wringing out your hair.

“and?”

“a werewolf clan. six of them. had to pick them off one by one and the last one chased me here. i killed it on the border of town and by then i had nothing. no supplies other than the clothes on my back and weapons in my hand and god knows what in my pockets,” you explained.

dean whistled. “so how’d you find us?”

“i called-” you started, as the door swung open. you tensed, immediately relaxing the second you saw a mop of brown hair atop a lanky frame.

“sammy,” you whispered.

sam’s head snapped to you, which dean took as his cue to leave.

“hey,” you said lamely, standing.

“where have you been?” sam said immediately. you could tell he was torn between being mad at you for disappearing and worried at your complete absence from the world.

“a hunt. it’s a long story. i had no cell service for two weeks,” you said, stood stock still. you didn’t want to startle the man in front of you, instead letting him come to you.

“i’ve missed you,” he all but whispered, closing the distance between you and putting his hands on your waist.

“i’m sorry,” you replied. he leaned down to kiss you, one hand coming up to cradle your neck.

your lips met, beginning slow but soon moving towards something more like hungry. you’d been starved of each other for too long, and sam didn’t intend to let you go this time. he chased your lips as you backed away for air, moving once again to the bed.

“that one’s dean’s,” sam said against your lips, directing you to his own bed. you giggled, making your way over and allowing sam to sit on his bed. you stood inbetween his legs, craning your neck down a little to kiss him more.

he slipped his tongue in your mouth, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you ran your hands across his broad shoulders, down his toned chest, as his own danced up and down your back, occasionally reaching your ass. he moved back towards the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. you straddled his thighs with your own, practically crawling to him. you looked down at him through half-lidded eyes as he looked at you, nothing but adoration on his face. you leaned in once more, connecting again.

sam’s hands travelled further, spreading across your waist and against your stomach, settling eventually underneath your thighs. yours migrated down, feeling his abs and oh so carefully brushing his obvious erection. at that, sam let out a whine, which he tried to stop almost immediately. you smirked at him.

“haven't heard that one before,” you said, teasing him.

he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, well, i was on top last time.”

“maybe we should do this more often then.”

sam’s response was to pull you in again, to which you let out a gasp, making him smile into the kiss. he ran his hand through your hair and you moaned, at which point dean chose to enter the room again.

“c’mon guys, i don’t wanna see that shit,” he complained dramatically, covering his eyes.

you sighed and rolled off sam’s lap. he pulled a pillow onto it in your place to hide the bulge in his jeans.

“don’t just barge in like that then,” sam retorted, obviously annoyed at his brother.

“‘s not my fault you two chose to get it on in our shared motel room!”

you rolled your eyes at their bickering, leaning down to get the towel you’d forgotten the minute you saw sam and using it to dry your hair. looking over at sam, you knew it would be hard to leave him again. you couldn’t stay forever - all three of you knew that - but maybe this time you could stay for longer.

[little-diable]

A dare to kiss - Tyler Owens (smut)

I'll keep on riding the Tyler train till my ideas run out. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been best friends for years. But after another storm season, she finally snaps and realises she can't be around him any longer, not when her feelings for him won't let go of her. But perhaps the feelings aren't unrequited as she fears.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), friends to lovers, idiots in love, some angst, but a very happy ending

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“How old are you? Stop it, Boone!” (Y/n)’s voice dripped with annoyance, eyes flickering from her friends and colleagues down to her drink. It had been their last day of chasing, saying goodbye to another season that had been filled with exciting but also horrible moments they all haven’t quite processed just yet.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s just a kiss!” Boone excitedly clapped his hands while he let his gaze wander from (y/n) to Tyler, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. They no longer knew who had started their annual game of truth and dare, passing a few hours where they got to spill secrets, fears, and do harmless dares to end the night with stomachs that hurt from laughing too much.

At least it had always been like that until this very dare, something that clearly went too far for her aching heart. Her feelings for Tyler were no secret, they all knew of the feelings she harboured for her best friend – all but Tyler, who obliviously chased other women while (y/n) was forced to suffer around him. 

“Give her another dare, Boone.” Tyler’s voice drew all eyes towards him, ripping their hope of finally being able to push the two of them together into shreds. They were too focused on Tyler to pick up on the hurt crossing her features. It was her own fault, she should have just kissed him, should have crossed the distance between them while the chance had been right there for her to grasp. A chance that had passed the second Tyler had spoken up.

“You know what, I’m tired anyway, I’ll head back to the motel.” She rose to her trembling feet, hands buried in the pockets of her jacket to hide the fists she had balled them into from their confused eyes. She didn’t wait for them to speak up, turned from them with an aching heart and allowed the darkness to swallow her while almost jogging back to her room. 

Even though (y/n) hated parting from the group, not wanting to leave them that early on their last evening together, she needed to be alone with her thoughts for a while. Staying this close to Tyler for the past weeks had been more exhausting than she had thought it would be, unable to endure his closeness any longer. She should look forward to returning home, to quiet hours where she won’t have to worry about hiding the feelings she hadn’t been able to let go of for the past years. 

The door to her room fell shut behind her, letting the silence wrap itself around (y/n) while she wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Curses rumbled through her, she felt as if she was drowning, unable to breathe while the room closed in on her. Her body started moving without listening to her mind's command. She threw all her stuff into her bag, hastily reaching for her things as her vision grew more blurry. 

She needed to get away, needed to make it home, she couldn’t stand being around him for another minute. She left the room with her heart in her throat, forced to a sudden halt before she could collide with Dexter. His hands shot out to catch her should she fall, drawing her tear stained features up towards him. 

“Oh, (y/n). What’s going on?” She let her head fall against his chest, searching the closeness of the man who had always treated her like his daughter, the first one she had told her feelings for Tyler to. A sob wrecked through her, forcing him to tighten his hold on her to keep (y/n) close. 

“I need to leave, I can’t do this any longer, Dexter. Here, this is my room key.” She pushed the key into his hand, trusting him to take care of checking her out in the morning. His hand ran up and down her spine in a comforting manner, set on soothing the pain she felt all too clearly. Another sob left (y/n) before she stepped out of the embrace. “Tell the others I’m sorry and that I’ll reach out soon.”

(Y/n) squeezed his hand one last time, trying to put on a soft smile for the man who stared down at her with pity swimming in his pupils. She felt his eyes on her as she jogged towards her truck, set on driving through the night to make it home before the sun would paint the horizon in bleeding colours.

……

“Hey, it’s me again. It’s been a while, and I really need to see you, (y/n). We need to talk, call me back, please.” 

She woke to new voice messages every single day since leaving a few weeks ago. At first Tyler had voiced out his disappointment and confusion, not understanding why she had left him just like that. And then the sadness had entered the picture, begging (y/n) to call him back because he missed her and was sorry for whatever he had done to her. And now his voice no longer carry any emotions, monotonous and unfamiliar without any nicknames he’d normally use. 

(Y/n) knew it was time for her to finally reach out to him, to bury her own sadness and her embarrassment and to call her best friend, if she could still call him that. Her hands shook as she clicked onto his contact, listening to it ring five times before he answered with a whisper of her name. 

“Hi,” no further word managed to leave her. She listened to him exhale, shuffle around before speaking up.

“Are you at home today? I’d come round to see you.” A part of her screamed at her to say no, knowing that she shouldn't meet him at home, the one place where she had managed to focus on her feelings, giving her space to think about them properly. But the stronger part knew it would be less awkward to see him here than somewhere else where they could easily run into fans. 

“I am.” His hum shot shudders down her spine, forcing her to fist the blanket she had tossed over her cold legs. 

“I’ll be over around three, see you then.” He ended the call before another word could leave her. Her stomach was churning, not used to his cold voice and how he spoke to her as if she was a business contact or a stranger almost. 

(Y/n) let her phone drop into her lap while she sank further into her couch. What would she even tell Tyler? She wasn’t ready for his rejection, wasn’t ready to mess up what was still remaining of their friendship. Even though she couldn’t stand being close to him for longer than a few hours, (y/n) also knew that life without Tyler by her side wasn’t worth living. 

……

“There you go.” She pushed the coffee towards Tyler who was leaning against the kitchen island, right across from her. His eyes followed her every move, ever since a rather awkward hug and exchanged pleasantries that felt as if they didn’t know one another at all. He shot her a grateful smile before taking a sip, not letting his gaze leave her nervous features once. “How are you?”

“Cut the bullshit, (y/n). Wanna tell me why my best friend ran from me and then decided to ghost me for the past weeks?” Her heart sank, letting her guilt settle deep inside her stomach. Her eyes found interest in studying her trembling hands, not daring to get lost in Tyler’s angry expression. 

“I’m sorry, I was just so exhausted with it all. I needed some time away.” A humourless laugh clawed through Tyler, a sound that finally forced her eyes back towards him. 

“You’ve never been good at lying. What is this really about, huh? Why did the others all seem to understand what’s going on, but you couldn’t tell me?” His voice carried his hurt, dripping with sadness and anger she also felt flushing through her system. 

“It's nothing you need to worry-“ the sound of his palm coming down on her kitchen island interrupted her, forcing her pupils to widen as he shook his head at her. It felt as if she was looking at a stranger, not once had she seen Tyler this hurt and angry, never directed at her at least.

“Just be honest, (y/n)! I’m supposed to be your best friend, or is this what this all is about? Do you no longer want to be-“ now it was on her to interrupt him.

“It’s because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” And then they were engulfed by nothing but silence. The seconds faded by, turning into almost a full minute of Tyler just staring at her with an unreadable expression. It seemed as if he was combing through his every moment with her, reliving all the past years to figure out how he could have missed this. His silence forced her lips to part again, knowing that she needed to say some more. 

“I tried to let go of it, I really did. But being around you made it impossible for me. I am sorry, I just needed some time alone. And then that dare, I wanted to kiss you so badly, but it would have been my end, and I couldn’t risk losing that last shred of sanity I had in me.” Her whispers lured Tyler closer, letting her watch him round the kitchen island to come to a halt in front of her. 

“Look at me, darling.” Her heart skipped a beat at the use of the nickname, taking some fear from her trembling body. Slowly she raised her gaze, looking up at him with glassy eyes as he cupped her cheeks with his big hands. “I’m sorry it took me this long to see it, but I was quite occupied with hiding my own feelings from you.”

Tyler’s words left her frozen, staring at him with confusion laced in her gaze. Her mind was racing, letting his words sink in to understand what he had just told her. A soft chuckle rumbled through him, “Will you let me kiss you? No dare this time.” 

She shifted her weight onto her toes, letting her lips collide with his. Tyler instantly replied to the touch, kissing (y/n) breathless while his hands moved down her sides. She deepened the kiss with a soft moan clawing through her, allowing his tongue to meet hers. Both their hearts were racing, pounding in their chests as if they had just returned from another chase, losing themselves in the adrenaline that still buzzed through them. 

Tyler parted from her for a moment, hands wandering down her thighs to pick her up and place her down on the kitchen island. For the first time since she had started being with partners, she truly felt weightless, trusting Tyler fully with whatever he had in mind. Slowly, he connected their lips again, kissing her to stop her racing thoughts from overthinking what was about to happen.

“Do you want this? Do you want to be touched by me?” His voice was raspy, deeper than it had been before - details that made her walls flutter in excitement. 

“Please, touch me, Tyler.” The hum he let go of was drowned out by her gasp as he pushed her back down on the kitchen island, feeling his wandering hands find their way to her pair of shorts. He pulled the fabric down her legs, panties following moments later to expose her lower body to his piercing eyes.

“What a beautiful sight, it was worth waiting for all these years.” Heat rose up her neck, spurred on by his praises. Carefully he touched her, letting his fingers brush through her slit, spreading her arousal on her skin. Goosebumps littered her body as if she was trapped in a cold room, unable to stop shaking. And yet her body was burning up, set ablaze by his touch. 

“I need to taste you, can I, baby?” Nothing but a moaned “yes” left (y/n). His tongue felt rough against her pulsing bundle, letting the sensation zap through her aching body like lighting. She tried to find something to hold on to, and yet her fingers could only wander to his head to tug on his almost golden roots. 

“Jesus fuck, why haven’t we done this sooner?” (Y/n)’s words left Tyler chuckling against her heat. The sound vibrated on her skin, pushing her even closer towards the edge.

“Seems like I ain’t doing my job well enough if you can still speak.” He was urging himself to move his tongue quicker while pushing two fingers into her heat. Her walls clenched around his fingers, drawing him even closer in while her orgasm crept closer and closer. A moan clawed through (y/n), letting it reverberate through the air as Tyler sucked on her pulsing bundle. 

“Atta girl, I got you, pretty.” He comforted her, cozied her along to finally push her over the edge. His name left her parted lips like a prayer, unable to think of any other thing to say as she felt the blinding sensation wander up her limbs. (Y/n) came without a warning, back arched off the cold kitchen island top. 

Tyler kept lapping at her folds to guide her through her high before he pressed one last kiss to her inner thigh. He moved up her body, hands stroking their way up her sides until he cupped her warm cheeks to pull her in for a kiss. 

“I love you, darling, and I promise to make up for all the time we’ve lost.” 

[star-wrote]

Pretty Little Distraction

ao3 link

Characters: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader | Early Seasons

Summary: After boring yourself while researching lore, you decide Sam needs a well-deserved break.

Warnings: SMUT, reader wears a slip dress and thigh highs, cussing, oral (fem! receiving), dirty talk (but it’s nice bc Sammy), P in V, slight breeding k!nk, dean interrupts, allusions to aftercare, established relationship

A/N: okay so sam winchester LOVES thigh highs. if you have any sam winchester requests, ideas, or even thoughts feel free to send them in! i’m completely obsessed with him at the moment! <3

Word Count: 2079

18+

(lace divider from @strangergraphics )

Researching lore was fun at first; cracking open the books and the laptops, diving headfirst into the realm of mythology and folklore, and even the crappy vending machine snack breaks. However, after three hours of nonstop eyestrain, it became downright boring.

“Saaaam,” you whined as you shut your laptop harder than you should’ve, “I need to do something else, I’m going insane.”

Sam didn’t look up from his laptop, used to your usual begging for a break. He knows that you have a different stamina than he does when it comes to research. He’s been doing it his whole life, not to mention the hours of studying in college.

You let out an exaggerated sigh at his lack of attention, which earned you an annoyed glance from your boyfriend sitting across the rickety motel table. When his gaze returned to the apparently very important information on his laptop, you abruptly stood up, cracked your back, and flopped face down onto the bed you shared with Sam.

Remembering two hours ago, when Dean clocked out of research after only an hour, you thought about how unfair it was that he got to go out and have fun at the local bar while you and Sam were stuck doing more research in the motel room. You and Sam deserved to have fun too! Especially Sam, who has been more stressed on this case than usual due to the high amount of deaths. If you haven’t found a solution yet, you probably weren’t going to find one tonight.

You lifted your head from the cheap comforter as an idea popped into your head. Quickly, you grabbed your bag and headed for the bathroom without even a glance from Sam.

After five minutes of putting your outfit on, you looked in the mirror. Your body was hugged with a short, cream colored slip dress. A knitted pair of thigh highs with lace trim adorned your legs. It wasn’t over the top lingerie, but that’s exactly why Sam found it sexy.

A shiver ran through you as you recalled the last time you wore thigh highs in bed with Sam. You were about to take them off with the rest of your clothes, but he had caught your hand and begged you to keep them on. He spent an eternity between your thighs that night, the lace trim tickling his skin in the most perfect way.

You took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, leaving your insecurities behind you. Sam was right where you left him, sitting in the wooden chair that was way past its expiration date. Except this time, his eyes immediately find you standing in the doorway like it was some kind of picture frame.

His lips part as he trails his vision down your body, stopping on your thighs and the lace that appears at the top of your knee. You smile as you slowly walk over to him and stand between his legs that automatically widen for you.

“I must’ve fallen asleep,” he says as he leans into your palm that cups his cheek, “I’m dreaming.”

You giggle as you pinch his cheek and whisper, “Nope, wide awake.”

He smiles in response and runs his hands down your waist to your hips.

“Then maybe I died and went to heaven since I’m seeing an angel.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull him in for a kiss. He breathes out through his nose as he cups the back of your head. You pull back from his lips and kiss his nose.

