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slushycoookie · 3 months

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Kissing Practice ~ Miguel O'Hara × Spider AFAB! Reader +18!!

A/N: Had this short idea late at night so enjoy this little somn somn. ALSO, thank you for the 100 followers!!! I'm happy you all really like my stuff. <3 (Ignore the format, I'm trying out different stuff).

Miguel froze, staring at you as the question you asked him replayed in his mind.

You wanted to practice kissing…on him. Out of all those days he spent pining on you, admiring you from afar, you go ahead and ask him this. He couldn’t believe it. He must be dreaming.

“I’m sorry…repeat that again.” He asked you, wanting to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

You rolled your eyes. “You heard me. I want you to help me practice kissing. For a guy I like.”

His shoulders deflated at that last sentence. Of course you weren’t asking to kiss him because you liked him. It was for someone else you liked. Not him.

“Why are you asking me?” He turned his back to you, pretending to go back to work and not be bothered by the pang in his chest.

“Because you’re my friend.” You maneuvered to get a good look at him, not wanting to be shut out. “And friends help each other with stuff.”

Miguel scoffed, the sound almost turning into a laugh. “Friends don’t ask other friends if they could practice kissing one another.”

“Not true.” You retorted, putting up a finger for emphasis, “Teenagers ask their friends all the time to help practice kissing.”

“We’re adults. Not teenagers.”

“I know. That means we’ll be more mature about it.”

His muscles tensed in slight annoyance. Your logic was terrible and didn’t make any sense at all. After all, why were you asking him out of all people? There were plenty of other spider people around your age you could run to. So why him?

As the lab was silent, you peered your face around to meet his eyes. “Come on. I wouldn’t ask anyone else.” He felt his shoulder getting poked by your finger. “I always think I don’t kiss that well. And I wanna get better at that. You seem like you have some experience…”

Miguel shut his eyes as he thought for a moment. This would get really bad fast if he didn't have any self-control. He always pictured kissing you, just not in these circumstances. But you were asking him. And you two were great friends. That’s exactly what he was doing. Helping out a friend.

“Fine.” His heart flipped at your squeal with joy, “Let’s do it now.”

You stopped at that, looking around as if anyone else heard him. “Right now?” He nodded. You weren’t expecting that response. Or for him to say yes. So you dug into the pocket of your spider suit, digging for something you said was very important. Your lip balm. The same one he’s watched you put on many times. How the red-colored product glided along your full lips. Adding a red tint to them. He had to resist staring at you directly, folding his arms as you smacked your lips.

“Okay. I’m ready.” You stood close to him, a small smile on your face. Your eyes were closed, lips puckered up and ready for a kiss. He stepped closer. Ignoring how the soft feeling of your body was against his. Miguel licked his dry lips before leaning down and pressing a small peck on your own. Hints of strawberry lingered around his nose while you blinked in question.

“Really? That’s it?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You sucked your teeth, “I said kiss, Miguel. Full on lip action. Not a little baby kiss.”

“That was a peck. Not a baby kiss.” He argued back, running his hand across his face.

“You heard what I said right? How am I going to learn from a peck?”

Miguel shook his head, stepping back into your space and placing a firm hand on your lower back. You were fully flushed against him as his other hand cradled your cheek. He leaned in and kissed you like you wanted. It was slow and gentle as he wanted to savor how you felt against his own lips. Kissing you like this was like the last time he was able to.

When he pulled away, your face was flushed. The red tint from your lip balm was a little faded, he was sure there was some on his lips. But he wanted to kiss you again.

“H-How was that?” You asked after clearing your throat.

Miguel shrugged, “You could be better.” Inside, you did perfectly. He didn’t understand why you needed practice in the first place. “We should keep practicing so you can get better.”

“Okay.” You nodded in agreement, “How does tomorrow sound?”

He had to hold himself back from smiling, “Tomorrow sounds great.”

Everyday he set some time for you to come into his lab and kiss him. It was only for ten minutes. Ten minutes of holding you close, enjoying your soft lips against his own. And then pulling away as if nothing happened.

There were times when you wanted to switch it up. Add tongue or a bite on the lip. Miguel was happy to oblige as you allowed his tongue to slip in, gliding along your own with fervor. Giving a gentle nip to your bottom lip whenever he pulled away. He took note of the sounds you made each time you kissed. And there were times he got carried away, his groans mixing in with your moans. And it took all the strength he had to not take it further. Because this was for someone else you liked.

“What about during sex?”

He almost choked on his cold coffee, “What? What do you mean?”

“You know, kissing during sex? I was never good at that either.”

Miguel’s talons were digging into the console. You weren’t suggesting��?

“You want to kiss during sex?” You nodded quickly and he took a deep breath. “That’s not…You should ask somebody else…”

You waved him away, “It’s just kissing during sex. No big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal.” He was over you again, chest heaving. But Miguel wasn’t angry. The complete opposite. He was making sure that you really wanted to do that with him. Be completely intimate. You didn’t back down, taking this entire conversation casually.

“There’s no one I’d rather do it with.”

Miguel’s lips rarely left yours. Not as he peeled your clothes away from you at his apartment. Placing you on the bed as if you were delicate. Even as he thrusted into you. Feeling your walls stretch around him as he kissed you with infatuation. He took everything from you. Your pleasant cries drowned against his embrace. He was determined to show you that the person you did like should be doing this to you. Not anyone else. Not even him.

He was emotional as he sat on the end of his bed. Miguel knew you all shouldn’t do this again. Especially after you tell this guy that you like him. He wondered who it could be. Who stole your heart before he could?

You shifted against him; eyes lowered in satisfaction. He stared at you as if you were in a dream. Someone he couldn’t get enough of.

“Miguel?” He hummed when you called, wondering what you needed. “You’re the guy I like.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #slushycoookie writes

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katiefrog217 · 27 days

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Ineffable May 2024 Day 1: [Before the Beginning]

Aziraphale was quite content. It had happened, he thought to himself, quite by chance that he'd been passing by this corner of space, on the way to his next job. It was chance he was flying by when the Starmaker called out to him, in need of assistance. He thought that it was going to be a quick little thing: he'd stop, help out, then be on his merry way. Just as all things had gone. And yet, as he watched the Starmaker talk animatedly about his work, his hands flailing excitedly as he explained the certain concepts of physics and light that the Principality had yet to be introduced to, he found himself hesitating. He wished to stay with this joyful angel, to stay beneath the outstretched wing he had offered to him when the debris fell upon him. The Starmaker seemed to forget to retrieve his wing, even now, though the shower had long passed and Aziraphale found himself in no hurry to remind him. "It's fascinating, isn't it?" The Starmaker said, shooting him a smile. Aziraphale blinked - he had been so caught up in his own thoughts while watching the angel's shifting expressions that he'd completely missed what he'd said. "Quite right," he agreed anyway with a small smile and nod of his head. The Starmaker didn't seem to notice his momentary lapse in attention, and beamed at him. Aziraphale thought he shown as bright as the stars he seemed to adore so much. He felt a new sensation swelling in his chest as his companion launched into a new topic - something about elements? Helium? - and wondered if he should be concerned. He dismissed the though moments later, reasoning to himself that it didn't hurt, it just felt... warm. He was happy. Therefore, it was not an issue if he ignored it for now. He nodded agreeably when the Starmaker addressed him again, and asked a well selected question to keep the angel on his tangent. No one would miss him if he stayed a bit longer, he thought.

@blairamok is hosting a Good Omens prompt event this year and I MIGHT have panicked and spent the last 7 ish hours on this haha. I'm still not 100% confident with how I translate the Ineffable Husbands to my style, but I quite like how this turned out, and I hope ya'll do too! :)))

I haven't slept in 24 hours and I haven't done prompt based things before so I hope this turned out alright I don't even trust my own brain rn

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vvenus-child · 4 months

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❀ an: my first Dean x Reader fic! this was a wild dream I had last night where I could just feel his angst of being ignore by his girlfriend-not-girlfriend. I hope you like it! I post on Ao3 too, mostly Dramione and original works. Here is the link. Feel free to DM me ideas to write down too! ❀ tags: Dean Winchester x Reader; NSFW (just a bit); Angst; Hurt/Comfort

Sam was waving at you from the driver's seat of a rental car. Something inside of chest pinched a bit for not seeing Dean's Impala waiting for you. Your feelings for him were so obvious, pathetic even.

"Hey! How was the hunt?", Sam asked when you closed the door. As usual you two made conversation for most of the ride before falling in comfortable silence. It was mostly like this with him. Sam was a easy person, someone people felt comfortable to share your or to stay in silence.

"Have you talked to him? Is he okay?", you asked sheepishly. The question was hanging in your head since the minute you left the bunker to hunt. Your heart felt tight, your throat sore and dry every time you thought about Dean. Most of it was embarrassment for not being able to contain your feelings, always seeking to be close, to take care of him somehow. But what was love if not the desire to see them happy? What was love if not seeking their happiness by being anything they needed you to be?

Sam laugh's cut your self pity session. He glanced at you in the corner of his eyes, side smile playing in his face like he was a joke you weren't part of.

"You gonna tell me you two didn't talk for the last weeks? He didn't call every night to bitch about how you were taking too long or how I'm never able to make coffee right? Really?", he said shaking his head.

His question caught you off guard for a moment. Frowning at him you took a minute to try and understand.

"No?", the weird assumption really didn't make sense, at least not when it came to Dean. You were the one that initiated the conversations. You were the one that always made sure small things like his coffee or his whiskey never ran out at the bunker. You were the one gravitating towards his presence in the room. So to think he would make the effort to call you, or even miss you, was a wild idea by far.

"Come on!", Sam snorted this time. "You two seem glue by the hip, it's impossible."

"Dean would even notice if I didn't said a word to him", you let out without thinking.

"Yeah, like you two don't spend time alone behind everyone's back"

The memories of the nights spent together, the moments you almost thought he was about to do something flashed in your mind. You couldn't almost smell his scent, hear his laugh, listen to his voice grave sharing bits of his life in the dark of his room when no one else was there to hear but you.

This was becoming ridiculous and painful. You tried to pretend, but it was not useful with Sam. He had a reason for being the one that they used to pry information out of people at hunts. Sam's damn eyes always made people break.

"You know this thing is one sided, so please stop with the jokes. It makes me feel more stupid than usual".

"It's not a joke", he said while parking the car. Sam turned to you with a raised hand. "I'll bet you 100 bucks that if you ignore him for the next few days, he will lose it."

You looked at the extended hand with caution. Right. 100 bucks. To prove your point, which was something you love to do and to stop being pathetic. Easy money. You took the bet without thinking twice. Maybe try to purge this feelings out of your system with a bit more of self respect was just the thing you needed.

You left the pie you bought for him at the trash can before going down to the bunker. Maybe this was going to be fun.

Dean heard the door open with a creak when Sam had finally came back. Behind him, you followed with a smile while saying something.

"Did you bring the pie I asked, Sam?", Dean shouted from the table. He was trying to find this lore about a sea creature that lured man but, supposedly, wasn't a mermaid because the bodies would be found on the shore with their blood drained. A great combination of little mermaid and Edward-fucking-Cullen.

Dean's eyes glanced to you carrying a huge bag over your shoulders. It had been weeks since you left. It was normal to not call during small hunts, but he still felt a bit uncomfortable to not have a single call. It was such a chore to make a phone call or even leave a voicemail every now and then? Just to make sure you were alive?

He opened his mouth to complaint just as you passed right through directly to your bedroom. No hello, hi, how are you, but still laughing at some joke he was not privy to. No tales about how it went, no nothing. That really bothered him for a reason he couldn't pin down. You didn't owned him a explanation, not at all, but it was basic courtesy - in his mind at least.