“You needed a break, I had to pull you away.”

He looks back to his laptop for a second, hesitating only slightly before closing it.

“How could I resist such a pretty little distraction?”

You gasp in fake shock. “You really think I’m pretty?”

His lips quirk up. “The prettiest… now come here.”

He pulls you closer by your waist, and lifts you like a feather for you to straddle his lap. His lips are back on yours in an instant, but not for long as he trails his kisses down to your jaw and to your neck, brushing back your hair for easier access. He gently sucks on your pulse point. Not enough to leave a mark, (though he desperately wants to) but enough to make you let out a small moan at the feeling.

Sam chuckles into your neck at your reaction and starts to rock your hips into the bulge slowly growing in his jeans. You bite into his shoulder and pull on the waves of his hair near his neck. He comes up from your neck and lets out a low groan as he rocks you harder against him.

Suddenly, you hear the chair below you start to squeak in rhythm with your grinding. Before you stop, Sam whispers in your ear, “Ignore it.”

You keep moving your hips, but the squeaking grows louder and the chair starts to sway with each thrust.

“Sam,” you giggle out, “I think we’re going to break this goddamn chair.”

Sam stops moving your hips and lets out another groan, this time an annoyed one. He chuckles as he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“Fine,” he says as he stands up from the chair with you clutching onto him. “To the bed then.”

He walks the two steps it takes for his long legs to reach the foot of the bed, kisses the top of your head, and then tosses you onto the mattress.

You land with a loud laugh but quickly direct your attention back to Sam, who was taking his shirt off at the end of the bed. He smirks as he sees you bite your lower lip at the sight of his bare upper body. His eyes run down your body, stopping on your thigh highs once again while he unbuckles his belt.

You bend your knees and allow your legs to fall apart, revealing a sight of no panties under your slip dress to Sam. His breathing grows heavier as he zeros in on the new surprise that you just exposed to him.

Once his pants and boxers have joined his shirt on the floor, he kisses your ankle. Then your shin. The little scar on your knee. Multiple kisses up your inner thigh.

He fully lays down on the bed and peels your slip dress up your hips, leaving the small amount of fabric bunched around your waist. He lifts your covered thighs over his broad shoulders; a position all too familiar.

He blows out a cold current of air onto your glistening pussy and you welcome a shudder of anticipation to flow through your body. Hazel eyes that looked more brown in this moment than gold, green, or blue met your own eyes. Those same puppy dog eyes watch you as he licks a stripe up your slit. His eyes close as he tastes you for the first time tonight. It had been too long.

Sam immediately gets to work on eating you out. His hands fiddle with the lace trim of your thigh highs while his tongue laps up the wetness that you produce for him. His eyes stay closed, brows furrowed, and his hips start gently thrusting into the mattress below him, causing you to moan out at the scene unfolding in front of you. All because of you.

Because of you, Sam is almost drowning in between your legs. And because of him, you’re gushing.

Your climax arrives too quickly. It always does with Sam. The feeling of pure sin washes over you as you gasp out Sam’s name with a collection of “thank you’s.” He only stops after your legs relax around his head. He leaves a kiss on your puffy clit and quickly moves up your body to kiss your lips.

“I need to feel you, angel,” Sam breathes out between rushed kisses.

You nod as you whisper out, “Please?”

He smiles against your lips. “So polite.”

You can feel him reach a hand down to his cock, stroking it once before pressing into you.

Sam was always gentle during this moment. He has to know that he’s big. He slowly gives you inch by inch, instructing you to breathe when he gets down to the last few. He lets out a groan as he buries himself fully to the hilt.

He pauses to let you get used to him as he kisses all around your face, ever the sweetheart.

“Don’t think I tell you enough how much I like these.” Sam snaps the lace of the thigh highs against your skin, leaving a pleasant burn.

“I kinda figured it out last time.” You clench around his length at the thought. “You were so hot, Sam. You always are.”

He laughs breathlessly. “You’re getting riled up, baby.”

He slowly pulls his length out, and even more slowly pushes it back in.

“Sam…fuck.” You let out the loudest moan of the night.

“There she is.” He grunts as his thrusts get more forceful.

You wrap your arms around his neck and moan into his ear, begging him to give you more. And of course he does, because it’s Sam. He gives you anything you ask for.

“Fuck, angel. I’m so deep.” Sam brings his hand down to press on your lower stomach, making you moan. “You feel that, baby?”

You could almost cry at the feeling of him so deep inside of you. You wish he would stay inside of you forever. You wish that you could become one.

The hand that was pressing on your belly goes lower and starts circling your sensitive clit. Your hands grab handfuls of the bedsheets under you as Sam gives you more and more pleasure with every passing second.

Sam’s other hand pulls down the loose strap of your slip dress and kisses the newly exposed skin of your collarbone area. He pulls the dress down even further to free your nipple, which he swiftly licked and then took into his mouth.

You brought a hand to his head and pulled back on his hair, directing his mouth to yours for a sloppy kiss. The pace of his thrusts quickened, causing the bed to squeak on its four wooden legs and hit the wall every so often. The sound didn’t even register to either of you who were so lost in each other.

“M’ close, baby,” Sam grunts out, his accent growing thicker. “M’ gonna cum deep inside of you, honey.”

You moaned at his words. “Please, Sammy. Need you to fill me up.”

Those words caused Sam to bury himself deep inside of you, let out the lowest groans, and release in your tight walls.

The feeling of his hot cum shooting into you triggered your second and final orgasm of the night. This time, you press your lips to Sam’s again; more panting into each other’s mouths than a kiss.

Sam falls into your arms, and you welcome the weight of the giant man on top of you. You comb your fingers through his hair as his thumb traces circles into your hips. You both soak in the feeling of complete love for each other.

Suddenly, the door opens as a drunk Dean walks in with his hand over his eyes. “Jeez you guys, I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Could hear you from down the hall.”

You burst out laughing as Sam yells at Dean to get out.

Dean turns around and pulls the door shut as he yells over his shoulder, “Get dressed so I can sleep, you freaks!”

You giggle at the bitch face that Sam couldn’t hide. Your thumbs automatically gravitate to his face to smooth out the grumpy lines between his eyebrows.

“Every time!” You say, referring to Dean interrupting your post-sex cuddles.

Sam smiles. “Maybe we should put a sock on the door next time.”

You giggle and give an alternative solution, “Or, a sign that says if the bed’s rockin’ don’t come knockin’ jerk.”

Sam smiles and gets up from you, putting his hand out for you to grab. “Come on, let’s get dressed.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can walk.” You take his hand anyway, just to hold it.

He wastes no time in picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom where your bag still sat. “I’ll take care of you.”

You were sure he could see the cartoon heart eyes that you made for him.

“You always do.”

[abstractvanity32]

Season 3

Random TF Blurb - Wife’s Revenge

Tiffany was raddled. She found out for the last 7 months, her husband has been cheating on her. So she decided to use this concoction on her husband. It was an old cursed potion her mother and grandmother taught her when she was young.

Before her husband Pete went off for his “late-night” office run, she slipped the potion into his coffee as he drank it Tiffany watched with anticipation but nothing happened. Did she get something wrong?

Pete just smirked and went off to the dingy motel he and his mistress Chloe always went too. Chloe was in her early 20s and embraced Pete. What Tiffany didn’t know was the curse was gonna have the weirdest effects for Pete’s night.

The duo went into the room, and Chloe went into the bathroom to freshen up. She felt a strangeness in her skirt. She looked down to see her thong has become a pair of white briefs.

Within seconds that felt like minutes, Chloe began to grow and expand. Her height towered to 6’5. Her feet bursted through her heels as she had to rebalance herself as she saw them thicken and widen until they were large size 15 feet.

Her hair shortened and face chiseled as she just watched in complete terror. Her breasts vanished, as her chest toned and her shirt ripped off. He quickly took off his skirt leaving him just in his briefs. He looked in awe, as there was something stirring in his head.

His mind was changing as he looked at his face continuing to change and get more masculine. His torso formed lean muscle, as his hands thickened. Body hair grew lightly on his body, as Carrington looked back with a smirk.

Carrington was a devious male prostitute who liked to rob the older men who picked him up. Pete was getting impatient on the other side of the room. Weirdly he didn’t hear one thing of Chloe’s struggled.

“Babe. You ready” he said annoyed.

Carrington then came out of the bathroom. His toned body just in briefs, and now taller then Pete.

“Who the fuck are you?” Pete asked.

“Doesn’t matter dad” Carrington smirked, as he quickly manhandled Pete. Pete tried to put up a fight but before he knew it, he had a bloody nose and was robbed by the almost naked man.

Later that night Pete came back fucked up from this encounter. He explained to Tiffany an outlandish story of being jumped but Tiffany knew this was the potion working. She did wonder if he’d ever tell her the truth and what actually happened to that mistress Chloe.

[beelmons]

I have a filthy idea and I love your blog sorry

Hotch x reader x Early seasons!Spencer (or really any older BAU with reader and Spencer, someone has to show him the ropes, right?😩)

Reader is bound and blindfolded. Hotch is trailing a popsicle over reader's skin, showing Spencer where they are most sensitive and Spencer licks the trail of sticky syrup left behind. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️(lord have mercy I'm a whore)

A/N: Ok so, i really got into this idea and i ended up doing WAY too much and i'm sorry it's so late but i got too excited. anyways, have this monstruosity.

A different kind of teacher

cw: sensory deprivation (hand binding, blindfold, noise-cancelling headphones), threesome, temprature play (use of frozen goods), fellatio, fem!reader, implied polyamory i guess

word count: 1,996 (on accident)

"I don't think that's—" Spencer tried to interrupt when his boss's actions got questionable.

"It's alright." Hotch answered as he gently tied the blindfold behind your head "She's done this before. I told you, if you’re going to learn how to please her, you’re going to do it my way."

"But that's—" he tried to argue again.

"Reid." Aaron said commandingly.

Their bickering was rather amusing, really. Everything about this situation was. A love-struck puppy, namely Spencer, that had found  out you were having an affair, for a lack of a better word, with your boss. Who was later given the odd offer to join in, one that he barely comprehended the dynamic of. The one he ended up accepting because having half of you was better than having none.

The situation in question was no other than your bare body binded to a sex sofa, yes, the one with a funny oval-like shape, in the middle of a street motel. Mind you, a high category one, courtesy of a very spoiling unit chief. Hands tied behind the furniture, a blindfold securely tied against your eyes, and a pair of sound-canceling headphones that would be eventually put on you. 

“I don’t think I can do this.” the younger man confessed. 

His superior shot him a glare, and his finger raised to press against his own lips, indicating the other to keep quiet. He then proceeded to place the aforementioned gadget against your ears to muffle the sounds. 

“You can’t let your nerves overtake you.” Aaron began to talk, walking closer to the chair where Spencer was sitting “Otherwise, you won’t enjoy yourself. And believe me, she wants you to have as much fun as she does.” 

“I just have never done something remotely similar.” he admitted. 

“And that’s okay, that’s why I’m here to guide you.” Hotch patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to stand up, to which Reid complied. 

As the older man directed himself to the cooler, included with the room by the way, Spencer stood awkwardly next to where you were laying. Regardless of his statements about the situation, the twitching of his dick as he watched you breathing, rather heavily, blissfully ignorant of the sinful deeds they were about to do to you, was giving away just how much into it he was. 

“You should learn to use your tongue first.” the boss interrupted his train of thought “We’re going to do a little exercise, okay? I’ll trail this over her skin, her most sensitive spots. Clean her up. You have to be thorough, she doesn’t like feeling sticky.” 

You were absolutely deprived of such supportive conversation, or anything else for that matter. It was exciting in and on itself to be expectant of what would happen next, along with no indication whatsoever of what that would be. Two, insanely hot, men having you at their entire disposal was certainly arousing. 

Such anticipation caused you to moan rather loudly when you felt a cold object hit the side of your neck, slowly melting down towards the base, the feeling only lasted a couple of seconds since it was shortly after contrasted with the warm sensation of what you figured was a tongue following the strip. 

It was quick. It left your skin as soon as it came.

The lack of attention, though, would not last long. You felt a new sting of coldness, only this time it was right over your breast; instead of dripping down, the same tool, whatever it was, moved downwards until it reached your nipple. You could feel it going slightly numb from the temperature, it was making your stomach tighten. Again, you felt it part and something a lot hotter took its place. This time, you could easily tell who was taking advantage of your breasts by the bony structure of the fingers. 

Spencer was ravishing on the sweet taste of the icicle mixed with the salty notes of your sweat. His tongue was eager and clumsy, but pleasurable nonetheless, his fingers gentle and attentive to the sides of the skin, holding back to not let his animalistic side just come out. 

“That’s good.” Hotch praised the young man “It’s all about not knowing what to expect. About surprising her with sudden pleasure.” 

Back in your deprived state, you were simply squirming with delight at how your chest was being treated, mouth slightly agape to allow soft sounds of pleasure to escape. The gap was tempting for one of the men, still unknown to you, to defile, and suddenly you felt something land over your lips. You recognized the mixture of freezing water and sugar, and your tongue instinctively darted out to take a lick. 

The treat instead began to lewdly penetrate your mouth, simulating a fellatio, and the length of it would teasingly near the back of your throat each time. 

The icicle departed promptly, leaving your lips parted and tingly from the coldness, expectant to be inserted again. Instead, the temperature of the new foreign object was the complete opposite, its structure soft to an extent, and salty in flavor. It didn't take you long to notice it was no longer the sugary dessert, but one of your partners' cock.

"Go slow at first, it takes her a second to get used to it." Hotch dragged a hand behind your head, pushing forward gently so you could get more of his shaft into your mouth “But she can take it very well.” 

His fingers trailed over your scalp lovingly. His moans were translated in heavy, airy exhales through his nose. He was obviously playing tough for Spencer, no matter how much your mouth actually disarranged him on the daily. He thrusted a couple more times, until he was fully hard, before he pulled out. 

He made a signal with his hand to indicate the younger to take over, and Reid swallowed back a knot of nervousness. He awkwardly cupped your head between his palms and allowed his tip to testingly land on your tongue. He shuddered with pleasure as your lips hungrily wrapped around it, hollowing your cheeks almost immediately. 

You could tell the member had changed simply by the shape. Leaner girth, more swollen head, and an almost desperate way of moving. He started doubtfully at first, and later his pace began to pick up. His grip on your head was tight, making you unable to move away, and with every push he would reach deeper into your mouth, and the pulsations on his veins would also have a stronger beat. 

Spencer was losing it, mouth parted open, head thrown back, desperate whines spilling from his throat. His inexperience was his biggest enemy, because he didn’t last much inside of you. When he started to feel his orgasm coming, he decided to pull away. His fist curled around his shaft, pumping the base at a rapid speed, his tip pointing to his own stomach, since, to him, coming inside your mouth seemed dirty, almost too humiliating. 

Hotch stared with amusement at how respectful he was being, rookie mistake, he figured. Too overwhelmed with his own pleasure, Spencer had his eyes fully shut, and became absolutely unaware of the second Aaron gently placed his fingers over the moving hand, pushing it down to aim the tip towards your mouth. 

You simply waited for the inevitable, the white strings landing on your tongue, salty and thick, and a lot more than you had expected. When you were sure no more would come out, you attempted to swallow, but before you could close your mouth a thumb invaded it, keeping it open. 

“Watch this magic trick.” Aaron showed Spencer the evidence of his release before shutting your mouth again. 

You took the hint and swallowed, immediately opening your mouth once again to show no trace of the substance left. 

Spencer had to bring a hand to his face to hide his blush, although his again half-hard dick gave him away. 

“That’s actually really hot.” he said shyly, brows furrowed in embarrassment. 

“It is.” Hotch smiled in his direction “Now that you’ve come, it’s just natural to return the favor, don’t you agree?” 

The older man directed himself again to the cooler, taking now a single ice cube that he held with a piece of clothing to avoid getting frostbite. 

“Your training isn’t over yet.” he told Spencer once he was back to your side “Next, let’s get you a real challenge. If one drop of this cube gets on the sofa, you don’t get to touch her the rest of the night.” 

“W-What? Isn’t that a bit harsh?” he complained. 

“If you make her cum before it fully melts,” Hotch ignored the protest “You can fuck her first.” 

Again, your senses were too limited to hear their bet being formed. During their exchanges you just waited patiently, eager to know what would come next. Every once in a while, when the cool air hit you, you tensed up expecting something to happen, and even when it didn’t you just got more excited. 

At last, another sting of coldness hit your skin, this time it was further to the south, just above your clit. You could feel the object slowly melting, the lack of heat spreading to your bundle of nerves, your labia, and almost to your entrance. It was mildly uncomfortable, but exciting nonetheless. 

Out of a sudden, you felt a muscle enter you. You bolted in ecstasy due to finally getting much needed friction on your lower body. It trailed up, slowly and steady, until it reached the top. The lips rounded your sensitive nub, and you could feel them suck on it. The sensation was overwhelming, making you twist over the sofa, shameless erotic moans filling up the room. 

The water kept making its way down your sex, and the tongue diligently prevented it from reaching all the way to the leather, driving you insane with each lap at it. Your hands struggled against the binds that tied you down. You wanted nothing more than to hold his head down and bury it against you, to have him flush against your entrance, just licking you over and over again. 

A hand landed on your head, indicating that you should keep your movements to yourself. The commanding ambience just added to your stimulation, the mouth down your body sucking the neverending stream of water as if trying to lick it dry. Your thighs attempted to close around his head, and you were finally able to grind against him. For some reason, that did it for you, and you allowed your climax to reach you, and your fluids to come out. 

“Impressive.” Hotch praised as he removed the ice cube from your body. 

Spencer, however, did not stop, his tongue moving ruthlessly against your entrance, absolutely drunk on your taste. Aaron could see you squirm uncomfortably, being pushed to a point of overstimulation, hands restlessly clinging onto nothing in an attempt to release the slight pain on your abused clit. 

“Reid.” he called trying to make him stop; the younger man, however, was entranced by your pussy, and did not react to the mention of his name. Hotch was forced to step closer, tangle his fingers on the blond’s hair, and pull his head back by tugging on his locks, forcing him away from you “Behave. There’s plenty of time for more later.” 

He spoke so sternly that it sent shivers down Spencer’s spine, almost as he did during work cases. He nodded with compliance and straightened himself again. 

“Sorry.” Reid ashamedly said. 

“It’s alright. I know how addicting it can be.” while talking, he rummaged through a go-bag he had brought earlier into the room. “Now,” he tossed a condom towards Spencer “Get ready for lesson number two.”

[uncouth-the-fifth]

here is my collection of sam and dean winchester reader-inserts 🧛‍♂️👻 enjoy!

Baby I'll Stay (Heaven Can Wait) (witch glamors, fluff, motel smut)

On a hunt with Sam and Dean, your childhood friends and long-term hunting partners, you choose to play bait in order to kill a powerful witch. Thing is, the witch uses a glamor that masks him as the seer's perfect partner—and to you, he looks exactly like Sam.

(You Are A) Natural, Baby (virgin Sam, pure impala sex lol)

part one (oral): You played your fingers on the wheel. Bent over it, squinting at the rain. Slumped back in your seat. All the while, Sam watched you go through the motions passively. He already knew what you knew: you'd have to camp here for the night. Just the two of you. Alone.

part two (oral, sex): “No wonder you’re so wet,” Sam rasps, “you’re already close, aren’t you?” You conceded with a pathetic nod, breathing hard. “All this just from blowing me…” Sam smirks.

Playing House (fake dating + couples cruise) for @daiziesssart

part one: You rolled around everything you wanted to explain to him in your head, but none of it sounded right. Somehow, you landed on: “You think it’s gonna be weird, pretending to be married?” Sam shrugged. “We did it all the time when we were kids, playin’ house.” He closed the zipper of his boot, flashing you an innocent smile. “Can’t be that different, right?"

part two: “My name is _____ Patton,” you introduce in your smoothest, surest voice, “and this is my amazing husband Sam. We’ve been married for…” “—three weeks now,” Sam finishes for you.

Click (first time + cozy winter cabin aesthetic) for @daffodil-mania

“I’m just wondering,” Sam winces, knowing his question is stupid, “why are you still a virgin?” You’re about to laugh in his face, but the earnestness in Sam’s voice makes you hesitate. His question is a genuine one. “...That sounds awful, m’ sorry. But, c’mon. You’re smart enough to know how pretty you are. Charmin’ enough to use it, too. I mean, I’d…” He caught himself. “—Anyone, would, uh…” Sam didn’t finish his thought. He changed his grip on the shotgun swinging from his hand, self-conscious, and cleared his throat. Well. That wasn’t obvious at all. No way in hell you were leaving that alone.

Click, p.2 (angsty love confession sex + season five) for @daffodil-mania

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things. You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?” Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

Mandy Davis, you punk ass bitch (birthday fluff for the boy!!!)

You wake up early to make sure you're the first person to wish Sam a happy birthday—since he's basically never had one before.

One of These Nights (cheating-but-not actually angst + Impala makeup sex) for @lacilou

“S’ a good night,” Dean tells you, beaming, “we can do another round, right?” “Hell yeah,” you shrug, and raise your empty glass, “Here’s to alcohol poisoning, baby.” “Yeah,” Dean echoes, almost slurring. “Baby."

[lanitalay]

Supernatural

Azriel Supernatural AU x reader

Summary: In which you encounter a couple of hunters during a case. 

A/N: I've been rewatching supernatural and i just love it. This is based on the early seasons. Hopefully the ACOTAR and Supernatural fandoms overlap.

Warnings: mentions of blood and death, nothing descriptive.

wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

“It’s totally vampires, Az. Remember that nest we took out in Idaho? They did the same thing with their victims.” Azriel bites his lip recalling that hunt, it was in the top ten worst moments of his life. “I know you’re right but those things give me the creeps. The way their fangs just-” he gags thinking about the extra set of teeth. 

“You big baby, it's just teeth. What gets me is the decapitation. Ghosts are easy. Salt. Fire. But these suckers are a nasty job.” You look over your notes before asking “do you think Cass and Rhys could give us a hand? I think we’ll be outnumbered.” 

He shakes his head “we could call but last time we talked they were up to their necks on a vengeful spirit case. Get this, the bones are scattered in different places because the deceased couldn’t decide where to be buried.” You chuckle. “Those two always get caught up in something like that. What about Mor? Or Amren? I’ll call them just in case.” 

Two phone calls later and no back up to show for it. “That was a bust.” Azriel nudges your arm. “Hey, we can do this. We can figure out a way to take them out one at a time.” You sigh and lean your head against the window. Watching as endless fields blur into one another. “You’re right, wake me up when we get there will you?” Before he can say yes you’ve dozed off. 

The road to Texas was long and lonely for Azriel. You slept the whole way and he was forced to keep himself company with mindless humming and singing lyrics from songs he probably misremembers. You’re usually the dj, but he knows if he messes with your tapes he’s in deep shit. You arrive at the usual dingy motel at around midnight. 

“Hey, sleepy head, we’re here.” Az is careful not to startle you, slightly shaking your arm with a scarred hand to rouse you from sleep without setting off your hunter instincts. “I’m awake.” You mumble but don’t move to get out of the truck. “I’ll go get us a room, while you wake up.” A hum is the only response he gets. 

When he returns he sees you unloading the truck with a pep in your step. “We’re in 9.” Once you’ve settled in, it dawns on you that you took a six hour nap on the ride here. There’s no way you’ll be able to fall asleep now. “Az, you want something to eat?” He yawns “no thanks, I’m going to turn in for the night.” 

“Well I’m not tired. I’ll grab a bite at that bar across the street and come back.” You put on your jacket and make the short walk to the hole in the wall establishment that always seems to accompany the motels you frequent. “One beer and a burger, please.” It 's quiet. You assume that it’s because it’s Tuesday. Until you overhear the conversation from two guys at the bar. “Six people went missing and all of them were last seen here, Sammy, something’s up.” 

“I know, Dean, but we’ve been here a week and no one can point us in the right direction. Maybe they left.” Hunters, and by the sounds of it, they are on the same case.  The bartender sets a pint in front of you, when it’s in your hand you walk over. “Are you two looking for a vampire nest?” They seem to have a language of their own, exchanging a few glances before the one with blondish hair says “depends, who’s asking?”

“Y/n, my partner and I just got into town after hearing about six disappearances. Looks like you two got a head start.” You sit with them in a shadowy corner of the bar as they tell you about the roadblocks they’ve encountered. “Most of them came here without telling anybody they knew, they weren’t regulars.” The taller one with brown hair finishes. 

“So they were lured.” They nod. “It’s been quiet since we got here.” You finish the burger and wipe your fingers with the thinnest napkin you’ve ever seen. “They got six people in two weeks, that’s enough blood to keep a nest alive for a month.” But something’s off and you can tell they feel it too. “What were your names again?” 

“I’m Sam.” “I’m Dean.” No way.

 “Winchester?” They nod. 

“That’s crazy! I knew your father! It’s sort of how I got started in all of this actually-” you stop yourself, John is dead now and these were his sons “I’m sorry for your loss, he helped a lot of people.” Az is going to freak when you tell him. Dean swigs his beer and says “yeah well, that’s what happens when you make deals with devils.” 

It’s tense for a bit while you finish your beer “well, if you don’t mind it, my partner and I could help on the case. Four machetes are better than two. We’re staying right across the street. Room 9. See ya, boys.” 

The next morning you tell Azriel about your encounter. “I’m telling you Az, they seem nice enough. If we team up it will be safer.” He’s unsure, always wary of strangers. “I don’t know, y/n-” just then, a knock at the door. You check the peephole before opening it. “Hi guys, this is my partner Azriel. Az, this is Sam and that's Dean.” The brothers brought coffee, by the looks of it it’s from the prehistoric machine in the lobby. “We talked about it and we agreed, working together will speed things along.” 

“Az?” He sighs. “Fine.” 

“He’s chipper,” Dean quips. “He’s not a morning person,” you quickly defend. You were the only one allowed to comment on his crankiness. 

After a day of following dead ends, you sit with Dean at the same bar. Sam and Az are still trying to find something in the archives. “So what’s the deal with you and your partner?” 

“Why? Are you interested?” He chuckles. “Just curious, your room had two beds. Are you two not involved?” Maybe it was the whisky, but you said “not romantically.” 

“So he won’t be upset if I buy you another drink with the intention of getting in your pants?” You roll your eyes. “Your reputation precedes you, Winchester.” 

“My reputation as a hunter or a ladies’ man?”

“Your reputation as a shameless flirt.” He leans closer to you “is it working?” You laugh and push him off. “No.” 

“So there is something between you and Azriel. I bet he’s clueless. I’ve seen it time and again.” You keep nursing your glass. “I wouldn’t say he’s clueless. But you know how this job is. One second you’re here and the next… I think we both agree that it’s better if we don’t cross that line with each other.” 

“But you could cross that line with me.” He winks. “No, Dean. I don’t think I could.”

 He straightens away from you and sips his beer. “You said you met my dad?” 

“Oh, yes. It was years ago, I was a freshman in college and a vengeful spirit was wreaking havoc on the campus. John showed up right before the son of a bitch gutted me. After that it was hard to go back to classes, you know?” 

“And how did you meet Azriel?” 

“Az and I met in a bar like this one, he had been hunting with his friends for a while and I hustled them for gas money.” 

“You play pool?” You shake your head and try to keep a straight face as you say “I play fools, Dean.” 

When Azriel and Sam returned, he did not like what he saw. In truth, he was glad to see you were having fun but he hated seeing you having fun with someone else. It's not like he could complain. You both refused to cross that line. Sleeping next to each other every night, on different beds was not the whirlwind romance he wanted to give you. It wasn’t the life you deserved. But he stuck by your side because everytime he wanted to slow down, to stop, maybe go back to school, you refused. “There are monsters, Az and we save people. I can’t go back to sitting in a classroom only to end up working in an office.” He wanted domesticity. He wanted a routine. He wanted a lawn to mow and to barbecue on weekends. But more than that he wanted you. 

“She’s a keeper, Az.” Dean joked as you sunk the last ball in the socket. Azriel clenched his jaw, not liking the familiarity with which Dean nudged your shoulder. It had only been a day since you met and you were acting like you’d known each other for years. 

“You don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want to.” Your face scrunches in confusion at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m sure you'd rather be with Dean right now.” 

“Azriel, don't be like that.” He shrugs “just saying, you two were making eyes at each other all day.” 

“We were not.” He doesn’t say anything else but there’s a tension that lingers. “I hate when you do this.” 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re picking a fight. You know I would never be with anyone else.” 

“You could.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Y/n-”

“I know Az, “the life’s too dangerous,” “we’d be more vulnerable,” “it just gives the bad guys ammunition.” I know the whole song and dance of why we can’t… I get it. But it makes me feel stupid when I could be out with someone who actually shows interest in me but I stay with you.” 

“I’m not holding you hostage, you can go if you want.” 

“You’re an idiot.” With a huff you storm out of the room. Not entirely sure where you’re going, you wander around the motel grounds for a while. Knocking on Dean’s door was an option, but you wanted to be alone. He was infuriating. Azriel knows which buttons to push and when. He does this every so often, picks a fight to create iciness between you. It makes temptation easier if you’re too mad at each other to give in, you suppose. 

It's past midnight, and the lights in room 9 are off. In your haste you forgot a key. You go to the lobby and are surprised to see an attendant. “Hi, I locked myself out of my room and my partner is asleep. Do you have a spare key by any chance?” 

“Of course, name and room number?” 

A click sounds from behind and you turn to see a man, turning the Open sign to Closed.  His neck is covered in scruff and bite marks. You look back at the attendant. The ledger, that weighs at least ten pounds, slams across your face. 

You wake up tied up and breathless in a windowless room. Six bloodied bodies surrounding you.

[coraniaid]

Trick or treat!

Over the past summer I was working on a Season 3 fanfic in which Buffy and Faith got mixed up in something supernatural while on patrol together during Halloween. It ended up getting pretty long -- the current draft is well over eight thousand words -- but I just wasn't able to finish it. (To be honest, I lost confidence in the actual supernatural incident and I just couldn't bring myself to rework more than half the story.)

I'm pretty pleased with the opening, though: I think I captured their early season dynamic pretty well. Anyway, see for yourself below the readmore [and apologies for the abrupt ending: this fragment wasn't supposed to stand alone when I wrote it]. Maybe next year I'll try to rework this into something complete.

Halloween, 1998

“Remind me again what we’re doing out here, B?”

Buffy manages not to roll her eyes.  Barely.  Not that the other Slayer would have seen her doing it anyway.  Still, it’s the principle of the thing.  She’s supposed to be playing nice.

“We’ve been over this already, Faith,” she says, as patiently as she can.  “Remember?”

Faith’s a little bit ahead of her, striding confidently off into the darkness.  It’s been a couple of weeks since the other Slayer arrived in Sunnydale, and the two of them are still figuring out how the whole joint patrolling thing is going to work.  Except that Faith has already seemed to decide that it won’t ever involve slowing down and listening to what Buffy has to tell her.  Even if she’s been here – been a Slayer – for years before Faith showed up.  For some reason Faith seems to think that she should be the one in charge.

Whenever school ends, Buffy heads to the library to report in to Giles, and there Faith is, waiting for her.  Impatient, bored.  Zoning through whatever Giles has to tell them, then grabbing hold of Buffy and dragging her away before she can even talk to Willow about the homework they both have.  And what does Faith care about that, anyway? She doesn’t even go to school here.  She doesn’t even go to school anywhere.

(It occurs to Buffy, belatedly, that she’s never asked Faith what she gets up to during the day when Buffy is in school.  Or what exactly she’s doing to afford a place at that motel she’s still staying at, even after Kakistos’s goons had shown up one night and trashed the place.  Not that she thinks Faith would deign to tell her if she did ask.  Maybe Giles is taking care of it, she thinks.  He must be, right?) 

Faith just shrugs in response to Buffy’s question.  Turns to face Buffy, but without stopping: which means she’s now walking backwards into the dark, not that she looks at all worried about this.

“Yeah,” she says, casually.  “I know.  That’s why I said ‘again’.”