"Is she okay?", Dean asked Sam who, to anyone's surprise, didn't bring the goddamn pie but seemed to not have forgotten his own rabbit food.

Sam made a fake surprised face that showed him knew something was up.

"I don't know? She was just telling me how the hunt went. Maybe she is tired?"

Dean decided to let it go. He was already pissed about the pie and you acting weird was just the icing on top.

A few days later, Dean couldn't shake the feeling you were avoiding him. At breakfast you only talked and smiled to Sam or answered Dean's questions when directed at you - always with a brief phrase or a dismissive nod. You weren't being rude or down right ignoring him, not at all. Still felt like Dean was nothing but a small fly in your radar or someone you only noticed when he opened his mouth. The easy smiles you two had, the late night conversations, the shared beers, everything, seemed to be gone. It bothered him. It bothered him a lot.

Growing up Dean hadn't felt jealous of Sam most of the times. The kid was his to raised and take care of, especially when Sam's and John's fight got too heated. He had given his life for his brother and would so again in a heartbeat.

But right now he wanted to punch his face so hard his nose would touch the wall behind his back. The fucker knew what was going on and didn't let a pip out of his mouth to help. "She seems normal to me, Dean" this or "Stop being a freak, she didn't not ignore you" that.

The three of you were hunting the vampire-mermaid thing at Fremont Beach a little bit more that 12 hours from the bunker. The change in scenario did nothing to help Dean's situation and, if anything, it worsened. Usually in ride you would offer to drive, in which Dean would deny and say he was fine. This time you only offered to change when Sam was driving. You didn't even complaint about the music, for God's sake.

Dean's breaking point was the way you flirted a bit too much with the waiter at the dinner, an younger stupid college student who was all smiles for you. He didn't even had a beard. Not even a shadow of it. It was ridiculous.

"So what's the matter? You can talk to Mr. Just Came In My Pants but not to me?", Dean asked outright with his jaw clenching so hard his teeth were about to break. Sam chocked loudly with his coffee, while you just looked at him with wide eyes and mouth half open.

"I think I need to smoke a cigarette", Sam said getting up from the table.

Dean didn't let his gaze out of your face, anger boiling inside.

"You don't fucking smoke! Your brother lost his mind and you leave me?", you spoke in a loud whisper.

"I do now", Sam said already at the doors.

Dean waited for a answer. Your eyes, finally looking at his after weeks, blinked so much that he thought the question would've broke.

"I'm speaking to you, we are having this insane conversation right now. I don't know what you are talking about", you said coldly.

The warm feeling spreading in his chest hinted at something Dean didn't to explore. The jealousy, the anxiety about what was going on, all those were feelings he absolutely didn't want to explore. He just missed your company so much. Dean always felt something was wrong with him, something lacking, but when he was with you this feeling lessened. He felt worthy, he felt seen. John never sat down to talk to him, to spend time with him. Sam ran away the first chance he got. Mary... Mary was a whole other can of worms that he didn't want to open. He had Lisa and other people in his life, but they weren't like you. You two were made in the same cloth. The same strong material that would cover loved ones, would protect them. Same shitty childhood, same fuck-up parents. You were the one he shared his life with at all times, good or bad. More than friends or lovers or anything people would use to describe. Dean could point the term to save his life but you were his and the silent was slowly killing him more than any monster would.

"It was something I did?", he asked in a whisper. He jaw clenched in tension, voice raspy and sore from untold words.

Your eyes ran to the window for a second and he was ready to beg for them to come back. When you looked at him again they were filled with caution, your lips pursed in a way he knew you were choosing words carefully. If Dean didn't know you, he could've missed the pain there. Could've missed the blush in your check's or the way your bottom teeth bit your lower lip in worry.

"Because it's pathetic, isn't? The way I was all in your life, hanging around the edges waiting for crumbs of your attention. Waiting until the day you would notice me or how I feel. Even Sam, who is the most subtle person I know, mentioned it. So no, it's not something you did, it's something I did all the time and it needed to stop for both of our sake."

The weight of your explanation took a second to sink in. All that Dean tried to push down was now in the clear, finally acknowledged one of you two. He wanted to go over the table and kiss your lips, kiss you until the wasn't any air between you two. He wanted to act on the burning sensation he always felt when you got too close. He thought back to all those nights in the bunker, when it was late and both of you were just a bit pass tipsy and going on drunk and his eyes would linger longer on your lips or the curve of your neck. Dean thought back to the first time he saw you covered in blood, not yours but someone else's, and his cock got so hard he had to stroke himself twice just to get rid of the image.

"That's what you think?", was all he let out for a moment. "That you hang around the edges of my life?" Dean ran his hand over his lower face in frustration.

Your sarcastic laugh sounded so bitter to his ears.

"It's not what I think, it's what it is", you looked at him in defeat. "I love you and I don't care if you don't like me the same way. I know you care for me in some extend, of course, and I content to see you happy and being your friend or what you need at the moment. But maybe I needed a little time to settle my feelings", you shrugged.

He wanted to break something out of frustration. He could feel the anger burn his veins. All those days, running scenarios, trying to find the reason why this bothered him so much. The old self hate that steamed inside him late at night, his old company, making him formulate all the reasons he could've fuck up your... friendship? The word never felt right between you two. It was something else.

After a moment of silence Dean threw a couple bills at the table and took your hand, leading you both out the restaurant.

"What are you doing? Are you going insane?", you screamed trying to get out of his hold. He didn't let you go, however.

Dean searched with his gaze to see if Sam was around the car before throwing you inside and going right after. He pulled your hair in the back with a gentleness that didn't match the wild expression in his eyes.

"Look at me and listen carefully", he said between his teeth. The fire running thought his veins was even more intense now. Dean could feel your body under his branding him like iron. Your legs around his hips made his cock twitch with the slightness movement of your body. "You are not in the fucking edges. You are all around me. You are all I fucking see. If anything, everyone else is at the goddamn edge and you are in the damn center", he said each word getting closer and closer to your lips. He could smell your breath, something so yours that he couldn't find the correct word to compare. Dean swallowed hard before taking the last step.

His mouth closed down in yours making time stop. Dean groaned against your lips, biting down almost hard enough to break skin. He wanted to taste you, swallow you, in a manner that your being would never not be apart from his anymore. Your hands went up to his neck pulling him closer, trying to breach the barrier of clothes between your bodies.

"Please...", you begged against him, grounding your cunt against his cock. It was deliciously painful to have your body so pliant under him. Having you beg for his touch, a needy expression on your face.

"Shh...", he cooed, "I know... I know".

Dean's hand went down your neck stroking your skin until he got to your breasts, pinching your nipple with just the right pressure. His tongue stroked your lips in a slow, deliberated movement, tasting like starved man.

"I finally get what I want, so you have to be a good girl and take it, alright?"

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester smut #text post

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xstevex-world · 1 year

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(Part 1 of the pop star Chrissy AU)

“So what you’re saying is that you are 100% positive that I’ve spent my day with, not only an actual, real life international pop sensation; but the same Chrissy Cunningham that you have been fangirling over since senior year of high school?”

Robin hears Steve groan on the other end of the line. She can't blame him though, she’s made him explain her exact situation to her 3 times over.

“Yes Robin, that’s definitely her,” he sighs.

Robin falls back down on her bed, she can’t believe this. If she had been honest with herself, that entire day felt like a fever dream, a fantasy she had conjued up from weeks of sheer boredom. It was hard to ignore, the feeling that her day shared with her was a one time thing, especially after Chrissy apologetically declined to meet up with her the next day, saying she had to do work stuff.

Thinking about it, in retrospect, the signs were there. She had absolutely talked about how she worked in music and had been travelling a lot with it recently - yeah, Robin thought she was probably in a small band or was a session musician by the way she talked so casually about it.

But this? Shit, this whole situation she's found herself in? it’s like something out of those stupid romance novels her mom and Steve like talk about.

She always had it in her head that pop stars were meant to be over the top and flashy, but Chris just seamed so…sweet. She was listened to robin ramble on and on about everything and nothing, laughed loudly at her terrible jokes before giving her perspective or talking all about her own experiences

And when she smiled? She radiated happiness and joy as if she was the personification of the sun. There would be an etching of that smile in her brain for the rest of Robin's life.

“Robin!”’ His voices takes her out of her trace, grounding her in reality. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” is all she mandages to say.

“So you have two options,” Steve explains, and gods, she wishes he was here so she could at least see his eyes roll at her obvious awkwardness.

“The first is you just ignore that this whole meeting ever happened,” which, yeah is she absolutely not doing. Even if she never got to meet Chrissy again, at least she would still have the memory of meetng that deity of a human being.

“Or?” She asks, hoping that even 3637 miles away, Steve would be able to bring her down from her wild panic.

“Or; you listen to me and go see her.”

Steve has always been rather blunt, it’s what Robin likes so much about him. He tells her exactly what he means, no in between meaning to his statements.

“She’s playing a concert tomorrow night in the city, it’s probably why she said she couldn’t hang out tomorrow, she has sound checks and rehearsals and stuff," he explained, as if he knew her entire schedule (what was she kidding, he probably did.) "I'm going to get you a ticket, so you go to see her tomorrow night, enjoy the show, take a photo and dm her telling her how good her performance was, ok?”

He makes it sound so simple.

“But what if I go and do all this and it turns out that-“

“She’s straight? Robs, she’s very open about being bisexual-“

“No, dingus!” She yells into the receiver, running her hand through her hair. “What if I read the entire thing wrong and she was just being nice? I’m famously not good at reading the room and, for all I know, she could have thought this was just all a friendly thing that we have going? Like, listen to me Steve, I’m me, and if she’s the same pop sensation that you’ve talked drones about for as long as I’ve known you then what could she gain with a romantic endeavour with me? She could have anyone and not the person who she met yesterday who’s…”

“Who’s what, robs?”

She can’t answer that, knows if she says what she wants to that Steve will deny it, but she knows who she is - she’s annoying, too much all the time and knows that logically she wouldn’t be anyone’s first choice in friend, let alone girlfriend.

Sometimes she thinks it’s a miracle that Steve has been her friend for as long as he has.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he interrupts her inner monologue, voice softer than she’s used to with him. “But you have to stop thinking that you’re not good enough. The only person who’s allowed to talk shit about my best friend is me…and probably Erica, but I think she thinks you’re too cool to actually insult you much.”

Robins audibly snorts, falling back onto her bed.

As hard as it was being away from her family and the rest of their little friend groupd, the thing she misses the most is Steve. She was so used to having her platonic soulmate with her at all times, ready to latch onto for whatever the reason may be.

And right now? She could really use a hug, pecifically one from Steve "The Hair" Harrington.

“Robs, just trust me, she wouldn’t have spend they day following you around Paris is she wasn’t completely gone for you - she would have been at Disneyland with Corroded Coffin getting pictures with Darth Vader and shouting about how it's a capitalist utopia while eating the churros…" he pauses momentarily, and robin knows exactly what he's going to ask next. "...actually, speaking of, did she-?"

“Talk about Eddie Munson? Well, considering that I didn’t know that it was the same Eddie that you’ve had a raging boner over for the past year despite the fact-"

“Robin!”

“It’s true!” She yells, face now beaming from her laughter. “I’ll make you a deal, Stevie, if you plan works then I’ll put in a good word with Chrissy for you, she’s bound to know what gonna bring you into Munson’s raider-"

“Robin, stop!”

"-because I have some stories, Steve, and you’re lucky I was listening because if I didn’t like Chrissy so much I know wouldn’t remember, which would suck for you because i now know a few rather scandalous stories about the guy-"

“ROBIN!” Steve shouts through the receiver, making robin jump. “Focus!”

She shuts up, smiling to herself.

“I wish you were here, dingus,” she admits, rolling onto her stomach. “At least you’d be able to help me out, maybe, if this works, make sure I don’t pass out in front of her.”

“Of course it’s going to work” he states with every syllable oozing that signature Harrington’s smugness. “But only if you wear those plaid pants you have, the ones that hug your thighs in all the right places-“

“Gross, dingus!”

But sure enough, she listens, but if Steve’s right about one thing it’s how to leave a lasting impression, especially in the “you look good” department.

So, the following evening, she dons blue, plaid pants with a plain black tank, slicks back her hair using whatever hair products Steve left during his last visit and makes up her face: brushing electric blue pigments onto her eyelids before smudging kohl against her waterline.

It takes her serval pep talks in the mirror to finally convince herself to actually leave the apartment, but she did it, managed to walk to the venue and wait, nursing her beer whilst leaning against the against the back wall.

Robin kind of regrets not tagging along to all the Chrissy Cunningham concerts that Steve invited her too in the past, maybe then she would know what to expect.

(Or, maybe then, she wouldn’t be in this exact situation, but who was she kidding, of course she would be, nothing straight forward ever happens to her).

The entire thing is overwhelming, the venue has been crowded since before she arrived, (since it was well after the opening act ended) which really isn’t her scene. She’s already nervous and her hands won't stop shaking and she's about to call it quits, text Steve that she'll pay him back for the tickets in actual money rather than their original plan and walk out the doors of the theater where she can crawl back into bed and scream into her pillow-

The lights dim, and everyone around starts screaming as the first notes of the synth play, Chrissy's voice carrying through the room.

Robin can't help but stare, she's so beautiful, stunningly gorgeous with the voice of an angel, she doesn't even notice the rest of the band join her one by one or the two dancers who have a hand on Chrissy's shoulder. She doesn't even realise the opening number has finished, can't pay attention to anything other than the cascading curls of chrissys hair, the way her body moves in one with the music, the same smile that struck her heart in the first place- the smile that shines brighter than any spotlight ever could.

She doesn't register much, barely hears anything other than Chrissy sing about new moons, staying when she shouldn't or sending her love to Wayne; songs she know she's probably heard before, probably from (just being in close proximity to steve Harrington), but none of that matters, shes memorised by her.

And when the final act is coming to a close, she almost misses it, but she can feel eyes on her even this far to the back of the crowd.

Robin only meets Eddie Munson’s eyes for a second, impossibly wide eyes staring her down in disbelief before seeing his cue to exit the stage. She almost drops her half-drank pint, a string of curses running through her head - but the whole interaction has her frozen.

Her brain tells her to "RUN! GET OUT!" before it escalates any further, the churn of pure anxiety in her stomach reminding her that this was a stupid plan, she shouldn't have come. She cant do this, won't do this-

She leaves before lights go black.

⭐💘🎫🎤🎫💘⭐

So thank you all so much for the support on the first post, I was not expecting it to get traction buy you all loved it??? My heart is swelling omfg. Thank you for being patient with me with this part (I'm dyslexic and work full time, on top of just being very slow at producing, well, anything lol).

I'm hoping to have either 5 or 6 parts altogether if you guys keep enjoying it ((sorry not sorry to make you steddie fans sit through the Buckingham part first, Robin needs to get her girl!!!))

Shout out to my gf (who's not an st fan) for beta reading this with comments like "is Robin a useless lesbian?" Or "do they really say dingus in the show?" Or "wow, she really needs some loops!"

As a bonus treat, the concert playlist can be found here! Included are songs that represent or resemble the tracks on the set list of the gig that Robin goes too see (including the CCxCC material that would be played as the encore in the final three songs)

Taglist (if you wish to be added, I just ask you be polite about it x): @maya-custodios-dionach @papermachedragons @mildgendercrisis @vampiregirl1797 @lizard-dyk3 @hellomynameismoo @beckkthewreck @eboyawstenn @justmiiriam @gregre369 @korixae @victor-thee-corvid @yes-im-your-mom @bisexualdisastersworld @questionablequeeries

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cocogum · 4 days

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Each passing day I'm more and more convinced of the fact that Aurora is unworthy of the Sadida throne, not only because she's an Osamodas who refuses to have the one (1) person she actually needs around (Amalia), but because it's blatantly obvious she never cared about her husband's people and, more glaringly, his family.

And the biggest evidence I have of that, besides her scornful treatment of Amalia, is the Sheran Sharms' tomb-trees.

Season 4 opened up with what seemed to be Armand bidding his father goodbye and then returning to the palace with Aurora, instead of, you know, his wife being there with him as he mourned his father like in any good marriage.

At first I attributed that to the possibility that the tomb-trees were meant to be a sacred place only the royal family had access to, but the webtoon has swiftly debunked that theory.

Because upon returning in chapter three she announced she and her father (an even bigger outsider than she is) would be waiting by Armand's tomb-tree while Amalia got her things in order. Likewise, in chapter 5, Yugo was there beside Amalia as she spent time with her late family and reflected on what to do, supporting her.

And while it could be argued Aurora simply didn't want to intrude upon her husband's grief, it should also be pointed out the second Yugo learned Amalia lost her father his first instinct was to go and be there for her, only being stopped by his mother pointing out Amalia would most likely prefer to be alone. Whereas, as I mentioned before, married couples are expected to be there for each other when one of them loses a loved one.

(Which already reflects how Yumalia is the superior royal couple, but I digress).

This all comes to show Aurora never cared about her in-laws and, therefore, even if she came to care for Armand and vice versa, what they had was never true love, they just grew fond of each other with time. And, quite frankly, someone with so little regard for the people and family she's supposed to serve just doesn't deserve to be queen, period.

Hey geekgirles ✨

Let me just say that I 100% agree with you on the fact that Aurora DOES NOT deserve the kingdom for all the reasons you stated.

What’s funny is that before The Great Wave chapter 6 was released, I believed that there was one thing that was acceptable about her.

And I now hate that idea for even thinking about it.

And that was her view on the sadidas.

Yeah, I’m not going to stand here and tell you that she actually absolutely cares for them or secretly wants to be with them rather than in her father’s kingdom. No way in hell.

She fled like a coward from the necrome war that would have completely annihilated the entire Sadida race so her level of care for the sadidas is extremely low. Lower than a bottom feeder.

Despite this, and the very accurate facts that you enumerated, I used to think that she strangely had some kind of…endearment towards her late husband’s people?

(I genuinely don’t know if I’m making any sense saying this)

What I mean by that is that she might have felt some type of pride or emotional pull to them. She never ruled anything before, much less been married to another royal. So seeing all these people praise and call for Armand, a man who she genuinely loved, made her feel pure joy at the idea of being with them.

When she and Armand walked up to the balcony to talk to the people, we can see Aurora smiling while Armand looks much less happy (due to his father’s passing).

She has a hand behind his back, supporting him through this moment.

When they walk up to the balcony, the people rejoice in their new king and we can see Aurora’s smile getting bigger at the praises. She was even going to shed a tear!

As much as I loathe this woman, I cannot ignore the fact that she does care about Armand, and due to that, loves the attention he is receiving from his people.

So to make it short, I used to think she loved the sadidas on her own accord but it turns out she used to appreciate them because she loves Armand.

That’s how I would describe her relationship with the sadidas.

Everything that relates her to them is because of Armand. That’s it.

And she keeps on loving him even after his death in the worst ways.

(spoilers for chapter 6 under the cut)

She was angry at seeing a sadida and an eliatrope get married because Armand hated eliatropes.

Aurora: “My Armand would have never permitted this!”

Aurora: “He hated the eliatropes!”

She was saying how Armand would have never accepted the eliatropes so therefore she hates the idea of them being here as well.

Aurora: “This little pest doesn’t waste any time!”

Aurora: “In only a few months, she had given some funny ideas to my subjects…”

She was referring to the sadidas as “my subjects” because she still believes she has the right to call them like that, reminiscing about the time she used to be with Armand. If she wasn’t reminiscing, then she would’ve called them “my children’s subjects” or simply “the sadidas”.

Aurora is the embodiment of a trophy wife.

She had been promised to get married to Armand.

She hates and likes what Armand hates and likes.

She doesn’t do anything besides being by Armand’s side and holding his hand every now and then.

She doesn’t speak in any political situation and just sits next to Armand most of the time.

She doesn’t fight alongside Armand and simply stands in the back waiting.

She doesn’t have a throne seat of her own. She sits in the only small space available to her in Armand’s seat.

Her only excuse for getting the throne back is her pregnancy.

She listens to her father most of the time.

She listens to her husband most of the time.

Her only accomplishment was getting married.

This pretentious blue cow has nothing special or charming about her.

The only skill she has is literally looking petty.

So yeah, based on what I gathered, it doesn’t even matter if Aurora did like the sadidas because she’s not even suited to be their ruler. I think Armand was just horny so he accepted the arranged marriage (if he couldn’t get Eva then he might as well pick another blonde lol)

But with the things she has said, I believe Aurora only likes the sadidas by default because she likes Armand. That’s it. If Armand never existed, she wouldn’t have even glanced at the Sadida Kingdom, let alone think about these people for a millisecond.

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grandeoatmilklatte · 5 months

Text

A Christmas Diamond (Garreth x F!MC) 🎄

Could it be? A fic? After two months?!

Anyways, shoutout to @cuffmeinblack for coming up with this idea for a collaborative Christmas Weasley Wednesday! 🖤 She paired a few of us writers with some incredible artists and I had the lovely honor of being paired with @bibbysbrews ❤️!! Her work will be at the end of this fic! Enjoy and Merry Crisis 🎄

A Christmas Diamond - Garreth Weasley x F!MC (1.2k words)

Summary: Garreth has a very important question to ask his girlfriend, and what better time to ask than during Christmas at the Weasley's.

Warnings: None! 100% pure fluff!

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

Garreth Weasley awoke Christmas morning to the smell of breakfast wafting through his bedroom. He turned over to find his girlfriend still in deep slumber next to him. Taking advantage of her sleeping state, he reached into his nightstand, pulling out a small, blue velvet ring box. He fiddled with the box in his hands, a nervous habit he had developed over the past few days.

Garreth planned to propose to his girlfriend tonight, after his family’s Christmas dinner. He loved her from the moment he first met her in their 5th year, and it was only a short time later that he knew he wanted to marry her. He tried to propose several times since then, but his nerves always got in the way, forcing him to delay his proposal until now - their first Christmas together since graduating Hogwarts. Although Garreth’s family had known about her for a while, this was the first time she was spending Christmas with them, having met them for the first time the night before. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. But, despite the deep love they shared for each other, Garreth was still fearful of rejection.

At Hogwarts, Garreth was known as a class clown, many describing him as a human embodiment of Peeves The Poltergeist - never taking things seriously, always cracking jokes, and causing havoc. Although Garreth thought of himself as a great boyfriend, he feared she would find him too immature to be a husband or a father. Of course, she had never given him any indication that she felt this way, but his intrusive thoughts had been getting the better of him lately.

Garreth tried to push these thoughts out of his head, turning over again to gaze at his sleeping beauty. He focused on the sound of her breathing, slow and soft, and now the only thought in his head was how much he loved her, and how he couldn’t wait to be her husband. Without thinking, Garreth brought a hand up to move some of her hair out of her face, the action causing her to stir slightly. She remained asleep, but the reaction made Garreth jump, quickly hiding the ring box in his pants pocket as he got himself dressed. Once he was dressed, he leaned over her, pressing soft kisses on her cheeks and forehead until she awoke with a giggle.

“Happy Christmas my love! Nice sweater!” She complimented as she sat up.