Faith can’t be struggling for money too badly, Buffy thinks.  She’d shown up at the library tonight dressed up in yet another new outfit.  Black boots, leather pants, a lower cut top than anything Buffy’s mom would ever let her get away with wearing, denim jacket with pockets large enough to hold a stake.  She’s also apparently decided to wear Buffy’s patience as thin as possible tonight.

“Giles says there have been reports of strange things going on out here,” Buffy says, as calmly as she can manage.  “Maybe not entirely of the natural.  Maybe dangerous.  Maybe worth checking out?”

‘Here’ being the Sunnydale Amusement Park … or what’s left of it, anyway.  According to her Mom, the first Mayor of Sunnydale had had it built back in the 1920s to try to attract people to visit the town.  However well that had worked, the Park had only lasted until the big earthquake, a decade later.  The quake that had trapped the Master in the Hellmouth (not that her Mom knew about that part) had done a lot of damage to the rest of the town as well.  It had also wrecked most of the park; and nobody had ever felt like rebuilding it.  All that’s left now is the ruins she and Faith are wandering through.  A few boarded-up buildings, what’s left of a wooden rollercoaster and something that was meant to be a fountain-powered water feature but ended up being a stagnant artificial lake covered in discarded litter and algae blooms. 

“But Di–“ Faith freezes, just for a second.  Looks a bit less cocky for a moment before she collects herself.  “I mean, my old Watcher, she said vamps never came out on Halloween.  Said they thought it was too commercial, or something.“

Di must be the name of Faith’s old Watcher, Buffy guesses.  They’ve not talked about her – or about what happened to her – since the night they killed Kakistos.  Faith obviously didn’t want to, and Buffy didn’t know how to bring it up without pissing her off.  My first Watcher died too, she could tell her.  We’re not that different.  I know what it’s like.  

But what if she said all that only for Faith to just brush her off, or worse?  What if Faith laughed in her face and said it wasn’t the same at all?  At least Faith had been there, for her Watcher.  At least she’d tried.  Buffy hadn’t even managed that much.  She hadn’t even been there when Merrick died.

“Giles told me that before, too,” she agrees instead.  “But that doesn’t mean nothing supernatural can be happening. Vamps aren’t the only black hats in this town.”

Faith looks at her a little skeptically, in that frustrating way she always does.  Like Buffy’s the inexperienced one; the one who needs the facts of how the world works patiently explained to her.

“I mean,” Buffy continues, “Last Halloween some old friend of Giles cast a spell that turned us all into our costumes.”

That’s part of why she’s out here tonight, actually.  Not just trying to impress Giles with her work ethic.  She isn’t exactly in the mood for something like that to happen again.  Besides, it beats being volunteered for something worse by Principal Snyder.

A part of her was hoping Faith would ask for details: that she’d get to show that she wasn’t the only one with wild stories about her exploits, even if none of hers involved wrestling alligators or fighting vampires in the nude.  Faith doesn’t seem too interested in that though.

“It’s probably just a couple of kids looking for a place to screw around,” she says airily, looking around casually.  “I mean, this’d be a great place for it.”

You say that wherever we go on patrol, Buffy thinks (but manages not to say).  Faith really needs some new material.

They’ve made it to roughly the middle of the old park by now.  No sign of anything strange going on.  Just a cluster of crumbling buildings, gazing down with locked doors and shattered windows on the dark water of the unplanned lake.  She can hear the distant sound of frogs and see a few twinkling fireflies further from the shore.  No sign of any of the strange noises or mysterious lights Giles’ had warned them to expect.

“So, what did you dress up as?” Faith asks her abruptly, breaking the silence. “No, wait, let me guess: Supergirl?  I could see you in a cape and a miniskirt.”

She looks Buffy up and down, making a show of frowning thoughtfully.

“Or … I know.  Some kind of fairy tale princess, right?” she guesses, smirking. “I bet you’d love that.  Everyone else scraping and bowing and letting you do whatever you wanted.   Living in a big palace and having everything you wanted in life just handed to you.”

Buffy doesn’t say anything, but she can’t stop her cheeks from reddening slightly.  Why is she always like this? she thinks.  I was trying to be nice.

“I knew it!” Faith crows delightedly, apparently – and, infuriatingly, correctly – taking her silence as some kind of confession.  “You’re so predictable, B.  You know that Halloween’s about trying to be someone different, right? You might as well have gone as a cheerleader.”

“Well, I’m sorry for not dressing up like a … a streetwalker,” Buffy offers weakly, aware she’s sounding a little too much like her mother.  And maybe that would have been okay, if she’d left it there, but a part of her can’t help but adding, much too sweetly, “You know, we don’t all have your fashion sense, Faith.”

“You got a problem with how I dress, Buffy?” Faith asks her, softly, after just the briefest of pauses.

Buffy hesitates.  She has the brief thrill of knowing she’s landed a hit, followed by an immediate feeling of guilt and the vague sense that she’s somehow stepped over a line she wasn’t supposed to cross.  It’s not fair, some childish voice in her head complains.  She started it.

Maybe this joint patrolling thing just isn’t going to work.  Maybe she’s been on her own too long.  Maybe Sunnydale is just too small to be anything but a one Slayer town.  Maybe she should just tell Faith that.

“Look, maybe we should split up for now,” she says instead.  “Cover more ground that way.  Meet you back here in twenty minutes?”

“Fine by me, B,” the other Slayer says cooly, already turning away.  “Try not to have too much fun on your own.”

[aondaneedles]

While I was home sick I may or may not have watched Katatty's Prosperity Challenge on YouTube while simming. And now I want to try it, so welcome to Barrel's End! I'm not yet sure how extensive I want to document it but I'm really enjoying this laid-back, chill gameplay so far (not a Family Sim in sight!).

I rolled three families, so let's meet them!

John Youngblood lives in a shack on the outskirts of town and owns the local bar. The widower has recently taken in his granddaughter Tallulah after the accidental death of both her parents.

John Youngblood, Popularity 2/7/4/8/4

Tallulah Youngblood, Grow Up 9/0/4/5/7

The Foster Family has been owning the local farm ever since Anton, Gloria's late husband, was a young boy. After a mysterious illness left three of them dead, the remaining members of the family try to cope. Gloria has recently opened a small grocery store, hoping to better their financial situation.

Gloria Foster, Fortune 2/5/9/5/4

Zelda Foster, Romance 5/5/8/3/4

Maisie Foster, Grow Up 4/6/1/9/5

Marcus Irving lost his dad at an early age and his mother has been... flighty ever since. After moving the whole family out of the city to renovate a decrepit old motel and then disappearing, Marcus was left struggling to raise his younger brother Caleb while juggling multiple mortgages.

Marcus Irving, Romance 5/5/7/6/2

Caleb Irving, Grow Up 6/5/8/3/3

Notes on challenge gameplay:

I've used a loan jar to take out loans for the community lot (and in the Irving's case to minimally furnish their lot). It means that I've technically already failed the challenge (no money cheats). But since they'll have to pay it back with interest, I feel like it'll even out over time

I almost rerolled my town because the population was so small and contained not a single adult sim but I gotta say I really enjoy it. It'll probably never become a big city (at least not during the first few generations) but that's kind of what I need as a palate cleanser from Brackwater Creek, which is just population explosion after population explosion

I rolled EVERYTHING. Aspiration and zodiac sign (as specified in the rule set), turn ons and turn offs (I'm actually not sure if that's required), genetics and even their last names

I'm not yet sure if I'll keep score or just... vibe with it

I'm playing two days per round and use the community time cheat to make sure I can't abuse the community lots. The seasons' set-up is Spring/Summer/Summer/Autumn (it is a desert after all!)

I'm trying to take things slowly and really enjoy gameplay, not speed through anything. It's working so far!

[ladyofthe-lake]

"Season's Change" — a #Suptober24 ficlet

Day 1: Autumn

When Dean crawls his way to Lisa’s, his face and body healed from the fight with Lucifer but everything else still shattered, summer is already beginning to take root in Cicero, Indiana. The heat of the months that follow feels only right, as Dean’s mind is halfway in the world he’s found himself in, a suburban life, and halfway in Hell, where Sam is locked in a cage with Lucifer and Michael. The flames of it lick at him; the chains from his own time in Hell burn his skin, he swears he can feel it.

After the initial shock of his arrival wears off, Lisa takes some time to set down ground rules: it starts and ends with don’t do anything crazy, Dean. She doesn’t know all of the details of what he’s been through, just how close the world came to ending for her and Ben and everyone in their little suburb; doesn’t know that Dean’s been scraping by on blind hopes, deals with every kind of devil they make, and prayers to a falling angel for the past two years; doesn’t know that he has no idea how to do this picket-fence, apple-pie life.

But she does know the shapes of these things, the weight of them as he sinks into bed with her. She knows that he struggles to hold them; that at any moment they may topple over, and that they might hit her as they drop, or worse, they might hit Ben.

Dean knows it too. He tries to keep it together, he really does. At least, he does when he’s not sneaking into the garage to grab weapons out of the Impala, or gathering ingredients for the latest spell or ritual he’s found in a dark corner of a library or a page so deep in the internet’s web that he’s not sure he’d ever be able to find it again. You could call it a last ditch effort, but he left last ditch miles back, and now he’s in his own territory of hopelessness.

He’s normal. He is. When he’s not creeping out to a crossroads with the knife in his hand, ready to carve up whatever son of a bitch is brave enough to show its ugly face without giving him what he wants. When he’s not dropping to his knees at the bedside, as Lisa tucks in Ben in the next room, folding his hands in front of him, bowing his head, and trying to find words to say a prayer, one that would make sense, one that would reach Cas’s ears. One that might ask what he wants to ask: did you put me back together wrong, there in the cemetery? When you fixed me — what did you leave behind?

In early June, the morning after Dean’s summoned a demon and offered anything, any damn thing, in exchange for Sam’s escape from the cage, Lisa tells him that Ben’s been asking for burgers. And she’s got work, Ben’s at day camp, but Dean’s got the day free — or so she thinks, though his plan involves a follow-up with the crossroads bitch from the night before — so why doesn’t he go to the grocery, grab some chuck, throw it on the grill?

What ensues is a long, hot day of fighting with the fucking thing. First he goes to the store and argues with himself about the meat, which to choose; same with the buns, same with the fixings. Dean loves a burger, of course he does, but he’s never just made one from scratch. Never wandered into the local Kroger to grab ingredients so he can whip them up — where? Outside of the shittiest motel in every backwater town in America that’s got a monster problem?

When he gets back with the stuff, he opens up the grill to check it out, and sees that it’s in deep need of a clean. Even Dean can tell that. So he spends awhile scraping off the char, wiping down the grates, and while he’s out there in the backyard, he notices it needs a mow.

So he mows it. And then he notices the gutter’s loose on the end, so he gets up on the ladder and fixes that. While he’s up there, he decides to stomp around on the roof a bit, check for any weak spots or leaks like he knows what he’s doing. He tries, really tries, to be domestic. To be settled.

It’s not exactly the summoning ritual he’d intended, but well, he’d gotten nothing from the demon the night before, and if he doesn’t grill up some perfect hamburgers tonight, Lisa might throw him out. As much as he feels like a fly trapped in a box and trying to accept it as home, he knows this stability thing is good for him. It’s giving him a springboard from which to figure out his next move. And it’s not so bad; he likes Lisa, likes Ben, likes who he pretends to be when he’s with them.

When evening comes, Ben arrives in a howl of excitement, Lisa traipsing in the door behind him. Dean goes to fire up the grill, ready to make them both happy, because it’s easy and he can do it — better than stopping the damn apocalypse, yeah? — only there’s no gas. He curses, Lisa reprimands him lightly for doing so in front of Ben, and it’s back to the grocery store.

Despite all Dean’s best efforts, the burgers come out hard that night, and Ben calls them hockey pucks and throws his on the ground. The adjustment to living with someone new in the house has been difficult, and Lisa tries to tell Dean this, but well, he doesn’t have to hear it, does he? He feels for himself how difficult it’s been. He apologizes to Ben, then takes him to the Burger King down the road. When Ben dons the paper crown, Dean smiles and takes a picture with his phone.

That night he takes the Impala for a long drive, but he doesn’t go back to the crossroads. He can’t handle two failures in one day. He just fucking can’t.

The summer swelters on and on. His new life gets in the way of his grasps at the old one; he doesn’t have the time for the research, rituals, and other things he needs to try to help spring Sam out of the box. Ben goes to batting practice at the local Little League diamond on Mondays; he has swim lessons at the community pool on Tuesdays; Lisa teaches a late yoga class on Wednesdays so it becomes ‘Dean Night,’ which is synonymous with chicken nuggets for dinner and a movie Ben probably shouldn’t be allowed to watch but enjoys thoroughly; Thursdays the neighbors come over and they all talk about work, and kids, and things like the economy; Fridays, he learns, are good for date night, and he understands the groove of Lisa’s favorite restaurants within a few months; Saturdays and Sundays are variable, sometimes with birthday parties for Ben’s friends, sometimes with outings to museums or amusement parks, but always something to fill the days.

By July, Lisa’s gotten him a job. By August, he’s spent every spare moment, cashed out every credit card he has, and has nearly gotten himself killed a dozen times over trying to unlock the Lucifer box. By September, his exhaustion is palpable, and the grass is growing long again, and again, and again.

The change to autumn is the first full seasonal change he spends in one place since he was four in Kansas. He’s there to see the daily temperatures steadily, blessedly, drop. He helps pack Ben’s lunch for his first day of school and listens to a blow-by-blow account of the day when the school bus drops him off at home. He’s there when Lisa pulls out the autumnal decorations, the felt pumpkins that she places on the bookshelf, the spider web that she strings across the front porch railing, even the witch’s hat that she sets on the dining room table.

Dean tells her that witches don’t really wear those hats, but that they do love a disgusting little pile of bones. And she shoots back that she’s not going to put a pile of bones on the table.

He’s there, still, waiting for something to happen, waiting for a real shift to come, waiting to feel satisfied with this new life he’d wanted, when the trees in the backyard drop their leaves.

It’s a Saturday. Ben’s with his cousins for the weekend and Lisa has a yoga retreat. She leaves early, kissing him on the cheek as he lays in bed, tells him to have a good day, to do something with himself. And he tries to think of what to do: is there a book he hasn’t gotten his hands on yet, is there lore somewhere that he hasn’t heard of? Could he call up Bobby (again) and take the earful of idjits if only it would get him an answer? But no, there’s nothing left to try. Not even Bobby can figure this one out, and he’s told Dean several times now to stop trying.

So he lumbers out into the mid-morning chill, grabs the rake and doesn’t look at the Impala, which he’s now covered up, trying not to tempt himself. He takes the rake and a bag and heads out into the yard. Last time he talked to Bobby, he’d be told to sit down and be happy with his life, that it’s the best one a hunter can hope to get. But how can that be, when there’s a gaping hole in the middle of it? When everything gets pulled in and disappears? Cas is blowing in the wind, Sam’s in Hell, Bobby’s tired of Dean’s bitching — what can he do?

The yard is covered in leaves. He starts in the northwest corner and decides to work logically. It’s physical work, but not difficult. Dean’s gotten soft in the past couple of months and he knows it. He should get a gym membership, only he can’t really imagine himself in that kind of environment. Used to be, the adrenaline of the hunt would carry his aching, tired body for miles; used to be, he could take any kind of punch and get back up. Now, though, as he rakes the leaves into ever-bigger piles, he wonders if those last punches he took were enough to knock him down — permanently.

As he rakes and fills up bag after bag, stuffing the leaves inside of them until they’re full to bursting, his thoughts are drawn toward Cas. Cas, who disappeared without a trace. Cas, who’s probably busy fixing Heaven, and good for him, only Dean wants him to come back now, wants him to lay his hand on Dean’s shoulder and see if he can take another go at fixing him. Maybe he didn’t get deep enough at the cemetery; maybe he didn’t realize there was more to do, more to sew back up.