Garreth smiled proudly as he showed off his green wool sweater adorned with a G on the front. “Mum made it. It’s a tradition in the Weasley family for our mums to knit us monogrammed sweaters. We all have one! Now get dressed, I'm starving!”

----

The day went exactly as a typical Weasley Christmas would - after a late breakfast, the Weasleys spent time in the family room, sharing stories and playing games, until it was time for dinner, with gift exchanges immediately following. After gifts was when Garreth planned to propose, but as the amount of gifts under the Christmas tree decreased, Garreth’s anxiety levels increased. Feeling a knot in his stomach, he excused himself to the bathroom.

Garreth sank to the bathroom floor, tears flooding his eyes as he fiddled with the ring box once again. The confidence he had felt this morning was replaced with fear. Questions of “What if she says no?”, “Why am I so scared?”, and “Why is the room spinning?” flooded his mind as he worked hard to breathe normally. After what felt like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes, Garreth decided to delay the proposal once again, deciding that if she did say no, which was likely in his mind, he would rather it happen somewhere other than his home on Christmas day. Knowing he’d have to return to his family soon, lest they become concerned, Garreth stood up, placed the ring box back in his pocket and exited the bathroom.

Garreth discreetly wiped his eyes as he stood in the entryway of the family room, his eyes locking onto his lover. She looked over at him, sending him a beautiful smile. He faked a smile of his own, his heart aching that he didn’t have the courage to do it. Their eye contact was interrupted as Garreth’s mother approached her, handing her a gift box. Garreth’s girlfriend looked at his mother in surprise as she opened the box, revealing a hand-knitted red wool sweater adorned with her first initial.

“But I’m not a Weasley?” She questioned with a cracking voice. Even from a distance Garreth could see her eyes begin to pool with tears.

“You may not officially be a Weasley, but you’re still a part of this family!” Garreth’s mother replied with a smile.

Garreth’s heart fluttered as he watched the exchange. Seeing how much she adored his family and how willingly they had accepted her gave him the motivation he needed. He took a deep breath, mustering up some Gryffindor courage before walking over to her, his hand once again squeezing the ring box in his pocket.

“Sweetheart, would you mind following me outside?” Garreth prayed he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt as he held out his hand to her. She nodded allowing him to lead her outside into the Weasley garden. It was cold out, a blanket of snow coating the grass, with more snow currently falling. Garreth cast a quick spell to keep them warm as he stopped in front of a big tree. Garreth took a deep breath as he held her hand.

“My love, do you remember the day we met, that first day in potions class where I almost blew up our classroom? I’ve been in love with you ever since. You’ve always been by my side, supporting me, never once judging me or my antics. I already consider you part of my family, but…I'm hoping you’ll let me make it official.” Garreth’s body felt like it was moving on its own as he sank down to one knee. He tried not to focus on her audible gasp as the realization hit her. He reached a shaky hand into his pocket to retrieve the box, finally opening it to reveal a simple, but beautiful ring containing a single diamond with a gold band around it.

Tears streamed down her face as her eyes jumped from the ring to Garreth’s face, which was now sporting Garreth’s signature goofy smile, the one he always had whenever he was about to do or say something mischievous. The smile she had come to fall so deeply in love with.

“Darling, you have a beautiful name, but I think it would sound better with ‘Weasley’ at the end of it. Will you marry me?”

She couldn’t control her sobs as she sank down to her knees as well, pulling Garreth into a kiss, nearly making him drop the ring box in the snow.

“YES! Yes of course! I love you Garreth Weasley! I love you!” She couldn’t muster anymore words as she threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. Once the ring was on her finger and after a series of passionate kisses, Garreth led her back inside, ready to introduce the rest of the Weasley family to their newest member.

*Beautiful artwork by the beautiful artist @bibbysbrews 😘

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x mc #weasley wednesday

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ponett · 10 months

Note

I saw in your FFXVI review that you'd played Tears of the Kingdom. What were your thoughts on Zelda's role in the game and story?

it was okay. i'll put this below a read more for spoilers. this will also talk more about the stories in general, because i feel like i can't say much about zelda's storylines without doing that

generally, i think i liked the execution a little better than how botw told its story. i loved botw, but it felt like the entire story was already 99% finished by the time link woke up. i didn't feel like i was developing a relationship to those characters as the player, i felt like i was being told about things that just kind of happened around link 100 years before i took control of him - things that he barely reacts to because of how little this version of link emotes in cutscenes. zelda was pretty fun at times, but her arc is really just "she's under immense pressure from her father to live up to her destiny as the reincarnation of hylia and save everyone... and then she does it, the end"

so i preferred the execution in totk, where it felt more like link and zelda had parallel adventures occurring in the present and the ancient past. zelda sets up a lot of things for you in the past, but you also have all the stories of the sages. they're not amazing or anything, but like, those are characters that YOU, the player, met and helped as part of YOUR adventures in the previous game, and now you'll continue to work alongside them and help them save their home regions. those storylines are built upon YOUR actions as the player, making you an active participant, as opposed to being told about link's relationships with the champions. and because link is completely absent from zelda's storyline, you're on the same page as him as you piece together what zelda was up to on her own, so i found that more engaging

the actual content of zelda's storyline in totk is, like... fine. she admittedly feels like kind of a passive observer for a lot of it, a mere point of view character for us to see what rauru was doing, until she finally has the idea to become a dragon and repair the master sword. but i thought that was a cool narrative move. that sacrifice feels like more of an interesting act of agency on her part than her living up to her father's expectations in botw

of course, yes, in the end zelda has to turn back to normal. she can't stay a dragon. it's cheap, but i dunno. did we really expect anything different? to me the only part that REALLY feels like a cop out is the fact that the tens of thousands of years she spent as a dragon are written off as feeling "like a dream" to her, rather than leaning into zelda waiting so many millennia to reunite with link. embrace that drama! but, like. it's a zelda game. they were always going to give us that happy ending where link and zelda are reunited and everything's back to normal

i think the thing to me is that, like. at this point in my life, at the ripe old age of 29, i accept that the stories in most zelda games are nothing to write home about. games like link's awakening and majora's mask are the exception, not the rule. zelda games have fun worlds and characters, they have occasional moments of brilliance, but they're straightforward hero's journey stories made to support the gameplay first and foremost. and most of the 3d zelda games at this point have some sort of ass pull in the final act - shit like zant being pushed aside for you to fight ganondorf, or tetra getting whitewashed and turned into a completely different character the second they reveal she's a zelda

i go to other games when i want a really nuanced, emotional story with a bittersweet ending. i'm not waiting up for zelda writing to blow me away like that, in the same way that i'm just playing other games with female protagonists instead of waiting up for them to make a game where you play as zelda

#fanofsmbx #ask

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kit-williams · 5 months

Text

War wife

@bispecsual here you go your space wolves

I think I'm getting the hang of doing x reader (still not my favorite as I'd prefer to make OCs but hey its an exercise in just writing)

Not 100% happy with this but happy enough

Tw: Yandere behavior & Plot

"Why hello Captain Arkyn." You cooed up at the space marine Captain as he always made a beeline to you. The now dubbed 'work wife' as the space wolves under him have openly said 'Where is Captain Arkyn's wifey?'

"Hello elskling." The timber of his voice seemed to shake the air around him as his voice dipped an octave in his greeting. "How is my aspiring Captain doing." He picked you up and just easily buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could hear the deep inhale. It was hard to stop the blush that danced over your cheeks... the butterflies that fluttered in your gut... oh you were a hardened veteran of 3 battlefields you shouldn't be getting all flustered but it was an Angel of the Emperor!

You wrapped your arms around the man and you let out the sigh as his hands felt so tender on you even in his power armor. "Come now Arkyn I'm very far off from being a captain and you shouldn't be all affectionate with the kids around." She spoke and could hear him snicker.

"The kids are fine I'm certain my boys are focused on other things then what daddy is doing right now." Arkyn growled out showing those enlarged canines of his. He drank in her groan of embarrassment but he could smell what he was saying was doing to her. A heady smell... not sweet it was salty... but thick like a musk... it was distinctively yours and he was addicted to it. "I'm feeling quite thirsty elskling."

You let out a shuttering breath as you could practically hear the lapping noise. This was the second battlefield you've met Captain Arkyn on and you two had left off on a good note. Well you survived that first note and even if it had been nearly a decade since that first encounter.... Captain Arkyn treated it as no time had passed at all. "Arkyn..." is all you manage to say on a shaky exhale.

Oh but for Arkyn time had passed and it drove him mad. For the Space Wolves it was a horribly kept secret that they indulged in the finer things in life... and they didn't leave it at just mead... they enjoyed their women too. For those with mates it's always a scent that drives them to pick their next mate... a smell that all the pretty little mortals all share in common regardless of if they can give the Brother children or not. Oh yes another horribly kept Fenrisian secret as half of the serfs and a quarter of the brothers were just offspring of other space wolves.

Arkyn just thought your scent was a fluke. You were a happy little thing... a tenacious little vixen... a courageous elskling. And he had driven himself mad at the fact he let you get away. He had spent 3652 days in his bed alone without you!!!! Oh he fixed that once he found out you were there. You looked older... it hurt him that he missed three thousand days of yours... three thousand days you could have been smiling at him... having his pups... thousands of days of laughter... tears... hopes and fears... sighs of delight and sighs of being fed up with his antics. Something in him snapped when he saw you again.

You... you just kept on surviving with your little misfit band that seemed to kept swapping in and out of members. You were thankful for Arkyn being here after the last of your original friends died in your arms. And here you thought Arkyn just wanted to relive the magical moments from back in the day but you were so thankful that he was there to hold onto you. And he always had a knack of holding onto you.

"RICO!" You screamed as you watched the man turn to mist as Arkyn's massive hand wrapped around your chest as he grabbed you and ran toward the Land Speeder. "They're all dead... they're all dead!" You screamed as you shot back at the damn heretics!

Thank the God Emperor for your helmet as when Arkyn jumped into the Speeder your head all but smashed into the armored chest. "Hang on!" He howled at you as all that was keeping you from flying off of the Speeder was his arm.

His mind was racing just like the Land Speeder was as bolters exploded out of the barrels. But a part of him was howling with laughter as it couldn't have lined up better! He really had to thank his Brothers for helping him. Oh yes he was a fool for letting her go the first time but they were here to help!

"Arkyn where are we going?!" You connect to his private vox line as you realize you're not heading back to camp and are seeing more space wolves and space marines around.

"To meet up with the rest of the Vlka Fenryka and let them know what has occurred."

"Alright when do you think I'll be heading back to the guard outpost?" That seemed to be said as he patched you to the rest of the wolves with him. It went silent for a beat before they all started to laugh.

"Oh she's a funny one Captain!"

"Oh when do I go back?" One said in a mocking tone as they laughed harder at the look on your face.

"Arkyn!" You looked up at the expressionless mask unaware of the enamored look on the man's face as his hand just moves so gently over what he can without crushing you. "Arkyn what are they talking about!?"

"Oh it seems yer man is tongue tied."

"The past ten years lassie... you're all that he could talk about."

You leaned away suddenly feeling very trapped and afraid as they speak like what is about to happen is just normal. But the fact you couldn't see their faces just made this a bit more horrifying.

"Really I don't know how he could have fucked you and let you go. It's like what I did with my little wifey. I fucked her so good that she didn't even realize that I snatched her up. "

"I've got a little husband this time around..." You hear one of them start but you soon only focus on the sound of breathing coming over the vox and realize it's Arkyn's breathing and the sound of chops being licked.

"You let Rico die...." Is all you could get out.

"He was too close to you elskling." Arkyn said as if it was the most logical thing.