He doesn’t pause, just keeps working, even as these thoughts spill through his mind. Cas, who’s made it clear that his real life is in Heaven, that his choice is to live with the angels while Dean mucks it out with the humans down here. Cas, who went through hell with him, who had him gasping for air in his own damn coffin, who could come find Dean at any time he wanted but hasn’t yet. Cas, who’s celestial and big and important and probably, right now, is glad that Dean’s tucked away nice in his little suburban life; safe, quiet. Cas, who doesn’t have to clean up Dean’s messes anymore. Cas, who’s probably relieved.

Dean keeps working until each leaf has been raked into a pile, until each pile has been shoved into a bag and carried out to the front curb. He works until the cold is beginning to get to him, to tingle his fingers and toes. He works until he feels something akin to that moment, at the end of a hunt, when everything seems to be teetering on the top of some divide; when it could fall one way or the other, when everything could change for the better or for the worse.

He’s tired of having one foot in his old life and one in his new; it’s time to pick a damn side, for his own sanity — to put that ahead for once, yeah? Sam’s not breaking out anytime soon, not unless something changes, and when it does, Dean’ll be ready. But for now, the only thing that’s happening is he’s driving himself crazy and wearing out his welcome with Lisa and Ben. His new life.

Dean ties up the final bag, and glances back toward the tree line, just for a moment, not sure why he does it. For a second, there, he’d sworn he saw something. He gets the strange feeling in the back of his mind, the feeling that there’s something important that he’s supposed to do, only he doesn’t know what it is.

He carries the bag to the curb and tosses it next to the rest, then heads inside. He locks the door behind him and heads upstairs, to shed his clothes into the laundry basket, to shower with the full-sized shampoo and body wash that he bought at the store weeks ago, to towel off with his towel, to go downstairs and take out his dishes and make his lunch.

Upstairs, in the bathroom, he pauses to look out the window one last time, to see the yard from above. It’s clear, the grass visible but dying, the leaves gone. It looks good. He smiles a bit, because it’s all he can do, and then turns on the hot water.

[watchandread02]

For the "Holidays with the Winchesters: A very Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar" by @archervale and @wormstacheangel

Day Nine: Holy

Ao3

This is set somewhere in the early Seasons.

(There is some swearing and suggestive language/phrases in here)

Cas and Dean are walking across a field, making the track back to the Impala. They had just finished salt n’ burning the bones for their latest case.

“Holy shit.” Dean says as he steps into something, that definitely doesn’t feel like just mud.

“Where?” Cas asks, suddenly very serious.

“What, where?” Dean asks back, looking around confused.

“The holy excrement you mentioned.” Cas replies as he bends towards the ground, to take a closer look.

Dean bursts out laughing, which has Cas startling and falling forwards, into a puddle. This only has Dean laughing harder. Cas glares up at him from where he is drenched in the muddy water. Like this Cas actually looks pretty cute, kind of like an adorable little kitten. It’s almost like Cas can hear Dean’s thoughts, since his glare only intensifies. Okay so angry adorable little kitten. Dean holds out a hand for Cas to grab, only to be pulled into the puddle next to Cas. Dean sputters for a moment and then turns around to face the angel, glare already in place. The glare doesn’t last for long though. Cas is chuckling, which is pretty much a full blown laugh for the angel. Cas slowly stops laughing until only a gummy grin remains in it’s place and Dean is helpless to do anything but smile softly back at the angel. They stare at each other for a moment, before Dean stands up. He holds out his hand to Cas again, who only raises his eyebrow in reply. Dean only shrugs and smiles at Cas, who grabs Dean’s hand and ‘lets’ himself be pulled off the ground. This time without pulling Dean down to the ground again.

“We should really get back to the motel. You think you could clean us up?” Dean asks, starting to shiver because of the wet clothes and frosty air.

The next second both of them are cleaned up and Dean starts to trek back through the mud.

Cas stops him from walking any further by pulling on his arm. Cas has that serious look on his face again, “okay, but I really do need to know where that ‘holy shit’ is.” Cas asks, complete with air quotes around the ‘holy shit’.

“Don’t worry about it Cas. It’s just an expression.” Dean answers.

Dean puts an arm around the still confused angel and starts to walk them back to the car. Cas doesn’t stop asking questions even when they are back in the Impala and Dean resigns himself to the fact that he probably won’t hear the end of this, until Cas inevitably leaves to deal with some kind of heavenly business again.

—

Dean startles awake. He lets out an involuntary, “holy cow,” as he blindly reaches for his gun and points it at the intruder. Through bleary eyes Dean makes out a trenchcoat wearing person. Dean relaxes and puts the gun down on the bedside table.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s creepy to watch me sleep, man.” Dean grumbles as the adrenaline goes down and he starts to wake up.

Cas does his characteristic head tilt again and says earnestly, “I like watching out for you, while you sleep. You seem very relaxed when you do it.”

“Yeah, well I don’t like it. It gives me the heebie-jeebies. So I would like it if you stopped.”

During their conversation Dean has pulled on a shirt and some jeans and goes to grab the Impalas keys. “I’m gonna go get some coffee and breakfast. You want anything? You even staying long enough?”

“No, thank you Dean. I don’t need anything. I will be here when you get back though.” Cas answers, as he sits down on Dean’s bed.

Dean shakes his head and closes the door. Man that angel is a weird one. But why does it kind of warm his heart to know that Cas is watching out for him. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone aloud.

Having secured some breakfast and coffee from a diner down the road, Dean gets back to the motel room in less than 20 minutes. Dean lets himself into the room and closes the door behind him. He stops in his tracks as he turns around.

There standing in the middle of the room is a cow. A literal fucking cow. Which seems to be wearing a halo. Cas is standing beside the cow and fastening something to the back of it.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Dean asks.

Cas turns around to face Dean, a deer in the headlights look on his face. “I thought you would take longer. I got you a holy cow.” At the end Cas is grinning proudly.

“What do you mean, you got me a holy cow?”

Cas steps to the side a bit so Dean can see what Cas was fastening to the cows back. It’s little plastic wings.

“Well when you woke up you exclaimed ‘holy cow’, so I thought you were dreaming of one and thought I would surprise you with it.” Cas answers. Go dammit he looks so proud of having pulled this off.

Dean wipes a hand over his mouth. How does he explain this without breaking Cas’ heart?

“Cas, do you remember the time where I said holy shit and I was not in fact talking about literal holy shit?” At Cas’ nod, Dean continues, “okay so this is something similar. I did not actually mean a holy cow, I was just surprised and used that as an expression of it.”

Cas looks crestfallen as he looks at the cow for a moment, before looking back at Dean. “So you weren’t actually dreaming of a holy cow? And I just did something really stupid, didn’t I?”

The sad puppy eyed look Cas has on his face right now is breaking Dean’s heart.

Dean reaches out to put a reassuring hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Yeah this might have been stupid, but it’s a very sweet idea. If I would have actually wanted a holy cow, I would be really happy right now. And thank you anyway, Cas.”

Dean pulls Cas into a really short hug. Before Cas can really reciprocate, Dean has already pulled back again. But when Dean looks at Cas' face now, there is a small smile playing on his lips.

“I think you should get the cow back to where it came from. I don’t think it will like it here for long.” Dean says.

“You are probably right.” And with one last shared smile, Cas and the cow are gone in a blink.

Dean sits down to eat his forgotten breakfast, but the smile doesn’t leave Dean’s face for the rest of the morning.

—

Dean stares at the giant Christmas tree in awe. He has to tilt his head back, up towards the sky, to even get a glimpse at the top. There are so many details that he could probably stare at the tree for hours and still find new things. Dean spots what appear to be wings at the very top. He takes a step back to be able to sed better. And yeah, there at the top is a really beautifully crafted angel, made up of thousands of tiny lights. It really is beautifully made.

“Holy fuck,” Dean whispers.

Dean hears the whoosh of wings behind him. He turns around to find Cas, standing really close to him.

“Dude, personal space. And what are you even doing here?” Dean asks, as he takes a step back.

“You called me.” Cas answers as he tilts his head and squints his eyes.

“I didn’t call on you Cas.” Dean says, confused. Dean totally doesn't think that the head tilt and squinty eyes are kind of cute.

Cas’ head tilts even more, if that’s even possible. “You didn’t specifically call my name, but I felt your longing. Normally it’s at a simmer, but a moment ago I felt a really strong pull. So I came to see what was so urgent.”

“I did- uh… I woul- I mean… uhm.” Dean sputters out intelligently.

The look of confusion on Cas’ face transforms to one of concern. “You don’t look alright.” Cas reduces the distance between them. He lifts a hand up to Dean’s forehead. Dean can feel the heat crawl up from the back of his neck into his cheeks. “Your temperature has risen significantly since I have arrived and your face is quite hot, are you alright Dean?”

“Yeah man I’m alright. Though I haven’t been told my face is hot in a while, so thanks for that.” Dean says and throws in a wink for good measure.

“Was that a flirtation?” Cas asks.

Dean’s cheeks heat up even more. “Uhm… I guess so. Yeah.” Dean answers, as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, well then. I do think your face is really handsome.” Cas says, with a crudely executed wink, so it looks more like he is blinking with one eye.

Dammit even that dorky wink doesn’t reduce Cas’ attractiveness. Dean doesn’t want to think about what that says about him. They are still standing close together, like magnets that never seem to be able to part for long. Their eyes are still locked, neither having looked away since Cas first appeared.

“So what was it that actually made your longing spike up? If it wasn’t you feeling ill?” Cas wonders.

“Uhm well, I might have said ‘Holy Fuck’ before you appeared, but I don’t see why that would specifically call you here.” Dean replys.

Cas thinks about it for a moment, before seeming to come to a conclusion. “Did you happen to be thinking about something specific when you said that? Something that could be traced back to me? Words can be very powerful, if there are strong intentions behind it, Dean.”

“Oh fuck.” Dean lets out involuntary, as he realises what happened.

Cas takes an impossible step closer to him. “Oh I could definetly put a holy into that fuck for you.”

Dean’s whole body heats up at those words. If this is how Cas is going to be now that he knows Dean has been flirting with him, he doesn’t know if he will survive for long.

“Well then I think, maybe we should take this somewhere more private.” Dean whispers into Cas ear.

The next second Dean feels a pull at his navel and they land in Dean’s motel room. Before Dean can really get his bearings he is pushed back onto the bed and he has a very eager angel on top of him.

Oh yeah, Dean’s definetly fucked.

[its-an-obsession]

Hunter Smart

Supernatural Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Part One

Request: Okay, so I just finished Book Smart and AAAAAAAAAAA - it was so amazing! Now, I know I just requested a one-shot, and you are totally welcome to tell me no on this, but may I request a part 2 to Book Smart..? if you do not have any ideas, I've got a couple; otherwise, I'd love to see where you go with it❤

A/N: Yay!! I'm so glad you liked it. And I'm so sorry this is super, super late! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: A couple months have passed since your date with Sam, and the two of you have talked on the phone almost every day, video chatted, and have even sent letters when you can. He had stopped by your town a few weeks ago before continuing their trip. After that, you visit your hometown to see your family. During the visit, you can't help but notice a strange phenomenon. Remembering Sam and Dean's profession, you don't hesitate to call Sam.

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nick Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/F/M: Your Favorite Movie

Eliza and Joe are your parents

Set during season two

Long Imagine

Warnings: language, a couple of time skips

Sam Winchester x-reader

(One Month Ago: Third POV)

"So, how was last week's hunt?" Y/N asked, swinging her arm as they held hands. Sam chuckled and put an arm over her shoulders. "It was something," he said. Y/N smiled at his response. She leaned her head against his arm.

The two of them had been walking in a park near Y/N's apartment. Sam was sweet and cooked them an early dinner before heading to the park. He told Y/N that Dean had asked to come, but of course, Sam convinced him to stay at their motel. "You know, you could've stayed at my apartment," Y/N said, "You didn't have to stay in another motel."

Sam smiled. He held her hand as they sat down at a bench overlooking a little pond. "I know, but I didn't want to intrude," Sam said. "You could never," Y/N put her head back on his shoulder. He kissed her on the forehead, resting his head on top of hers.

It was quiet between them as they looked at a few people fish in the small pond. Sam held Y/N's hand, running his thumb on the side. She looked up at him and couldn't help but smile at him. Y/N always thought it was funny how they met.

But she loved that he was committed to continuing their relationship regardless of whether he and Dean traveled a lot. And Sam was surprised that she wasn't taken aback when he told her about his family.

The conversation was tough, sure, but she didn't bombard him with questions. Instead, she sat there and let him explain. He didn't want to lie to her. Sam wanted to be honest, especially since he wasn't always in one place.

Sam felt her eyes on him. He looked down at her before kissing her forehead softly. She closed her eyes at the feeling of his lips on her face. "What're you doing tomorrow?" Sam asked. "Not much," Y/N replied. Sam smiled, softly kissing her lips.

He pulled back, his hand cupping her face, running a finger along her cheekbone. "Want to head back to your apartment?" Sam said. Y/N smiled. Sam stood up from the bench, reaching out for her hand.

________

(A Week Later: Third POV)

Y/N put some dishes into the dishwasher as she was on the phone with Sam. He and his brother were on their way to South Dakota to visit a family friend, Bobby Singer. Y/N could hear Dean talking in the background as Sam was trying to explain something to her. "Dean, just shut up," Sam said.

"Bitch," Dean said.

"Jerk."

Y/N rolled her eyes and closed her dishwasher. She leaned against the kitchen counter, holding her phone to her ear. "Do I need to let you go?" she asked. "No, no, it's fine," Sam said. Y/N smiled, walking over to her living room to sit down. "What're you doing right now?" Sam asked.

She draped the blanket, from the back of the couch, over her legs. "Not a whole lot. Just got back from the store," Y/N answered. Sam smiled, leaning back in his seat. Dean glanced at his brother and then at the road ahead of them.

Sam ignored Dean's look and leaned to the side so his head rested against the window. "Sounds like loads of fun," Sam commented. Y/N laughed and pulled the blanket closer to her. "Let me know when you get to Bobby's, okay?" Y/N said. "Yeah, yeah, of course," Sam replied, nodding.

It fell quiet for a split second. Y/N grabbed the TV remote to try to find a movie to watch. "Y/N/N, I'll let you go, and I'll call you tonight, okay?" Sam said. Y/N smiled at the nickname and nodded her head. "Yeah," she replied. They said their goodbyes, hanging up the phone. The smile didn't drop from her face when she faced the television.

Sam smiled to himself and looked out of the window as the trees passed. Dean glanced at Sam then the road of them, like he had been doing for the past five minutes; including the phone call. Sam rolled his eyes and turned to look at his older brother.

"What?" Sam said.

"Nothing, nothing," Dean shrugged. Just you...." Dean paused for a second and continued to speak. "You seem happy, for once," he added. Sam nodded and looked out of the window again, still a small smile on his face.

________

(A Couple Months Later - Third POV)

"How do you do it?" Y/N asked, sitting on her bed as she was on the phone with Sam. Sam furrowed his brows and propped up against some pillows on the motel bed. "What do you mean?" he questioned. "Well," Y/N sighed, "How do you do all your hunting stuff and still have time for me?"

There was that expression again. Sam crossed his arms, leaning up against the pillows with the same smile. "I don't know. You're special, I look forward to talking to you," Sam said. Y/N blushed and nodded, thankful that he couldn't see the effect he had on her.

"Well, I am honored," Y/N said.

There was a short pause between them. Sam usually spared the details when talking about hunts with Y/N. "Anything interesting happen since we last talked?" Sam asked. "Uh...." Y/N trailed, looking around her room in thought.

"I killed a few gnats near my plants today, so that was very eventful," Y/N remarked, "Oh, and I surprisingly fixed my dishwasher. It was acting up this morning, and I don't know how I did it. But I fixed the little tray at the top, and it started. I call it a miracle."

Sam laughed. Dean walked into the motel room after stopping by the diner down the street. It seemed that every waking moment, Sam was on the phone with Y/N. Typically, Dean would tell him to get back onto the case. However, Dean encouraged the calls.

"Wow, sounds like you did a lot."

"Yeah, I'm pretty cool," Y/N said, sighing. Y/N picked at the frayed edges of her comforter as they continued to talk. Sam told her about a few case details for their hunt, seeing if she had any other insight. Of course, her love for books helped a little bit.

"Oh, I'll be out of town this week visiting my family. But I should still be able to talk," Y/N informed. Sam nodded and sat up in bed. "Just let me know if you need anything. I'm only one call away," Sam reminded.

"I know," Y/N said, flattening out the edges of her blanket. "I'm gonna call it a night. I've gotta get up early for work in the morning," Y/N sighed. "Alright, I'll talk to you tomorrow," Sam said.

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, hanging up the phone.

Sam set his phone on the table and stood up from the bed to see what Dean had gotten. All the while, Dean was sitting at the table, chowing down on a burger and fries.

________

(A Week Later: Y/N's POV)

It was about a five-hour drive from my apartment to Crossville, my hometown. Thankfully, I had a couple of CDs with some of my favorite music, including one that Sam and I made together. A couple hours passed, and I arrived at my parent's house.

My mom, Eliza, ran down the steps when she saw my car parked in the driveway. I smiled and stepped out of the driver's side. "There's my girl," Eliza greeted. She wrapped her arms around me, swaying from side to side.

"How was the drive?" she let me go. I smiled and stepped towards the backseat to grab my things.

"Not bad. I hit a bit of traffic, but nothing major."

I closed the car door, slipping my arm through the strap of my duffle bag. My mom grinned and put an arm around me.

The two of us walked to the front door, where my father was waiting. She opened the door and helped me with my things. "Joe, your beautiful and loving daughter is here!" she shouted. He jumped from the recliner and walked to the foyer.

My dad gave me a tight hug, making me think that he'd never let me go. He's always been like that. "Your room's upstairs as always," my dad said, letting me go with his hands on my shoulders. "Don't worry. We didn't touch it," my mom added.

I laughed and walked up the stairs. My childhood bedroom was at the end of the hallway. The smile on my face grew ten times when I noticed the lilac-colored walls looked the same. I could even see traces of daisies that I attempted to draw when I was fourteen.

(Third POV - At Bobby's House)

Sam leaned against the couch, watching a random show he found on cable. He looked down at his phone after not hearing from Y/N for a couple hours. Sam glanced at the TV one more time before giving his girlfriend a call.

"Hey, Sam," Y/N said, putting her phone on speaker. She began unpacking her bag while he was still on the phone. "Did you get to your parent's house alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, just got here a few minutes ago. I'm unpacking now," Y/N said, taking the phone with her as she put her clothes into the dresser. "Good. How was the drive?" he questioned. "Trafficy, but nothing I can't handle," Y/N answered.

Sam chuckled at her response. Y/N finished unpacking her bag and set it beside her dresser. "What're you gonna do?" he asked. "Nothing for change, it'll be nice," Y/N answered. Sam smiled. He told her a bit of what he and Dean were doing. It sounded like they were back at Bobby's for the week.

They continued talking for a few minutes until Sam had to go. Sam smiled as he hung up the phone (GIF Above).

________

(Later That Night: Y/N's POV)

My mom had prepared one of my favorite meals in honor of my visit. She, my dad, my brother, and I had a talk about what's happened the past few years, mainly talking about how I left so suddenly. After considering my feelings, they apologized.

The conversation went better than I had initially thought. "So, Y/N, how's the job going?" Alec, my brother, asked. "Good, good. My coworkers are great. And surprisingly, I have a flexible and considerate boss," I replied.

Alec chuckled and handed me the pitcher of Lemonade. I thanked him, pouring a glass for myself and my mom. It was quiet between us. We had already exhausted the use of topics, mainly consisting of what had been going on in my life and theirs.

Speaking of topics, I purposefully didn't mention Sam, knowing that my parents would ask a bunch of questions and would want to meet him ASAP. It was a quiet dinner, but not an uncomfortable type of quiet. I helped my mom clean up the dishes before settling in on the living room couch.

"Hey, Y/N/N," my mom said, peeking her head into the living room. I looked up from the TV and over at my mom. "Do you mind stopping by the store real quick?" she asked. I shook my head, standing up from the living room sofa. "What do you need?" I asked.

"We're out of paper towels, and there's a spill in the kitchen," she answered. My mom handed me a small list, and I headed to the grocery store. It wasn't a very long drive from my parent's house to the store, so I parked my car closest to the entrance.

Thankfully, I had gotten to the grocery store about thirty minutes before closing. I quickly found the aisle where most of the items were. As I coasted down the frozen treats aisle, the lights above began to flicker. I ignored it and continued down the aisle, excusing it for the store's poor electricity? I don't know.

I found some of my dad's favorite ice cream and dropped it into the grocery basket. The man at the register smiled at me as I put the basket on the conveyor belt. He scanned the food items and set them into some bags. I wished him a good night, picking up the bags as I made my way over to the sliding doors.

When I unlocked the doors, my car beeped. I set the bag in the trunk and opened the driver's side door. The store's front sliding doors opened just as the cashier from earlier walked out. He turned around and locked the doors behind him. I started my car and made sure everything was all good.

While pulling out of the parking spot, I couldn't help but notice a black shadow extending across the lot ahead of me. Taking my knowledge from watching horror movies, I neglected the spot and continued driving out.

Once I reached the stop sign to exit, I heard loud and terrifying screaming coming from the parking lot.

At the sudden sound, I felt my whole body go stiff. I tried pressing the gas on my car, but my body prevented me from doing so. The shadow from earlier took over the damp concrete, causing the tall lights to burst. That's when I noticed the shadow had taken the shape of a tall figure with long and narrow arms, its eyes glowing a piercing red.

Its slow pace began to speed up once it noticed my car. My breathing grew uneven, and my survival instincts finally took over. I pressed on the gas and turned awkwardly down the street, speeding home. I couldn't help but glance behind me every once in a while to make sure it wasn't following me.

________

(Later That Night)

I sat on my bed, my back pressed against the headboard with my blanket covering my legs. The TV that sat on my dresser was on, but I wasn't really paying any attention to it. After seeing that....that thing I sped home and gave the groceries to my mom. I already knew she wouldn't believe me.

So, rather than explaining why I looked as pale as a ghost, I said I wasn't feeling well and went straight upstairs. From there, I took a brisk shower and then hopped into bed. And now, here I am, staring into space with the television on in the background.

My mind kept replaying what the hell I saw and heard. None of which I understood. But I know who would: Sam and Dean.

________

(The Next Day)

Before I went to sleep, I immediately called Sam. I felt bad for calling him late at night, knowing that he was probably in the middle of something, but he assured me that I wasn't interrupting anything. Thankfully, he and his brother were not on a hunt, and they'd come to Crossville as soon as possible.

I had gotten a few hours of sleep, but not enough to keep me alive throughout the day. Since Sam and Dean were coming into town, I told my parents that some friends were passing through and wanted to meet up.

Of course, my mom wanted to meet them, which also meant that she'd have to meet Sam. I sat on the front porch of my parent's house, busying myself with reading a book. The familiar roar of the Impala tore me away from the book.

I looked up from the page and smiled when Dean pulled into the driveway. I stood from the bench, dropping the book on the cushion. The two brothers stepped out of the car. Sam closed the door behind him and ran over to me. He met me halfway and instantly wrapped his arms around me.

He kissed me on the temple and set his chin on the top of my head, hugging me tightly. "My parents are out right now," I said. Sam nodded, letting me go with his hands on my shoulders. "You holdin' up okay?" he asked.

"Can't get the thing out of my head," I answered. Sam nodded again and kissed me on the forehead. I led them through the front door and into the living room. "Did ya'll want anything to drink?" I offered.

"Uh, water's fine, Y/N/N," Sam said, sitting down on the couch. I nodded and stepped into the kitchen. The boys sat in the living room as I grabbed them some water.

"Thanks," Dean said, taking a quick sip before setting the water on the coffee table. It was quiet for a bit until Sam broke it. "So, I know you explained last night, but tell me what you saw?" he asked. I sat down on the other side of Sam as Dean was in the chair across.

"Well, I noticed a shadow, to begin with, but didn't really pay any attention to it," I explained, "Then when I was pulling out of the lot, that's when I heard screaming. And I looked behind my car, and that's where it was. It was this tall shadow, and it eventually turned into a black figure with these arms. It had these terrifying red eyes."

Sam set a hand on my knee as I explained. I smiled softly and set a hand on top of his. "When it started walking towards my car, I left," I added, "Then I checked the news this morning, y'know, out of habit. That's when I saw that a man's body had been found in the grocery store's parking lot."

Sam's brows raised. "It was the same guy who had checked out my groceries," I finished. Dean took another sip of his water and cleared his throat. "Did you get anything else on the 'thing'?" Dean asked.

I thought for a while and shook my head. "Only that it was slow and dark," I said. The brothers were quiet for a while as they exchanged looks. I looked between them and spoke. "Look, I have no idea what this thing is. But I know what I saw. I know it was out of the ordinary and something that I wish I never knew existed," I said.

Sam glanced at me and nodded, lacing my fingers with his. "You think you could show us the grocery store?" he asked. "Yeah," I answered, nodding. The three of us got into the beloved Impala and headed to the store. Sure enough, the parking lot had been cornered off where the man's body had been discovered.

It looked like there was still police there. Dean parked the car, but before we stepped out, he reached into the glove compartment. I watched as he pulled out two faux FBI badges. My brows raised at the sight. Sam looked back at me, shooting me a reassuring smile.

We stepped out of the car and walked over to the parking lot. There was a line of yellow crime scene tape. A local sheriff walked over to where we stood. Sam and Dean, almost on instinct, pulled out their 'badges'. The sheriff simply nodded and lifted the tape for them.

He glanced at me as I stood there, not really knowing what to do. "She's with us," Dean mentioned. The sheriff slowly nodded and let me through. "Does this look familiar?" Sam asked.

I nodded. "That's where the shadow was," I pointed at two light posts, separated by a median between them, with a small patch of grass on it.

"When I was pulling out over there, the shadow was slowly making its way to the cashier and his car," I said, "Then I heard the scream as I was beginning to leave."

"Did the lights flicker before, after, or during?" Dean asked, looking at the blood stains on the concrete. "During," I replied. Dean nodded, walking towards the light posts. He walked a few steps and stopped, where I said the shadow had transformed into a figure. He looked over at Sam, using his expression to talk.

It seemed that the two of them only needed to look at each other to know what they were thinking. I looked around and stood there, taking notice of the blood stains. That's when I noticed something. There were scratch marks along the dark concrete.

"Sam, Dean," I said, gaining their attention.

At the sound of my voice, they both turned over to look at me. I pointed to the markings on the ground. Sam stepped over to me, setting a hand on my lower back as he passed me. They shared yet another look.

________

(A Few Days Later)

The boys found some EMF readings at the parking lot, which I'm still trying to understand, but it's a work in progress. It had been a few days since we investigated the parking lot, and only one more body had been discovered. The three of us decided to stop by a local restaurant in my hometown.

"So, what're you thinking it is?" I asked, sitting beside in the booth.

Dean walked over to the booth after speaking to the hostess at the front of the restaurant. "Not sure," Sam answered, "Leaning toward Shadow People." Sam grabbed a journal from his satchel.

He opened a page and pushed it towards me. "I mean, you said that it was this tall figure-like thing that flickered and had weird eyes, right?" Sam said. I nodded, still looking at the journal.

Sam took a sip of his water and shared a look with Dean, who had sat across from us. I handed my boyfriend the journal again. "So, is this what your hunts normally look like?" I asked, "Educational guess, with a few theories?" Dean tilted his head from side to side, his brows raised.

"Yeah, yeah, pretty much," he said.

I nodded in response, playing with the salad a bit. Sam glanced at me and then his plate of food. "We'll figure it out, Y/N/N," Sam said. He set a hand on top of mine, squeezing it in reassurance. I looked up at him and nodded. The three of us had our lunch, mainly talking about what should happen next.

Afterward, Dean drove the Impala to my parent's house. He parked the car in the driveway and let Sam walk me to the front door. "I can help, y'know," I said, "I was the one who saw it." Sam chuckled and nodded his head, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I know, but I can't risk you getting hurt," he said, "Dean and I have been doing this longer than you have. I mean, you've only been doing it for, like, three days."

I sighed and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you've got a point," I said. Sam smiled and stopped walking. The two of us stood in front of the steps leading up to the porch. Sam took his hand out of his pocket, reaching for my hand.

He laced our fingers, running his thumb along my knuckles. "You'll be safer here than out there with me and Dean," Sam said, "We know what we're doing, Y/N/N." He raised our clasped hands to his lips, lightly kissing my knuckles.

"Got it," I said, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach. Sam kissed me on the forehead before giving me a quick hug. We said our goodnight and goodbyes. I watched from the front porch as Dean pulled the Impala out of the driveway and down the street.

________

(Later That Night)

Sam and Dean had both updated me through the rest of the day. My parents were out, again, with a friend of theirs in the town over. Even though I wasn't too fond of being alone, I didn't want my parents to think their daughter was going insane. So, in the meantime, I had my leftovers from lunch and watched my Y/F/M's.

After the first movie ended, I put on the second one. The whole night was quiet. Typically, I would like that, but currently, I hate it. I kept the movie a little louder than usual and all the lights on inside the house. I threw the empty leftovers container into the trash and grabbed a drink from the fridge.

When I sat down on the couch, I noticed the front porch lights starting to flicker. I watched them for a second, remembering that the wires weren't secured correctly. I ignored the action and continued to watch my movie. But that's when I kept seeing it in the corner of my eye.

Then, as if things couldn't get worse, the lights outside sparked and never turned back on. I stayed on the couch, my eyes strained on the front door. My hands gripped the blanket draped over my legs. It almost felt like the blanket would be stuck to my hands if I happened to let go. The whole house went quiet despite the hum of the ceiling fan and the laughter coming from the TV.

I felt my heart race, and I could hear it in my ears. It was like the whole parking lot incident over again. I took a deep breath and released it out through my nose and then my mouth, regulating my fear.

It was then that I saw the reflection of two long arms in the window beside the door. "Shit," I mumbled. I let the blanket go from my grasp, allowing it to drop from the couch and onto the floor. The movie kept playing in the background as I rose from the leather couch.

My pace was slow, and my eyes were still on the front of the door and windows. I quickly made it to the kitchen, grabbing the UV-A flashlight and knife Dean had given me. They had mentioned something about the creature's weakness.

I didn't know if that would work, but my choices were limited at this point. I pressed my back against the frame of the opening that led into the hallway. The sound of the front door creaking stopped me from going anywhere else. I held the knife in one hand and the flashlight in the other.

The hardwood flooring made unsettling sounds from the porch. I wanted to close my eyes, hoping that that would somehow make the Shadow Figure disappear. I slowly peered over the edge of the frame, noticing that the thing wasn't there. With furrowed brows and slow actions, I cautiously stepped away from the frame.

I crept down the hall, keeping the grip tight on the knife and flashlight. The figure had found its way into the living room. It stood in the middle with his gaze on the TV playing Y/F/M. My breath hitched in the back of my throat, and I quickly pressed my back against the wall, hiding myself.

The air around me suddenly went cold, too cold for my liking. The floorboards creaked, the sounds slowly making their way towards me. My eyes stayed forward, but I could feel the figure moving nearby. I whipped around and pointed the UV-A flashlight at the Shadow Figure.

"Duck!" I heard a voice shout.

And I did just that. My hands let go of the knife and flashlight. I crawled over to the wall, pressing myself against it. Screeches were heard from above me as I felt someone roughly grabbing me by the arm. My boyfriend brought me up from the ground and outside.

Flashes from inside my parents' house followed by a loud scream that thankfully didn't belong to Dean. Sam held me in his arms, one arm wrapped around my waist, his hand cradling my head. "You're okay, you're okay," he repeated, his lips lingering on my forehead.

I wrapped my arms tight around him, trying to shield myself from what I just witnessed. "I got you," he said, not taking his grip away from me.

________

(A Few Days Later)

After the incident at my parents' house, Sam hadn't really left my side, and I didn't mind that. Sam and his brother stuck around for a few days, telling me that they needed a break anyway. It was their second-to-last night in Crossville, and my parents wanted to finally meet Sam and Dean.

I stood beside the door, awaiting the sound of Baby down the street. My mom was over the moon to meet Sam and Dean. I had told her a little bit about them, but unfortunately, some of them were lies, keeping their monster hunter profession on a down low. My mom was setting the table as the Impala pulled into the parking lot.