You would often like to say that you were a fighter. You would fight against anything until the bitter end but you just shut down as you barely listened to the Fenrisian though you had a feeling it was about you. And when you woke up next... you'd be in Arkyn's room with a pretty new collar.

#Yandere #Yandere Space Marine #space wolves #Yandere Space Wolf #Space Marine #warhammer 40k

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onecantsimply · 1 year

Note

hiiiii how are you?.

May i request an headcanon for Jack with a fem reader Who tends to be very sleepy, sometimes look always Happy,but Is actually very sad?

Ngl I'm pretty bored rn-

And yes you may-

- Jack never did mind your lack of energy. It was always how you were, even from when he first met you. You could sleep. Everywhere. Anywhere. It was a wonder to him or how you slept on the cold hard floor or roof because you wanted it to be cold from where you slept.

- In general though, while you are awake, you seem pleasantly sleepy, but happy to see him. But... that’s just regular looks when Jack has his monocle on. From what he sees without it, you’re not leading a very good color. More as if you’re always sleeping to simply pass time, and you’re smiling to keep others’ concern away from you.

- He doesn’t like it. Not one bit. In the time he’s spent with you, he’s found out the feelings he’s harbored for you, as well as the concern that has been bottling itself within himself as he looks into your colors. The same ones every day, slowly getting worse as time passes by.

- Eventually... it comes to the point where he can’t bottle it up anymore, or you simply collapse from how dead you feel within the moment, feeling no care for your reputation within public.

- If it’s the former, Jack has you held close, having you vent to him for what’s happening within your life. Why you’re always so sleepy, and why your colors are so dark. So filled with a sick emotion all the time and why you sleep to pass the time. You’re simply counting down the clock, waiting for your own time to come. And that’s something Jack won’t accept.

- He will tell you of how much your life means. And you don’t seem to get that this is what your life means to him. That Jack thinks of you as precious existence that has to be protected. So the fact that you’re not helping yourself... Jack will take it upon himself to do it for you.

- You’re overwhelmed with work? Jack will do some of it with you. How about he makes some tea while he’s at it as well? Perhaps some food you can eat? Your house looks a bit dirty. How about he helps you with it? You need a rest? No need to worry, because Jack will make sure you’re comfortably asleep, doing everything he needs to do to make sure that you’re in a better condition. Every now and then he’ll check in on you. To see the faintly brightened color, while still sad, it’s progress. Every little bit is progress, and Jack will make sure it’s turned to 100. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he couldn’t do it.

- In time, you ask him something that had made him come face to face with the feelings he held for you. Why he did everything for you.

- “Why would you help me, even despite my own condition?”

- And... Jack can’t do it anymore. He confesses his own feelings, wanting you to know everything he’s felt for you. The amusement of knowing how you can sleep literally everywhere. The increasing worry for your own state. The love he begins to feel as he gets close to you. The infatuation he has upon finally getting to take care of you, like a loved one would do to their significant other... It’s emotions he can’t completely comprehend, but emotions he knows that he won’t be able to hold back for long. So that’s why he tells everything to you. To let you know that even if you may not be liked by anyone within the world, there will always be one person that can help. Even if they’re possibly one of the worst people to be helped by, that they’ll try their best in making sure their Partner is in the best and happiest condition.

- If it comes to you collapsing from how tired you are, Jack is by your side immediately, keeping you safe and getting you to someone that could help. The relief that floods through his body upon knowing that it’s just an overwhelming amount of stress and not a disease that could kill you has him glad. But still.. he needs to push those feelings aside. He needs to take care of you.

- Now we know damn well that Jack won’t allow you to do mostly anything on your own. You need to regain your own energy. You don’t need to do any work, because Jack has already warned and threatened explained everything to your boss.You seem pretty confused on why Jack is doing all of this stuff when he’s only been your friend for a few months.

- But still, this may end up like the previous path. Jack helps you with everything, but in a much more worried manner because he doesn’t want you to collapse ever again. He doesn’t want to face the deathly worry ever again. It made his heart course with an emotion that had him thinking of you. Overthinking your condition and making him do things he never thought he would really do. Worry for another person in such a manner that he would do anything to have them in a much better state.

- So to see why you’re curious of him doing everything, he’ll confess all of his feelings for you. That he will protect and help you through every problem you’re in. Even if it means getting himself into more trouble. Even if it means he may have t murk a few people to help you, he will do it. Jack doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. So no matter the cost, he will make your life the best it could ever be.

#jack the ripper #jack the ripper x reader #jack the ripper record of ragnarok #ror jack the ripper #snv jack the ripper #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader

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writing-good-vibes · 6 months

Text

turn off the shyness

corey and mr allen go on a dirty weekend. that's it, that's the plot. this is somehow an au of my own au, because i'm not 100% sure if it canonically happens in the homewrecker universe. but it is a great opportunity to explore how they would work in a self contained situation that is, by definition, very intimate.

WARNINGS for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, smut, hotel sex, alcohol consumption, overstimulation, (very) mild exhibitionism, and a gratuitous number of sex scenes. 4k word count.

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus(if anyone else wants to be tagged in corey related things, just let me know !! or if you don't want to be tagged anymore, that's okay too, just let me know !!)

sources for dividers: [X], [X], [X]

Corey hadn't left Haddonfield very many times before. When he was a kid, vacations had been few and far between. After his dad died, it was just him and Momma, and vacations cost a lot of money that they didn’t have. It’s not like he had any other family to visit, either. Just him and Momma, and long summers spent at home watching the neighbour kids play in a sprinkler across the street from his bedroom window.

Speaking of Momma, he’d told her he was going on a weekend trip with one of his community college classes. He’d even got one of his friends from American Lit. to forge a headed email for him, as proof. She certainly wasn't happy about it, not one bit, and took every available opportunity to chastise him over it --

Momma was in a good mood, or as good a mood as Momma could be, so Corey decided he’d take his chances.

Corey sidled up next to Momma’s chair, watching her while she watched Pioneer Woman on the FoodNetwork. He stood for a moment, waiting, until he felt that sort of lull that meant it was okay to stay. Sitting down, he settles with his back against Momma’s chair, close enough to brush against the bobbly plaid of her pyjamas with his arm.

“Can I talk to you about something, Momma?” Corey asked.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I just wanted to tell you about how college is going…”

Momma scoffs, “College!”

He rambled vaguely about a few of his classes, carefully emitting any mention of friends, the one thing about his college education that Momma was interested in. Eventually he found his opportunity.

“You want to kill your mother, is that it?”

-- but Corey insisted he needed the extra credit and Momma begrudgingly – very begrudgingly – allowed it, though she still chastised him over it right up until he left the house, backpack heavy on one shoulder.

She'd be a nightmare when he got home, launching a full interrogation, demanding a blow-by-blow of his weekend, but he can cross that bridge when he comes to it. He had the whole weekend to mull over a convincing story to tell her.

But, that Friday morning, he walks down the block, out of sight from where he knew Momma was watching from the window, thinly veiled by the voiles, and waits on the corner, trying desperately not to look out of place as he scans the street, one way and then the other.

Just after 8AM, just as Corey’s starting to get restless, a sleek black Mercedes pulls up next to him on the corner.

Corey leans down to peer through the window. "Hi," he says, unintentionally breathless even as he tried to play it cool,

Mr Allen flashes him that roguish smile, "Want a ride?" He nods towards the passenger seat.

Corey lets himself smirk and jumps in; the leather seat smooth beneath him as he throws his bulging backpack into the backseat.

The drive to Chicago takes a few hours. At first they talk, like they always do, about work and school, about football and last night’s episode of Jeopardy!, and about some cookie cutter versions of their futures, where the other man is conspicuously absent. Once they run out of small talk, but before either of them felt like saying anything too personal, Corey’s focus drifts to the window and he spend the rest of the drive staring at the endless fields and dead-end towns just like Haddonfield that they pass through. He watches more intently when he notices the scenery get slowly more populated, and when the high rises start to spring up as they reached the city limits.

They’d stopped only once, at a gas station. Mr Allen pumps the gas while Corey wandered the aisles of the store, wielding a crisp $20 bill from Mr Allen’s wallet. The drinks fridge hummed low and constant beneath the tinny sound of the radio playing through the store as Corey contemplated what Mr Allen might want.

Back in the car, Corey handed Mr Allen a bottle of coke and then watched out of the window as they drove on, drinking his own bottle of milk.

When they pull up to the hotel, Corey cranes his neck to look up at the most lavish building he’d probably ever seen; classic Chicago School architecture, rising up and morphing into a corporate modernist skyscraper. Mr Allen stays here on business trips, he tells Corey. In his expensive suit, Mr Allen absolutely looked like he belonged there, while Corey stood awkwardly behind him, in his cheap sneakers and Target branded jeans. Corey knows exactly how he looks.

The receptionist checks them in and, if she does suspect something, she does a very convincing job of pretending like she doesn't. As they head up to their room in the elevator, the fear of being caught that churns in Corey's stomach mellows, turning into that ache of nervousness that he always has before his clothes come off and he can just stop thinking.

Fortunately for Corey's nerves, there’s no time wasted when they got to the room. Mr Allen closes the door behind them, already pulling off his tie, "Make yourself at home."

Corey kicks off his shoes at the door, wandering further into the room as he sheds his jacket. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a close-to-panoramic view of the city stretching out around them. Corey, wide eyed and staring, had always hated feeling small, but he thinks he could get used to it in a place like this.

When he finally turns away from the window, Corey’s rapt attention is instead caught by Mr Allen stripping off his own jacket, then his shirt.

The space between them quickly closes and, in the time it takes Corey to pull his t-shirt over his head, Mr Allen’s in front of him, warm hands on his warm, bare waist. Before Corey can ask, he's pulled in for a kiss.

Stumbling back, they find the bed and Corey gasps when his back hits the crisp, clean cotton sheets. He doesn’t have time to even pull in another breath, before Mr Allen kisses him again, his clean-shaved skin smooth against Corey’s own as he wraps Corey up against him.

When Mr Allen finally breaks away, standing to remove his belt, Corey sits up on his elbows and manages to heave his stolen breath back in.

More clothes come off – Corey wriggling out of his jeans, his briefs, his socks, all thrown to the floor and around the room with giddy, reckless abandon. There was no need to tame the mess, no need to keep undies in arm reach or find a quick excuse to leave without his flushed cheeks being noticed. Corey's glasses end up on the night stand and he blinks his wide eyes at Mr Allen through blurred vision.

Corey doesn't really need the hand in his hair to know what he's supposed to do anymore, but he wants it there anyway, twisting through his combed-flat curls, pushing him downward. Dropping to his knees next to the bed, he goes for Mr Allen’s black underwear, but the older man stops him.

Eager as always, Corey's mouth drops open when Mr Allen runs a thumb over his kissed-pink lips instead. "There we go," he says, his index and middle finger slipping inside.

Corey swirls his tongue, sucking obediently as the digits probe further, pressing towards his throat but pulling back before he gags.

Another finger and Corey feels the skin-warm metal of Mr Allen's wedding ring, plain gold and dulled from being worn every day for a decade or more; a permanent, boring fixture in his life. Corey lets his teeth graze the edge, then catches it again when he pulls his head back, watching the older man through his lashes as the ring slides over slick skin. Once it was freed, Corey rolls the band in his mouth, feeling the weight of it. It tasted like pennies and was probably worth more than all the clothes in Corey's closet combined.

Mr Allen makes a noise rather unbecoming of a man like him -- or the man Corey thinks he is -- sending a surge of bashful pride through Corey’s gut. He pinches Corey's jaw, thumb and forefinger digging into the hollow of the younger man's cheeks. Corey sticks his tongue out, the ring glinting in the centre.