I opened the door just as Sam was about to knock. Dean followed pursuit with a bottle of wine in his hand. That was most definitely Sam's idea. My mom rounded the corner with a cheerful expression painted on her face. I stepped aside so the two boys could walk in.

Sam hugged me, giving me a tight squeeze before letting me go. Dean shut the front door and joined Sam's side. My mom glanced at me and then at the two boys. Sam stuck out his hand to shake my mom's. She grinned and accepted the gesture.

"I'm Sam," he introduced, "Y/N's boyfriend, and this is my older brother, Dean." Dean waved with the bottle of wine. My mom's expression turned to pure excitement if she wasn't even more excited than before. She grinned and gave both of them a tight hug.

"Oh, you're a hugger," Dean said.

I chuckled despite my heart racing when Sam introduced himself as my boyfriend. "This is for you, Mrs. Y/L/N," Dean said, handing my mom the bottle of wine. She thanked him and took the bottle.

Before I could say anything, my mom was leading Sam and Dean into the kitchen. Sam stopped for a second and looked over at me, noticing my expression. He grabbed my hands and pulled me close to him. "Boyfriend?" I questioned.

He shrugged and leaned down to lightly kiss me. With that, the two of us stepped away from the foyer and to the kitchen, where my mom was showing Dean around.

Taglist: @nix-rose @nyotamalfoy

[destinygoldenstar]

☀️Everyone In The Final Four Has Cold Blood☀️ - Total Drama Viewer Reacts to Disventure Camp Season 1 Episode 12 “Trials & Trip-ulations ”

Heyo!

Y'all probably thought I dropped the show after last episode.

No. I was just busy with life. That's why this took awhile to come out.

Final Four. Home Stretch.

I think I only like one of the four. XD

But that's usually how it is with Total Drama. That's why I'm never really bothered with none of my favs being here. The only time I was actually bothered with it was in Total Drama Action, but like, the reason there was because Harold and Lindsay genuinely would've made for well written finalists, while all the other options were ASS. Beth was a very unlikeable floater who did nothing all season, Courtney was a ruthless villain so it was obvious she wouldn't win, Owen was a finalist last season and was only there to be a mole, and Duncan was... well, Duncan. I like Duncan as a character, but not as a finalist. At least with how it was handled in that season.

So I fully expect the villains of these things to make it far, and the messy characters to make it far because... it's Total DRAMA. It's not Total FRIENDSHIP. This ain't My Little Pony.

I CAME HERE FOR DRAMA, DAMMIT.

As long as I can understand what the writers are going for with their Final Fours, I don't really care about Elimination Order. That's not a factor of 'bad writing', at least for me. I only hate it when it's blatantly obvious the writers didn't know what they were doing with their choices.

I don't think that's the case here. I called Ellie. I called Fiore. I predicted that. Alec and Miriam are a SHOCK. I thought Alec was gonna be an early boot. And Miriam completely went under my radar. But I DEFINITELY do not hate that she's still here.

So yeah, I think Elimination Order is a pretty overrated criticism for Total Drama. That’s just my opinion.

So yeah... let's see what happens in this Penultimate Episode.

WAIT.

OMG.

LOOK.

THERE'S A HEART CARVING ON THE WALL❤️😭

Guys.

Guys.

Episode 10 is not canon. Okay? That was some leftover recycled content from the Beta that OddNations accidentally put in that playlist. That's Beta content. The remake is canon. That episode is not canon. It is not official. Tom and Jake are FINE. They're FINE. THEY WORKED THINGS OUT. THEY'RE OKAY. THEY'RE HAPPY TOGETHER AND WORKING THROUGH THEIR ISSUES TOGETHER. NOTHING HAPPENED BETWEEN THEM. THEY'RE AT THE MOTEL RIGHT NOW CUDDLING AND BEING HAPPY AND ORDERING CHINESE FOOD.

THEY ARE FINE. NOTHING HAPPENED. ALRIGHT?!?!?!?!

Goddammit, they're not even here anymore. What am I even saying?

But I swear to god, whether it's this season or Season 3. It better end with Jake and Tom getting that Chinese Date.

I will FLIP OUT if that's actually what happens.

"Is it food?"

"No, better, it's letters from home!"

"Oh. Eh."

XD

Honestly, I'm not surprised she had that reaction.

Whoever Fiore's parents are, um... they should be in jail. That's all I'll say.

MIRIAM IS A CAT PERSON?!

10/10. Best character. She better win.

Its probably not plausible, but you know, I can hope.

Oh...

Oh that's sad...

Her son has a pride pin. Wow. No wonder her and Jake got along.

"I got a letter from my dad saying how proud he is. And... three unpaid bills. If my father's letter didn't motivate me to win, this definitely will."

GIRL.

You ALMOST make me feel bad for you.

ALMOST. I'm still mad about the death threat you gave Jake.

"Wow. You're faster than I thought."

"I mostly skimmed it. Don't act like you don't do it too when you find a book boring."

Damn.

Her family life is THAT bad.

"You really hate them, don't you?"

"No, I'm just not interested. I'm sure it's from my parents, blaming themselves for my behaviors like there's really something wrong with me. Anyway, I don't care. In a few days I'll be a millionaire and I'll have several slaves to do whatever I want."

UM-

Um... I don't want to be THAT person Fiore, but...

There IS something wrong with you.

I'm sorry, but age doesn't convince me of anything. You are an awful, psychopathic human being, and you should be put behind bars.

"She opened her feelings about us... it turns out that maybe, by trying so many times to stay together, I've only been hurting her."

"I hate to say I told you so."

I mean that was always gonna happen, right?

I mean Alec isn't a character that interests ME personally, and that's a complete me thing. But from what we've heard, he MIGHT be a shit family guy.

Not as bad as Peter Griffin, but you know what I mean.

"Regardless of whether I win or not, I'll move when I get back. Away from my wife. I now realize that the love in our marriage was lost a long time ago."

That's probably a good idea.

I mean, I'm a lot younger than this man. I'm not married. And my current relationship is actually WONDERFUL THANK YOU VERY MUCH. So, I can't really comment on this cause I can't relate to it.

Good for him though... I guess...

"You know, if you want to pay those bills, we have to vote Alec out."

THANK YOU.

HOW MANY EPISODES DID THAT TAKE FOR YOU TO REALIZE THAT ALEC CAN'T BE TRUSTED?!

"Don't worry, no matter what, I'm not voting for you tonight."

That's gotta be a lie.

Miriam, you gotta avenge Tom and Jake. You can't spare her.

"We can try to flip Fiore to our side."

HOW 'BOUT NO?!

I JUST REALIZED MIRIAM'S THE ONLY TEAL TEAM CHARACTER LEFT.

The Merge started with, what, FIVE of them, and now in the Final Four there's only ONE?! THAT'S CRAZY

I mean Ellie swapped to Teal that one episode, but you know what I mean. She originated from Purple, so whether or not she counts is debatable.

"Today's challenge will be played in pairs."

Oh how lovely.

Miriam is screwed.

"The teams will be random."

Oh boy. Here we go.

WELL DAMN. MIRIAM IS SCREWED.

Goodbye to all the nice characters. Nice knowing all of ya.

A villain is winning this season.

"I'm stuck working with Alec... again."

At least you're FORCED to this time. I can accept that.

"You guys gotta cliff dive into the area below!"

TOTAL DRAMA REFERENCE.

THE MOST ICONIC FIRST CHALLENGE OF THAT SHOW EVER.

*Gets a... suggestive ad*

Okay. YouTube. Why? I-I can't even talk about that without getting flagged. Stop it.

An ad like that is allowed on YouTube, and yet people get demonetized for saying the F word.

Aaaaaaaannnnnnddd you both are gonna feel that in the morning.

Not as bad as what happened to Harold though.

AIN'T NO WAY

OH MY GOD

AIN'T NO WAY

That's awesome.

10/10 reference. Love that.

Oh come on Miriam. I thought you had good aim.

Imagine if there were sharks here like in the Total Drama one.

"This is the only time in my life I will gladly commit child murder."

I DID give Miriam slay pass, so you know, she's just using it.

Blame ME for the child abuse in this episode. I'm the one who gave her the slay pass.

Technically I gave it to Jake, but he's not here anymore and HE gave it to Miriam, so...

"UGH, how I hate that *BLEEP*"

Oh god...

I WILL say, the swearing is inconsistent in this show.

In Total Drama, ALL swearing is censored.

With the exception of the 'uncensored' version of the show, the version I watch, where they can say 'shut up' or 'crap' or 'boobies', which I would argue are not even that bad. ALL severe swearing of Total Drama is censored.

In this show, it's NOT all censored. They've said stuff like 'asshole' 'shit' 'goddamn' 'bitch' and even 'fuck' a couple times. Very casually mind you. And like, anyone who's been in middle school can get used to that language so it doesn't mind me. (I actually don't use that language out loud in real life, it's just text that I have no problem using it.) But then you have Grett's F bomb censored in her elimination, and you have this being censored.

I get it, YouTube, pain in the ass regulations. But it's because of that a moment like this does not hit NEARLY as hard as, say, Lindsay cussing out Heather.

Yes her swearing is censored, but that's also what makes it catch you off guard, it's funnier, and it's EASILY one of the most iconic moments of the entire show.

I'm just saying, if you're gonna swear, SWEAR.

If you're not gonna swear, at least make the censorship consistent.

(Digital Circus is a WONDERFUL example of how to do this right)

OH GOD THAT WAS A HEAD SLAM

I want to say I feel bad for the six year old getting abused, but...

I don't.

"I'm not saying I called it, but Trevor, you owe me five dollars."

That's ANOTHER Total Drama reference.

In their penultimate episode of the first season, Chris and Chef made a bet on who would barf first from the dares the campers were doing.

That's a smaller detail people probably don't remember. But I DID.

I'm not a Total Drama expert. I don't know everything about this show. BUT. I DARE YOU to tell me with a straight face, brutally honest, that you legit found THIS reference to TD on your first viewing of this episode.

YOU PROBABLY DIDN'T.

I AM AN ACE AT THE TOTAL DRAMA KNOWLEDGE TEST.

YES I AM CURRENTLY BRAGGING, WHAT'RE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?!

*Patreons*

We're not even halfway through the episode, holy shit we are in for it with this one.

Oh the cafeteria is built! Wow!

They're definitely using this in Season 2.

(You guys want me to watch Season 2? Cause I can do that)

"Do you think she could be persuaded?"

Uh, how do I put that? You betrayed her, say, THREE TIMES?

That's a no.

"Of course. It'd be easier to beat a little girl like you than Miriam in the finale."

"TCH. THANKS DUDE. THAT REALLY MAKES ME FEEL GOOD ABOUT MYSELF."

Fiore, you're worse than an old lady, how does that feel?

"Ellie, you have to stop winning these challenges."

"Uh... thanks, I'll just throw I guess."

"If you win, you'll go straight to the final with Alec. Think about your chances of winning against him versus with me or Fiore."

Yeah, that's a really good point...

Miriam's still gonna beat your ass in the finale, but still.

She's gonna slay Ellie SO HARD and it's gonna be SO EMBARASSING.

"I don't think she wants to go to the final with Alec knowing that she will lose."

Yeah.

I'm telling you, Fiore does not give a SHIT about Alec. She'll ditch him in a heartbeat.

I say that like I didn't see last episode...

Maybe she does care. But she'll still ditch him.

"I promise."

*Oreo ad*

I guess they're sharing Oreos with this promise.

W-what?

What am I watching right now??

"No Trevor that's not dancing you're having a seizure."

XD

"But dancing is a great way to relieve some stress and to have some fun, according to my horoscope it's the best way to express your feelings!"

Honestly, facts, as someone who uses Just Dance to workout.

That won Trevor some points for me.

"We spent years trying to have our own reality show and now our dream is finally a-a reality haha, see what I did there?"

Is this trying to make me care about these hosts?

It's too little too late, but I'll take it.

"No more wildlife so we can film in different areas without the activists getting all up in a bunch."

YOU ARE MURDERERS. I DO NOT FORGIVE YOU.

Even CHIRS MCLEAN, THE FATHER OF ALL SOCIOPATHIC HOSTS, ISN'T A MURDERER.

Though he has attempted multiple times.

"Dude, we've already lost three cameramen to the grizzly bears alone."

Is there REALLY no other solution to your problem?

FENCES? ZOOS? Anything??

"WE don't need to do it. Jensen will."

OH THAT MAKES A DIFFERENCE.

Oh fire making. That's a Survivor thing, right?

I'm surprised Total Drama didn't do this.

I guess this sabotage is allowed. Okay.

I've seen worse cases in Total Drama, I guess.

Fiore just keeps getting SLAMMED.

And I do not feel bad for her AT ALL.

SHE JUST THROWS THE CHILD XD

Miriam, you are AWESOME.

"That hurt!"

"We won!"

Miriam is cold blooded, OMG

EVERYONE in this Final Four is cold blooded.

Oh it's that sound effect...

Should I put the 'Keep Reading' label here then????

I'm gonna do it.

"You and I can also work together to become the final two after that."

GODDAMN. MIRIAM, YOU'RE COLD.

Okay, this is DEFINATELY a Survivor thing.

"You cannot grab the top with your hands and your feet must be on the line."

Oh. Okay. I was gonna say 'just wrap your feet around the pole' but you can't do that.

"Sounds easy."

"For you, yes, cause you're small."

But she's a child, wouldn't that make her less capable of endurance than Ellie and Alec?

How are you already slipping? We just started!

I say that like I would do better. I probably wouldn't.

NO MIRIAM

"You're much lighter than me. Do you think you can last longer?"

Oh you're not slipping and trusting Ellie, are you?

You're a dumbass.

"But unfortunately, I can't have us winning this."

YOU DUMBASS.

Does Ellie have my forgiveness for this???

Um...

That's a debate. First you apologize for the death threat. THEN we'll talk.

"What if they can't agree?"

"In that case, you and Ellie would go to one last challenge to decide who gets eliminated."

Oh really?

Is that what we're gonna do?

...or is Fiore gonna ditch Alec's ass? Did I call it?

"I choose Ellie. And I won't change my mind."

Okay.

"Well... I..."

Moment of truth.

She's gonna ditch him.

"Alec... I really liked you, and that's dangerous, because feelings are for weak people."

OH.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH.

"I vote to take Ellie to the final."

I. FUCKING. CALLED IT.

😂

GET FUCKED, ALEC!!!!! GET! FUCKED!!!!!

"But after all I've done?! I protected you this whole game! I helped you win the zombie apocalypse challenge, saved your life in the cave, covered up your plans so no one would suspect you're a PSYCHOPATH, and you STILL eliminate me?!"

THAT'S ON YOU, YOU DUMBASS.

WHY WOULD YOU TRUST HER?!?! SHE'S A PSYCHOPATH! YOU KNEW THIS. YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN IT COMING.

"Yes, thanks for all that, but I don't need you anymore."

👏😂👏

SHE DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU.

WHAT DID I SAY?!

Yeah, she cares about literally nobody.

She WILL ditch these guys on the bus the moment she has the chance.

And she's gonna show no remorse doing it.

And when that happens I'm gonna be HOWLING.

WELL HERE I AM.

SHE DITCHED HIM, NO REMORSE, AND I AM HOWLING.

AWOOOOOOOOOOOO

I CALLED THIS.

"Oh come on Alec, out of everybody, you're the last one who should be talking about feeling betrayed."

GET. HIS. ASS.

"This doesn't concern you. Keep it to yourself, Ellie."

You betrayed her three times. She DOES get a right to say that!

See, THIS is a good moment of Ellie ROASTING someone who fucking DESERVES IT.

"Your parents were right about you. You are a mistake."

"Oh. I know. And I don't care. Oh, and I bet you'd know a lot about making mistakes."

AWOOOOOOOOOOOO

I do not feel bad for Alec at all. Let's be real. HE DESERVED THIS.

YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE PUT YOUR FATE IN THE HANDS OF THIS PSYCHOPATHIC CHILD. THAT IS ON YOU.

GOODBYE, SIR.

🎉FINAL THREE!!!🎉

We're really going the TD Reboot route with this, huh?