With his wet fingers, Mr Allen takes the ring and contemplates the piece of jewellery. He doesn’t remember the last time he took it off. It was dripping with saliva.

"You don’t need that, do you?" Corey pouts.

For a long moment Mr Allen doesn't say anything at all, simply rolls the ring between his fingers. Then he wipes the spit off on the clean-for-now bed linens and places it on the night stand, beside Corey’s glasses. "Not with what I’m going to be doing with you."

Corey’s pout splits into a grin.

Later, Corey comes with a whine, head thrown back against the bedsheets, his ankles around Mr Allen’s ears.

"You can order room service, if you're hungry," Mr Allen says, as he comes out of the en suite wearing one of the hotel bathrobes. He tosses a damp wash cloth to Corey, still lay dazedly on his back in bed.

Corey stretches, feeling it all the way from his toes to his fingertips before he relaxes again, looking up at Mr Allen, "Really?" He sits up and wipes at the cum on his stomach and between his thighs with the cloth.

"Sure, anything you want," Mr Allen insists, pulling his laptop and a stack of papers from the brief case he’d brought with him. "I do actually have some work to do on this ‘business trip’,” he chuckles, settling in to a chair by the window and booting up the laptop. “But you can watch TV and get some food while you wait." Looking over as Corey rolls onto his stomach and over the edge of the bed to retrieve his underwear, Mr Allen winks, "Then we'll have some more fun later. Okay, baby?"

Baby? Now that was new. Corey couldn't decide if he likes it or not. Baby sounds so… domestic. Romantic. Sleazy.

Corey nods agreeably, gives a shy smile in Mr Allen's direction anyway, "Okay," before he grabs his briefs and rolls onto his back again to pull them on.

The room service menu is so long that Corey doesn't even know where to start with it. He reads through it twice before he can make a decision and picks the phone up off the nightstand, only to change his mind again at the last minute. When he finally does order, he asks Mr Allen if he wants anything, but the older man declines, "Get a couple of beers, though, Corey."

When room service arrives, Mr Allen answers the door and brings in the covered plates himself. He even lets Corey eat in bed, sat up against the headboard and watching some Western he found on the channel guide.

The movie is almost over when Mr Allen closes his laptop and stands from the table. With his half-drunk beer in hand, he wanders to the bed where Corey is still watching the TV, though his cleared plates and two empty beer bottles had been discarded on the nightstand.

Mr Allen leans forward, catches Corey by the ankle and drags him down towards the foot of the bed.

Corey gasps in surprise but allows the manhandling with a pout, rearranging himself until his legs rest either side of Mr Allen's trim hips.

"Now, you don't need these, do you?" Mr Allen tuts, his finger sliding along the waistband of Corey's underwear.

Corey shakes his head, a grin splitting his pout, and twitches under the delicate touch.

Then, more deliberate, Mr Allen hooks his thumbs beneath the elastic, tugging it down. Corey lets him, lifts his hips and pulls his legs up to his chest, watching Mr Allen's firm hands peel the briefs off him and drop them to the floor.

He should feel exposed, when Mr Allen spreads his legs again, but he doesn't. He should feel exposed, still loose and wet from earlier, but he doesn't. He should feel exposed when Mr Allen leans over him to reach for the lube, but he doesn’t. While they're chest to chest, Corey slips his hands lower, unties the hotel bathrobe. Mr Allen's length is half-hard already, and it twitches when Corey wraps his hand around it.

The TV is still on. Another movie, older this time, and Corey's eyes are fixed on the screen as he watched. Mr Allen has a beer on one hand and a firm grip on Corey’s soft hip with the other, a faint show of dominance while Corey lifts himself up on burning thighs before letting himself sink back down. Corey’s mouth hangs open, gasps escaping him now and then when he hits just the right spot.

Following the younger man's gaze, Mr Allen sees he's watching the leading man intently. Stoic. Weathered. Brooding. Handsome. Not dissimilar to the lover beneath him.

"I think you have a type, baby," Mr Allen says.

Corey turns to look at him over his shoulder. Mr Allen nods towards the screen, "Men like that."

His eyes flit to the screen and then back to Mr Allen before he ducks away bashfully. He shakes his head, then nods, then, "Just you."

Mr Allen smiles; Corey will be the death of him with flattery like that, his wet-behind-the-ears earnestness. He takes a final swig of his beer before discarding the empty bottle along with the others on the nightstand. His hands start drifting, up the line of Corey's spine to his shoulder blades and back down again, a rough thumb rubbing at the dimples on his lower back.

Going slow is getting old though, and Mr Allen tightens his hands on Corey’s hips, pushing him forward on his hands, manoeuvring him until he's face down-ass up.

Mr Allen kneels behind him, teasing, teasing, teasing, "Look at you, you can take it so well, can’t you?"

Corey nods; face pressed into the pillow, a shuddering gasp leaving him. “I can take it,” he reiterates, “I can take it, I can take it…”

The sun has long since set over the city, and the nightstand is piled with even more plates courtesy of another call to room service --

Mr Allen had let the young concierge in the room this time, rolling a stainless-steel trolley in with their food.

Corey sat up in bed, the sheets tangled scandalously low on his hips, watching as the dinner plates are offloaded onto the table.

There was a professional sort of tension as the dirty dishes from the nightstand were cleared away and replaced with the requested bottle of scotch and two crystal tumblers.

“Thanks,” Corey said, though he wasn’t looking at the concierge beside him, but rather at Mr Allen. The older man was wearing the bathrobe again, looking practically modest in contrast to Corey’s obvious nakedness. Corey shifted, letting the sheet fall a half-inch further, chewing on the inside of his plush lip.

The concierge gives him a measured look, eyebrows twitching just slightly, before leaving with the trolley. The door closed loudly behind him.

Corey reached for one of the tumblers, and catches sight of the gold wedding band beside the whiskey bottle.

-- but as both of them had been distinctly preoccupied since, neither had thought to get up and turn on a light. Instead, they're shrouded in darkness, with only the TV still playing in the background to cast a neon blue glow over their bare bodies.

Corey hasn't been able to think straight for hours, long since gone stupid with how good he felt, but over Mr Allen's shoulder he can see the blurry twinkle of lights from downtown. They look like stars.

"Please," Corey gasps, hips bucking and writing as he clings onto the older man, "please keep going, I don't wanna -- Please, I don't wanna stop yet," he almost cuts himself off with a sobbing moan but manages to get his words out, voice warbling and strained.

"Take it easy, baby," Mr Allen reassures him, stroking his damp curls away from his forehead. "That's it, good boy. It's okay, I won't stop."

Corey cries, desperate to chase the feeling even as overstimulation makes his legs shake, his cock aching even though he's already cum too many times.

"Fuck, if I could keep you like this forever I would," Mr Allen grunts above him. "Wanting it so bad you just cry and cry and cry."

Corey's like a live wire, buzzing with the electric pleasure of orgasm and it's too much, too much, too much --

As he comes down again, twenty minutes and another orgasm later, he’s twitching and sore and almost satiated. Corey wonders if they should slow down -- they have all weekend, after all -- but then Mr Allen's fingers are in his hair and the thought leaves him abruptly.

Cold tiles send a chill through Corey when he goes to the bathroom to freshen up before going to sleep. Most of their mess had smeared onto the bed sheets, but there was more still covering his stomach and dribbling down his thighs that he had to clean up.

And that's not all, Corey catches his reflection in the mirror over the sink. A whimper, half pained and half pleased at what he sees. Face still flushed with heat and painted with tear tracks. Lips swollen and wet. Hair damp with sweat and combed through thoroughly with fingers. Pink stains daubed onto his chest that'll darken into hickeys. The evidence of being wanted and needed and used. He almost doesn't want to wash it away, because without it, it’s to easy to think that none of this was real.

He swills his mouth, spits into the sink and scrubs his face even pinker.

Besides the rumble of traffic on the street below, all is quite when Corey turns out the bathroom light and plunges the whole suite into darkness. Mr Allen had turned the TV off while he was gone.

Feeling his way through the dark, Corey makes it to the bed and hesitates while he figures out which side to get in on. As his eyes adjust, he realises that Mr Allen is on the right-hand side, so Corey takes the left, like he knows Mrs Allen does when they're at home.

The silence as they lay there only aggravates his insecurity. So many nights lonely and crying, or flushed and yearning, or angry at the whole damn world for never cutting him a damn break.

He’s ready to roll over and just try to sleep, when he finally felt an arm reach out through the darkness. Wrapping around his waist, he let himself be pulled in. He sunk into Mr Allen's arms, cheek pressed to the older man's toned, salt-and-pepper chest.

Neither of them spoke for a while and Corey felt himself slipping away into sleep but now there was an ache in his stomach that he couldn’t ignore. This was too perfect, he thought, too domestic and it sent a wave of guilt through him. He was just playing at being a grown up. He was being a stupid, selfish homewrecker. He was --

"You're a good boy, Corey." Roger's hand was in his hair, twisting his curls between his lithe fingers. More tender than before, not guiding him this time but simply an absentminded gesture of... something. Something that Corey knew he shouldn't be thinking about. "I hope you get to college next fall."

"I hope so too," Corey mumbles. "I wanna get far away from Haddonfield... far away from Momma."

"You don't get on with her, do you?" Roger hums

Corey squeezes his eyes more tightly closed at the familiar sting of tears. "You don't know what she's like. She’s so… I dunno know how much longer I can last."

Roger’s wandering hand leaves Corey’s hair, instead stroking gently at his furrowed brow.

"And Momma’s gonna kill me if she finds out about --,” Corey cuts himself off, half because he’s fighting against the lump building in his throat, and half because he’s never – they’ve never – dared to call them “us”. For both their sakes, there was no “us”.

But Roger understands. “Oh, baby…” His voice is soft and deep as he shushes Corey.

“She won’t find out. No one will,” Roger promised. “It’s our secret, right?”

Corey’s stomach aches again, “I like being your secret.” His tears are starting to dry on his cheeks and Corey throws his thigh over Roger's hip, rocking softly against him. The motion feels a little like being rocked to sleep.

Getting off is a faraway thought as Corey drifts away into a dream he won't remember.

In the morning they wake up to the sun bouncing into their room, reflecting brightly off the skyscraper across the street. Corey stretches, back arching off the bed and he feels how his hips ache so sweetly.

Roger stirs beside him, and Corey's eyes drop to where his erection tents the cotton sheets. On his elbows, Corey edges down the bed, dragging the sheet with him, until he’s level with the older man's cock, hand circling the base as he pressed a kiss to the tip.

Roger hums appreciatively, his hand finding its way into Corey's hair. "Someone's eager," he mumbles. "Aren’t I lucky, having your pretty mouth to wake me up.”

Corey’s always been a people pleaser. And he always swallows afterwards.

Corey smiles coyly, feeling stupidly proud of himself. He licks at his swollen lips as he crawls back up the bed, settling against Roger’s chest. Roger’s jaw is rough with a shadow of stubble, but Corey nuzzles gently against him anyway, kitten kisses pressed almost hesitantly until Corey catches Roger’s lips. Open mouthed kisses, fleeting and languid all at once, get Corey giggling, though he doesn’t pull away, letting their noses bump against each other as he keeps going back for more.

"What's so funny, hm?" Roger asks, his hands palming, squeezing, groping the flesh of Corey’s ass.

"Nothing," Corey insists, stealing another kiss. "I'm just really happy." So happy that he wishes they could stay like this forever, where he feels warm and wanted and the sunrise paints everything golden.

They shower together in the en suite, in a shower big enough for four people, let alone two. The tiles are cold and wet against Corey's chest, and he shivers every time the tip of his cock brushes the condensation.