It's an ALL WOMEN finale, too! That is a TREAT.

Total Drama never had an all women finale. They had ONE finale with both finalists being boys, i.e Revenge of the Island. But NO all women finale.

Okay, that was the episode.

GOOD LORD, THAT ENDING FELT GOOD.

I'm sorry, but after FOUR eliminations with three of them being my favs and the previous two eliminations BREAKING ME and DEPRESSING ME respectively, I NEEDED THIS.

I NEEDED A BOOT THAT WAS STRAIGHT UP SATISFYING.

I don't hate Alec or anything, he's just not one of my favs. I feel like I've reacted to his scenes the least of the Merge characters.

I think my take on his is Objective vs Subjective.

Objective he's a good character with a somewhat compelling character motive of his family, and a nice dynamic with Fiore. Plus he's one of the few characters to not be so overdramatic. So I can see how that would appeal to some people. (Idk how many Alec Stans there are)

Subjectively I just don't find him as interesting as some of the others. One reason being I can't relate to his story and struggles, which is completely personal as I've never been through any of that. Second, I'm just personally more invested in characters with more emotional range to them. In Total Drama, I expect characters to be, well, full of drama. So the messier more dramatic characters catch my eye more than someone who stays away from a lot of the drama.

But I can also see how people who hate the drama would like Alec. (Why you watching Total DRAMA if you hate drama then? Not shaming, just asking)

He's a nice character. But for me, he's a dirty backstabber, he's an assistant to a psychopath, he's implied to be horrible to his family, so yeah, FUCK HIM, GOODBYE.

Next episode is the finale, so we're almost done with the season! Yay!

Ellie and Fiore, I called as finalists since the Merge.

Fiore's the villain, so of course she'd be a threat in the finale.

I would maybe have considered the idea of her being fourth like what the TD Reboot did. BUT the TD Reboot had another character that was willing to play dirty in Julia's place, and Alec's got NOTHING on Bowie, sorry not sorry. (Bowie's my favorite TD Reboot character)

Ellie, I called since the Merge. Compelling motive to want to win. She had Gwen energy. Well, Gwen energy but much dirtier with some of her tactics. Some tactics I hate, but that's subjective. I can see her winning, honestly. I said this before. She screams 'winner' energy.

Miriam is a SHOCK. I... WOW.

I never hated Miriam, but she definitely grew on me after Episode 5. I see Ellie winning but I'm personally on Miriam's side. She's just a sweet, sassy, capable, and wholesome lady with some great dynamics with other characters.

Idk why, but Miriam never screamed 'finalist' for me. She was always under my radar in terms of the thought of 'who could win this'.

BUT, I will say, I DEFINATELY DO NOT HATE THIS.

Miriam is a good finalist choice.

Anyway, idk if this will get any attention because of the Season 3 finale, but hey, I can continue these if you guys seem interested and entertained by them.

[aquared46]

Left Unsaid

Note: AO3 is down, life is pain. My fics are normally locked to registered users, but in these trying times, I wanted to share some here (godspeed to the volunteers from AO3; you are fandom's lifeblood.

TW: blood, needles

Summary: Neil begins to practice with knives again and all does not go as planned.

The pull of thread through his skin was what finally calmed Neil’s racing heart. His hands steadied, the burn of alcohol in his stomach a strange comfort. A bottle of vodka pilfered from Kevin’s stash sat beside Neil on the sink, which was littered with bloody gauze that he used to stanch the bleeding and painkillers that wouldn’t kick in well or fast enough. The alcohol wouldn’t dull the pain – not unless he drank enough – but then he wouldn’t be able to take care of the wound anyway. Still, there was something to be said for the placebo effect, even if he knew that’s all it was.

He tied off another stitch, took another gulp of the alcohol, then continued. Neil and his mother were only able to stop and bandage their wounds like this unless they were safe – safe enough, that is. He could almost feel her beside him again, hands clinical and as she tended to him.

“Stupid,” he whispered to himself – but the inflection, the tone, all belonged to her.

The injury would put him out of practice for at least two weeks. Even he wasn’t foolish enough to think he could hide the gash spanning halfway across his palm. He wouldn’t last half-an-hour on the court without tearing it open in his gloves, and someone was sure to notice the pain while he was playing, even if no one noticed the bandages before that. The last time Neil hid an injury, Wymack threatened to take him off the court for twice as long as it took him to heal, and Neil was sure he’d follow through on the threat if he did it again. Especially so early in the season.

The familiar motions of fixing himself up calmed him better than counting ever could. This was something Neil was good at. Something that he hated, but something that gave him focus. Clean up meant that the worst of it was over – for now. A brief reprieve.

Neil used to wish he could stop time. That he could stay frozen in those brief moments with his mother – in crappy motels or dingy gas station bathrooms – where he could breathe, feel the comfort of her running a hand through his hair and pushing his aching body toward a bed or a car for much needed rest. Because soon enough, they’d be tracked down again.

That was how Neil felt now. Hunted. He knew when he chose to stay at Palmetto he’d deal with more threats to his life. The FBI continued their investigation, hurtling towards trials against his father’s associates in which Neil would testify.

Neil was used to his life being at stake. Except now he couldn’t bear to lose everything for a second time. So, when the FBI called to inform him that they were taking additional security measures due to substantiated threats, Neil decided to take his safety into his own hands as well.

And that’d gone even worse than he thought it could.

Now Neil had to clean the blood off one of Andrew’s knives as well as the carpet, and explain to Wymack that he wasn’t able to play because he’d been practicing with knives for the first time in years.

Neil heard the front door to their dorm close. He finished bandaging the wound, then heaved himself off the toilet. The room spun momentarily. He hadn’t lost nearly enough blood to be so affected, but the earlier panic mixed the alcohol wasn’t doing him any favours. He tossed the bloodied gauze in the trash and wiped down the counter until it was pristine again. Then he cleaned the knife carefully, knowing how much Andrew cared for them.

There was pounding on the door before he finished.

“I need the bathroom,” Kevin demanded.

“And I need another minute,” Neil said. He wrapped the blade in a towel, considering the fact that Kevin wouldn’t like the image of Neil bloody and holding a knife anymore than he did.

There was a grumble and footsteps as Kevin backed off. There was a pause, then he raised his voice from further away. “Why is there blood?”

“I’m fine,” Neil said. Except there was blood staining the front of his orange shirt where he held his hand against it to initially stop the bleeding. It stuck to his skin. Neil wanted to hop in the shower and wash the feeling and the scent away, but he didn’t have the forethought to bring a spare pair of clothes in with him.

Neil checked to make sure the bathroom was tidy one more time. He tucked the remainder of the vodka under his arm, stepped out, and met Kevin’s appraising gaze.

“You’re fine,” Kevin said. He ignored the bundle Neil was carrying in his good hand and instead focused on the bandage wrapped around his injured one. “Can you play?”

“No,” he spat, hating the answer more than Kevin ever could. Neil pushed past him. He placed the bundled knife on his bed.

“How long?” Kevin asked. “How bad?”

Neil shoved the vodka bottle back at Kevin, making him almost drop it. “Not long. Not bad.”

Kevin at least relaxed a little at that. “What’s not bad? What were you doing? You know if this happened when we had any games what this could mean for you? For the team? For –”

“I know,” Neil said. He pushed past Kevin to his dresser, where he pulled out a change of clothes.

Kevin followed after him. “Then why –”

Neil retreated back into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face. It took Kevin a few seconds to knock again, no more politely than the first time.

“I still need the bathroom!”

“Find another one.”

~ ~ ~

Kevin hadn’t returned by the time Neil got out of the shower. But Andrew had. Neil hadn’t heard him come back. But he was sitting on Neil’s bed, examining his knife with a bland expression.

Glancing at the clock, Neil could see they still had a couple hours before they were supposed to be in practice, but that also meant that Andrew was supposed to be in class. Instead, he was here, looking like he couldn’t care less that Neil was standing next to the drying bloodstain he left on the carpet.

Kevin must’ve messaged him.

Neil tossed his dirty clothes into a bag so they wouldn’t bleed on the rest of his laundry and decided to deal with them later. He pulled on a pair of running shoes, feeling Andrew’s eyes on him.

“Staring,” he said.

Andrew stood, stepping into Neil’s space. “Where are you running off to?”

“Store,” Neil said. He nodded towards the stain. “Need supplies.” It’d been so long since he had to clean up his own blood, he wondered if he set a record for himself.

Andrew backed away, put on his shoes, slid the knife into his armband, and grabbed a box of cigarettes.

“You coming?” Neil asked.

Andrew didn’t answer. He headed out, leaving Neil to catch up after locking their door. He lit up just before they left the dorm, exhaling a puff of smoke as the door swung shut behind them. Neil snagged the cigarette and Andrew let it go without comment, simply shaking another one from his pack.

The smell helped chase away the anxiety that was creeping back up on him. Neil and Andrew spent almost every night up on the roof smoking since Neil received the call from the FBI. The circles under Andrew’s eyes were almost as bad a Neil’s, but he had yet to complain. He’d watched Neil closely this past week, like he was waiting for him to finally give into his urge to run.

Neil chose to stay months ago, and he wasn’t going back on that decision now.

The on-campus store didn’t have everything Neil wanted, but he would make do. He doubted he’d be the first or the last fox to leave a bloodstained floor behind. If it didn’t come out, they could throw a rug over it.

Andrew grabbed himself a couple pints of ice cream, as well as some candy bars to add to his stash. They left with their respective bags, Neil’s filled with cleaning supplies and a bag of mixed nuts Andrew dropped into his basket without comment. He ate them on the way back to the dorm, feeling significantly better once he had something in his stomach.

Back at the dorm, Andrew settled on Neil’s bottom bunk with crossed legs, spoon already digging into the first pint of ice cream – double chocolate fudge. He watched Neil as he pulled out the cleaning supplies and set to work.

After a few minutes, the stain looked significantly better, but Neil would be lucky if he managed to get it out of the carpet. It was fine. When Neil was on the run, they just had to clean up enough that questions wouldn’t be asked until they were long-gone. Not that anyone in those cheap hotels would stick their nose into anything they didn’t have to. It wasn’t like they had a professional-grade carpet cleaner, not like when they lived with Neil’s father – where everything would be wiped away and made pristine in case of unwanted guests.

Neil jolted as something ice-cold pressed against the back of his neck. He spun to see Andrew, spoon stuck in his mouth as he held his pint out. Now that he had Neil’s attention, he settled back on the bed and dug in for another bite.

Neil finished the job and gathered all the trash, including his bloodied gauze from earlier. After some deliberation, he added his ruined shirt. The pants were dark-coloured and salvageable, but the same couldn’t be said for the vibrant orange Palmetto shirt, as much as Neil liked it. Andrew passed him the empty pint of ice cream to add to the bag, then grabbed the next one.

“Try not to get lost on your way back,” Andrew said. In other words, he’d be waiting for Neil.

He made the trip quickly, not even pausing when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Andrew wouldn’t be the one messaging him, and he didn’t feel like talking to anyone else, especially if it was Kevin ordering him to do things he already knew he had to do. Like see Abby.

He managed not to get lost in his own head and made the short trip to the dumpster and back without being assassinated, otherwise harmed, or running into another one of the Foxes. Small victories. By the time he collapsed onto his bed beside Andrew, he felt wrung out.

He pillowed his head with his good hand and watched Andrew methodically pick his way through his second pint of ice cream. Once finished, Andrew set it down where it’d be in Kevin’s line of sight, which would no doubt spark another rant about healthy sugar intake and professional athlete’s diets.

Andrew reached for Neil’s hand, fingers chilled from holding the pints. Neil didn’t resist as Andrew unwrapped his bandage, viewing the damage Neil did to himself.

“I’d have thought you’d know better than to play with knives,” he said.

“I know what I’m doing,” Neil said.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“It’s been years since I’ve handled them.” He hated practicing when he was a child, always knowing he wouldn’t perform well enough and be punished for it. When he and his mother ran, he stopped training. As she said, the only thing he needed to know about knives was where to stick one to do the most damage. Other than that, the most important weapon in their arsenal was the single gun they had between the two of them. His mother usually carried it, but she still taught Neil how to aim and shoot in case he ever needed to.

Andrew wrapped Neil’s hand back up, returning it to him. “More fox than rabbit now? Finally showing your teeth?”

“Something like that.” Neil cradled his hand to his chest. “I’d rather not.”

“Then why?”

Neil shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice.”

That finally got a frown. “Explain.”

When Neil didn’t respond, Andrew huffed and laid down next to him, scant inches between the two of them. Andrew kept his gaze on Neil, letting him look his fill without complaint. Andrew wouldn’t repeat himself, instead waiting for Neil to either answer or deflect.

“I want to be ready if they come for me again,” Neil said. “I refuse to run. But I can’t do nothing either.”

“You chose to fight.”

Neil nodded.

“Idiot. You do realize you don’t have to fight alone?” Andrew reached out slow enough that Neil could pull away if he wanted to. Andrew cool fingers brushed a line against Neil’s throat. “Have someone with you.”

They both knew Andrew was the only one Neil would trust to see him like that.

Neil couldn’t help but smile. “You just want to steal my knife skills.”

“What knife skills? I see no skill here.”

Neil sat up and held out his hand. After a moment, Andrew withdrew a knife and passed it to him. Neil let himself focus on how the knife felt in his hand, warmed from being close to Andrew’s skin. It belonged to Andrew, not Neil’s father. He refused to continue allowing his dead father to hold this over his head – especially when this was something that could save the life Neil put so much blood and sweat into creating.

His movements were still awkward, but the remembrance of the skill he used to carry was still there. After a few moments, Neil found the balance of the blade and threw it at dartboard he was practicing on earlier. It sunk far enough off-centre that some old part of Neil curled up, awaiting pain.

He shoved that down and turned to face Andrew. “Work in progress,” Neil said.

Andrew hummed without inflection. He eyed the knife in the dartboard for a moment more, then closed a hand around Neil’s wrist and pulled him back down onto the bed. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Neil pressed his hands into the bed as Andrew leaned over him. He arched into the kiss – all-devouring, a mixture of tongue and teeth that left Neil’s legs feeling weak.

Andrew steadied himself with an elbow beside Neil’s head, their chests almost touching. Andrew’s other hand cupped Neil’s cheek, thumb swiping over the burns on Neil’s face gently. Then he pushed Neil’s face to the side for access to his neck.

“Oh,” Neil breathed as Andrew’s lips pressed against his throat. “You liked that.”

“Shut up,” Andrew said, nipping hard enough to leave a mark.

Neil wouldn’t have listened, but Andrew’s mouth met his again, and then he couldn’t think of anything instead of returning the kiss. His palm ached from when he was gripping the sheets, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when he could feel the warmth of Andrew’s body all around him.

“Shoulders and up,” Andrew said against Neil’s lips. He relaxed down far enough that their chests were moving together as they breathed in tandem, but not enough to truly put his weight on Neil.

Neil threaded his fingers through Andrew’s hair, then dropped one hand to brace against his shoulder. Neil lost himself in the kiss, his world narrowing down to the way Andrew felt against him, the faint taste of chocolate on his tongue, the spicy scent of Andrew’s deodorant, the sound of their combined breathing and Neil’s cut-off moans, and the starbursts behind his closed eyelids as Andrew took him apart.

Once Andrew pulled away, Neil cracked his eyes open and stared at the bars of the top bunk. He licked his kiss-swollen lips, feeling loose-limbed and floaty. He turned back towards Andrew, noting the flush on his cheeks and the mess Neil made of his hair. He grinned.

Andrew didn’t even open his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not,” Neil lied.

Neil wouldn’t let what they had slip through his fingers. He said he would stay, and he’d do everything he could to do to keep that promise. He’d fight in every way he was capable of.

A word sat heavy on his tongue – on his mind – coaxing and deceptively alluring despite the weight it would carry for both of them. Neil didn’t utter the words. He cut them off before they could fully articulate into thoughts. There were certain things he wasn’t ready for – didn’t know he’d ever be ready for.

To feel was one thing. To put into words was another.

But maybe that word was just another thing he was running from. He’d fought the memory of his father to reclaim the knives he wielded, and maybe that word was something he’d need to fight to reclaim from his mother.