After Roger finishes up, he goes to call room service for breakfast. Corey stays longer, letting the water cascade over him until he has to come up for breath. He sighs, low in his throat, at the heat.

The bathroom is hazy with steam by the time he get out and dries off in front of the vanity mirror. Bruises have bloomed where he’d expected, just low enough on his chest to be hidden by his t-shirt.

Roger looks Corey over when he leaves the bathroom, finally utilising the second bathrobe. “Your hair looks good like that, why don’t you keep it natural more often?”

“Oh,” Corey pauses, hand automatically going to smooth his hair down but feels only shower-damp curls. He thinks about the tin of pomade in his backpack. “Momma say’s it’s untidy.”

“You should stop listening to your momma.”

They eat together at the table, pancakes and bacon drenched in syrup, and Roger tells him about the swimming pool and how there are three different restaurants to choose from in the hotel alone. They could go for a swim later, Roger says, and then Corey can choose where they eat.

But first, they go back to bed.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x roger allen #cunningallen #is this a mess? perhaps.#did i just need it out of my hands? yes.#is jeopardy the only american game show i know of? also yes.#would i advise eating so much food and then having vigorous sex? definitely not lol.

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the-bloody-sadist · 8 months

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Hi, Sadist, I love your artworks and stories so much, as an aspiring writer. I was wondering what you thought of Fyodor's death during the last season 5 episode of bsd, because I felt that all this time he was shown to be sooo intelligent, and then he got fooled way too easily by skk's fake vamp trick (i'm dying), the plot of bsd is confusing me :') AM I alone here??

First of all, you've come to the right place. If you didn't see my other most recent ask, I'm a BSD s4-5 hater, and an Asagiri hater as a whole, really, after seeing the kind of shit he's pulled.

Second of all, let's get something straight here: FYODOR IS NOT DEAD. You can't EVER tell me that 1) a BSD character of importance has actually died for real and 2) his dead body was not even shown on screen and Dazai said "HE'S DEFINITELY DEAD" HAHAHAHA. LAUGHABLE. ATROCIOUS. He's obviously gonna come back minus one arm. Asagiri doesn't care about logic or good storytelling, anymore. It won't matter that a helicopter literally BLEW UP WITH HIM IN IT, Asagiri will be like "um akshually" and then the worst possible plot convenience explanation ever, just like EVERYTHING IN THE NEWEST SEASONS HAS BEEN SO FAR.

Like please. I'm SUCH a hater right now. I don't ever want to see more BSD content. I'm done. Wrap it up. The vampires were enough. I didn't need fucking CHUUYA PRETENDING TO BE ONE AND MAKING THE AUDIENCE JUST BELIEVE THAT FYODOR WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO THINK HE ACTUALLY WAS A VAMPIRE?? HELLO? Smart person, who??? Also tell me how he simulated the red eyes, Asagiri. Hm? How'd he pull that off?

Bullshit.

Fyodor and Dazai came off as intelligent in their first few appearances together. Fyodor's BANGER scene with Ace? I'll never get over it. I LOVED that. Was it a BIT of a stretch in a lot of areas? Yeah! BSD has always been that way. But it absolutely lost its course and any sort of grounding in reality or good storytelling when it came to S4-5. All of the "'''''''intelligent'''''''''' characters are now just plot convenience masters. It's absolutely ridiculous. We went from high school level reading to kindergarten shit.

And I never thought I could be made to HATE Dazai. But these new seasons turned up the "oo I'm so quirky" dial on his character so hard that I completely disconnected with him and Fyodor and couldn't stand whatever scenes we got with them together. The whole prison break scene was devastating, too. What EVEN.

Coming from a writer's perspective, this is just the LAZIEST plot I have ever seen in an anime. Asagiri spent NO amount of effort deciding how to make characters work to get themselves out of whatever pits they fell into. He just went "oh and then this other guy swooped in and fixed it! Easy peasy! I'll beat up Kenji again! And then I'll give him this VERY IMPORTANT rage form suddenly that was NEVER explored and NEVER mentioned until just now! For like two minutes so he can "beat" this guy in a fight and then let him go because NOBODY DIES EVER!"

I seriously can't. I knew Dazai wouldn't die but all the fan theories of how Dazai wouldn't die were better than what actually happened. It's almost amazing the amount of non-effort that went into these season arcs.

After finishing them, I now hate Gogol, Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya (more than before), Atsushi, Fukuchi, Ranpo (though I've never once had a positive thought about him) and basically everybody--except Akutagawa was okay, Sigma, Jouno, and Tetchou had potential, and Bram was very cute. They ruined everyone else so badly that it felt like OOC versions of them. Or did next to nothing with them, like Jouno and Tetchou. ESPECIALLY DAZAI. I will be malding over Dazai for FOREVER now. Why the hell did they turn him up to 100 on the most annoying parts of his personality???

In conclusion, not a single thing went right in those episodes, it was all "oh this could be go-- [GETS RUINED]" over and over again. There was a SINGLE episode that made me happy in S4 and it was that one where Gogol was introduced and he yanked on Atsushi's leg and stuff and that was IT. LMFAO.

Okay I have to cut myself off or I'll go on for hours. THANKS FOR ASKING ME ABOUT IT, IT WAS ALL BOTTLED UP IN ME.

And more importantly, thank you SO much for the compliments on my work!! I'm so happy you like my stuff, and I hope you take writing lessons from Asagiri on all the things you should NEVER do in a story if you want it to be worth anything!!!!

#BSD hate warning lmao #sadist’s answered asks #BSD is gutter trash in its current stage #and I'm ashamed to be in the fandom anymore really #dazai is lucky he's so pretty or I'd never draw him again

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potatohandsswag · 3 months

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Bad Samaritan, but it's the Sims

My interest in Bad Samaritan came back. So what do I do? Well, make sims of course! So far, I've made the main four and if I do say so myself, I think they turned out pretty decently.

(Also I do use cc, so if you want to know where it's from, and if I remember where I got it, just let me know)

Sean didn't take too long, surprisingly. Robert Sheehan is so handsome. I love his eyes. They kind of remind me of mine a little bit; same sort of color. I felt so bad for him in the movie! I think I remember shouting "yes!" at my computer screen when he hit Cale with the axe handle

Derek also didn't take too long and look how handsome he is! God, I felt so bad for him. Like yeah, him and Sean stealing is wrong, but Jesus they didn't deserve to be tormented. And Cale just murders him and his family? WTF?! Sorry, I have a lot of feelings about this.

Kerry Condon is adorable! I adored her character Octavia in HBO's Rome. I couldn't imagine being stuck in that chair for days. Katie is a true queen and she deserves to be called Iron Girl. Her beating Cale with a shovel was just so perfect. And shouting at Sean too! Our girl is no damsel that's for sure.

You all will not believe me when I tell you how long it took to make Cale. I adore David Tennant, but his face is kind of hard to recreate in the sims. Still love David tho, he's perfect. I'm not 100% happy with how Cale turned out here, but oh well. I spent hours trying to recreate him. If Cale was real, he would probably hate how I made him T.T

#bad samaritan #cale erendreich #Sean Falco #Derek Sandoval #Katie Hopgood #the sims 4 #my sims

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lesbiancolumbo · 1 year

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i do wanna talk about my mentor a little bit so

i'll keep some stuff vague cuz he's not famous or that well-known or anything but he's a very good director, has worked in film and television for forever (he's probably directed eps of a show you love) but the thing i loved most about him was how much of his own time he gave for me. like, for context, my role in my previous life was a backstage person at a notable film workshop. he was there to mentor the filmmakers, filmmakers who have like. won oscars this past weekend and top film festival prizes and stuff. they've worked with him, and he goes there specifically to work with them! i'm just a 23 year old punk with a love of film and no shame bc while all my other colleagues prefer to sit with each other during meals, i was 100% sitting with our fellows and mentors... not to network or schmooze. just to listen. i love the filmmaking process and just wanted to soak up information. one of the first nights i sit down at a random table and we talk about filmmakers we're inspired by. i obviously bring up elaine may, i'd just finished my thesis on her. my mentor turns to me, grinning. a girl as young as you knowing elaine may? and i'm like well duh. i love elaine may and john cassavetes and barbara loden, all the american independents.

we don't talk to anyone else for the rest of the night. we can't stop talking about elaine may. when i gush about peter falk's performance in mikey and nicky, my mentor goes did you know i directed him once. and because i'm a nerd i immediately connected the dots on who this guy was. and i went YOU DIRECTED [film name]? and he went WOW, YOU ACTUALLY KNOW THAT FILM? like yeah dude!

he spent so much of his free time talking to me that i felt kinda bad for the fellows lmao. but we ate together at every meal and just talked and talked and talked. his wife and mother in law are filmmakers, filmmakers i knew and loved, and he was so happy that i knew that too. that was the summer i was planning to see elaine on broadway too and was bragging about it, and the following year the minute he walked into the door of my office he went where's miss elaine may superfan? did you meet her? did you hear she won the tony?

my mentor is so kind and gracious and very nerdy about cinema lmao. we lost touch due to the pandemic and my losing my job... i had always meant to get his email but assumed i would see him at the next workshop. it's been almost four years. the last summer we spent together, he told me very seriously that i should make a film about my relationship with elaine may. he said, you're a very creative person. don't sell yourself short. make it just as much about yourself as it would be about her. think of agnes varda's the beaches of agnes. and then he took the day's schedule and wrote all this down and gave it to me. i still have it. i slept with it above my pillow for three years until i moved away from my old place.

before i wrote this post out, i went digging around in my desk drawer and in the folder where i keep my valuables sits my mentor's handwritten note.

anyways. a good mentor recognizes creativity even in the person who is just event planning the workshop for the "true" creatives. he didn't have to give me the time of day -- many of the advisors didn't! and why should they! -- but he did. and i've always cherished that.

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moonysimp · 2 years

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bright boy – mick schumacher.

summary: oneshot where y/n is sebastian's daughter and mick's best friend. and you and mick are in love with each other but still haven't said anything about it.

all fluff <3 this one is for @esserenorris

also i made stroll an asshole in this so sorry for that ig🤪

"and mick schumacher crosses the line securing p6 for haas"

you started to jump up and down, shouting for mick, but you stopped abruptly when the entire aston martin garage turned to look at you with judgy eyes.

yup it definitely was not the right thing to do nor the right place to be giving the fact that both aston martin were out of the points in this race. stroll finishing p17 and your dad finishing p13. you calmed down, trying to hide the big smile from your face as you removed your headphones and quietly made your way out of the garage, heading straight to mick's.

when you entered, you quickly said hello to a few friends from the haas team, all wearing big smiles. although you couldn't show it as much as you wanted (because your dad drove for another team) you had always loved haas. they were a relatively small crew and because of this everyone was close to each other, it felt like a family. and because you spent so much time with mick, you were familiar with most of the people who worked there, and they were always very friendly to you.

you spotted mick talking to his engineer in the pit lane and you waited until he was back to talk to him. his eyes lighted up when he saw you, he quickly opened up his arms and you ran to him hugging him by the neck. his strong arms wrapped around you tightly, he couldn't resist to pick you up. you both starting to laugh, all the happiness and the pride making a mess in your stomach.

words weren't enough to describe how happy you were for this boy. you two had been close friends for many years and you had been there for him at every step before he had joined formula 1. he was a brilliant driver and it was so amazing to see him succeed.

he let you down, releasing you from the hug. you were quick to speak as you knew he had somewhere to be and your dad was probably getting out of his car right at this moment. "amazing drive out there, micky" you said looking into his blue eyes, the most beautiful eyes you'd ever seen in your 20 years of life. "i'm incredibly proud of you"

he quickly brought his hands to his face, still processing the fact that he had scored points again. but most importantly, taking in your words. he dropped his hands to his side, his smile bigger than ever. he got lost in your beauty, in your presence. he knew you had sneaked out of the aston garage to be there for him, even though your dad had warned you not to. "it means the world to me, thank you y/n" you mean the world to me. that's what he wanted to say, but luckily he didn't get lost in the rush of this moment and let out some sort of love confession. he quickly hugged you again as he said goodbye, cursing the fact that he had to leave you to go with the press. god you drove him mad.

you said goodbye and watched him go as you stood there, smiling and giggling like an idiot until you remembered that you had to run back to the garage to see your dad.

he caught you entering the garage and raised an eyebrow, he too was leaving to go do the post-race interviews. you rapidly gave him a hug. "i was in the bathroom", you said you guilty eyes giving you away.

"yeah try to convince them about that", your dad reply with a chuckle. sebastian wasn't stupid, he knew his daughter and he was 100% sure were you had gone. these two will be the end of me. the truth was, he had no problem with your friendship with mick –as you well knew– but the aston martin team had talked to sebastian complaining about how bad it looked that their driver's daughter was the #1 haas fan. so he had asked you to stay low and not be so openly enthusiastic about your love for mick for a bit, until the team had calmed. but of course you hadn't listened. you and mick hadn't left each other's side for years, this time would not be any different. he couldn't resist the little smile that formed on his lips. you two shared a confidential look and he exited the garage.

you spotted stroll talking to one of the engineers and you two exchanged glances. you decided you needed to do something to clean up the little mess you did today so you approached him with a fake smile that you were hoping would look honest enough. "a shame the car is still not 100% performing. i hope we do better next week"

"thanks beautiful, yeah i hope so too", he winked at you. "i also hope schumacher doesn't get in the way again. he was driving like a mad man and the car was definitely not the same after our inconvenience in the track at the start of the race", he said and then left. god you couldn't stand that guy. mick was just doing his job and stroll was actually the one who didn't give him enough space. but you knew very well lance would never admit that he had made a mistake.

you went to the press area to see the drivers, hoping to see mick, already missing him and wanting to talk to him again. butterflies made their way into your stomach when you found him a few meters away from you, laughing at the interviewer. he was glowing today. well, he was always glowing, but today he was as bright as the sun.

"the last few races have ignited something in him", you heard gina's voice and you turned to your side, not really knowing when she had arrived. you had been to busy staring at her brother. "he's getting his confidence back."

"he is", you said with a smile. "and i know having you and cori here with him in the last two races means everything to him." family was the most important thing in the world for mick. that's one of the many things you loved about him.

"i'm sure you being here is also important to him", gina said looking at you. she–as well as pretty much everyone– could see how much you two loved each other and was rooting for you to confess your feelings. she couldn't believe how it hadn't happened yet, but she also knew that mick was a perfectionist and he was probably waiting for the perfect moment. but c'mon now these two have been breathing for each other for so long it's about time they finally get together. "you're very special to him you know."

what you didn't know was how it was possible to feel so much love for a person. you had been in love with mick schumacher ever since you made fun of his bad taste in haircuts back when you were younger. he was your best friend, your person, the one you told everything and the one who always was there for you no matter what. but the truth was that you didn't fully know if he felt the same way. you two had had years knowing each other and although he had never expressed any romantic feelings towards any other person, he also had never expressed he was in love with you either. and so that little doubt always made you think twice about telling him about your feelings. because if you were wrong and he was in fact not in love with you and the whole friendship broke, you would never ever recover. "yeah and he is special for me as well" so very special.

you came back back to the garage after agreeing with mick to meet here after the usual team meeting that happened after every race. you were sat and you were checking your phone when you heard footsteps. you looked up expecting to see mick. but it was not him.

it was stroll.

"hey i was expecting to see you here", he said without his normal cocky smile. you said hey back, weirded out by the fact that he for some reason wanted to see you.

"father told me you had a little love display in the haas garage. again", he said as he took a few steps closer to you. you leaned back, realizing that if he came any closer he would have you trapped against the wall. you were not afraid of lance, but you also didn't want to put on a show because at the end of the day he was the boss' son, and he was in charge.

"i quickly said congrats to mick. i will try to do it privately next time. so your father doesn't get upset again", you said practically spiting the words. it was so stupid that you were doing this, but you knew your father would appreciate you not getting into a fight. you were a vettel after all, and he knew you didn't like to take shit from anybody.

"he would like that, yes", he said getting a bit more closer to you, making your blood boil. "i would like that too"

who did he think he was cornering you like an animal? "and i would like for you to take a few steps back" you said looking at his eyes, refusing to show him any sort of fear, knowing all he wanted to do was intimidate you for the solely purpose to prove that he was able to do it.

"yeah back off mate", said that voice you were so used to. lance slowly turned his head to look at mick, still staying in the same place. you looked at mick too, his jaw clenched. great. if these two get to it my dad will kill me.

"look who it is!", said stroll, that infamous smile returning to his lips. "the mad man of the track."

"i don't see you taking the few steps back", mick said signaling with his head for lance to back off.

"it's getting late. let's go mick", you said trying to shift the focus of the conversation you stood up pushing lance a bit and grabbed your bag. mick came closer to the two of you and put his hand on your lower back. as you two starting walking away from stroll, he suddenly grabbed your wrist.

"i'm not finished talking to you", lance said, pulling you away from mick's side.

mick quickly turned, cheeks red as he was very angry. he put a finger on lance's chest, looking him straight in the eyes. "don't", he said.

lance slowly looked at the finger mick had pointing at him, and he threw it aside. "i just want to talk to her."

"let her go", mick said, losing the remaining patience he had left. mick was not a violent person, but he couldn't stand stoll touching you. specially after he knew that dickhead wanted to fuck you, like he had heard him say a while back.

"we'll talk later, lance. we have somewhere to go", you said and stroll dropped his grip on your wrist. without wasting a second you grabbed mick's hand and left the aston martin garage. you two walked quietly in silence, then realizing you were holding hands. you were about to let mick's hand go but then he gently squeezed it and his grip tightened.

you got so lost for a second in the feeling of his palm against yours, that you forgot about the whole incident that had just happened.

"i was so close to punch him i can't believe it", mick said looking at you. you let out a nervous laugh, and also did he.

"as much as i would have liked it, imagine the mess that could make", you said. you two finally reached mick's car, you dropped his hand and got inside.

"i know but if he dares to put a hand on you again i'll seriously punch him", mick said completely sure about it.

"no punching, rocky. it'll be okay. he was just being a bitch because of the whole i-can't-look-like-a-haas-fan situation"

"ugh. i can't wait for sebastian to switch team next year."

"yeah tell me about it."

a week passed. and there was a lot on mick's mind. but there was one that he couldn't escape from. you.

the whole incident with stroll had left mick thinking about how much he disliked stroll, but most importantly about how much he disliked the idea of a guy who liked you being near you. mick wanted the perfect occasion to confess his feelings for you. feelings he couldn't hide anymore. he was utterly mesmerized by you, and he'd be damned if he waited too long and he lost his chance with you. he'd do it soon. he was done being scared of losing his friendship with you. he needed to tell you everything.

it was the austrian gp and haas was looking stronger than ever. after magnificent qualifying yesterday, mick would be starting from p6. the race was about to begin and you were praying to every God out there that it would be a good and safe race. after 57 laps hamilton and verstappen crashed ending in a dnf for both mercedes and red bull, moving leclerc to first place, norris to second and sainz to third, mick behind him in p4. if this continued like this, this would be the best result for mick in his formula 1 career and you wanted to throw up from all the excitement. there were 9 laps to go when suddenly sainz's car started to go slower and slower until it was confirmed that he would have retire the car due to an engine failure.

you almost lost your mind as you sprinted out of the aston martin garage without a shadow of a doubt. as soon as you entered the haas garage they gave you a pair of headphones to listen to the race. you went to gina and cori and the three of you held hands as you watched the race with your heart feeling like it would jump out of your chest. mick passed the chequered flag as the three of you hugged, sharing tears, screams and joy. you went to talk to mick on the radio, waiting for güenther to congratulate mick on that p3.

"P3 MICK ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC! THIS IS THE BEST DAY WE COULD'VE HAD WE ARE VERY PROUD OF YOU. ENJOY IT" , güenther said, tears in his eyes. you took a moment to look around at the whole garage with tears in their eyes and the biggest smiles. the love everyone had for your best friend never failed to amaze you. you would certainly remember this day forever. you turned to hear what gina was saying to mick when you caught your name.

"is y/n there? oh my god tell her this one's for her as well", mick said, you thought you might die as you heard the words. gina signaled you to speak to him and you did it.

"i'm here micky. i couldn't be prouder. enjoy it. you deserve this so so much." you couldn't believe this was happening and it was unbelievable that you could even muster words. tears were falling down your cheeks.

"das ist für gina, mama, papa und für dich" (this is for gina, mom, dad and for you) "P3 BABY LET'S FUCKING GO!"

all the team went to celebrate with him, as you waited all three cars to get to their positions. he got out of the car, standing on it he threw a kiss at the sky. he got off the car and ran to his team, hugging them all. the happiness so visible in him that you wanted to start crying again. and then it all happened at once.

you locked eyes with him, and he removed his helmet looking at you like you were the most important thing in the world right now. you were a bit behind the little fence that separated the team from him, but everyone seemed to watch the two of you getting lost in each other's sight and it was like everyone took a step back, leaving you a little path to walk to him. you ran to him and as you got closer he cupped your face with both of his gloved hands and joined your lips together, your hands going to the back of his neck. the kiss was like a hurricane, like everything in the world was spinning but you two held the other steady. it was passionate, it was a kiss that you two craved and had craved for years. you two forgot about everyone for a moment, and it was only you and him and your lips on his.

the kiss ended and his gloved hands never left your face when he said "i am absolutely in love with you. and i can't believe i waited so long to finally tell you. you're my one and only and i- i just love you so much"

your heart was definitely about to get out of you chest as you gave him a quick peck on the lips and finally said the words you too had waited too long to say "i'm crazy for you, mick schumacher, more than words can explain", you said, both of you smiling. he gave you a kiss in the forehead and then left to meet the other two drivers of the podium.

as you watched him get away reality hit you. you had kissed micky. your boy. he was also crazy about you. and thousands of people had just witnessed your first kiss with who you felt was the love of you life. oh my god my dad probably watched that.

little did you know sebastian had watched it, and couldn't be happier for the two of you. firmly believing his daughter couldn't be in better hands than mick. his talented, gentle and sweet boy. he would risk it all of the two of you and he couldn't erase the smile off his face.

most drivers approached mick to congratulate him. making you even prouder to see how everyone loved and appreciated him. the podium was very emotional, you shared tears again with pretty much everyone, and mick waved at you from up there, spraying champagne all over the crew. god he looked like a dream up there all wet in champagne, the biggest smile on his face.

"finally mate!", charles patted mick on the back as they were exiting the podium.

"yeah i feel like i'm dreaming", mick said. and he meant it. not only the podium finish clouding his mind but also the kiss you two had shared, replaying in his head over and over again. they said goodbye and as he was leaving for the haas trailer sebastian approached him. oh god. mick had a lovely relationship with the four time world champion, they had shared beautiful moments together but then it hit him that it hadn't been exactly perfect to kiss his daughter like that in front of so many people. mick opened his mouth to start speaking but he didn't have a chance as sebastian embraced him in a big hug, tears forming in vettel's eyes.

"i'm so incredibly proud of you, my boy. just like i know he is as well", seb said with a big smile on his face. "the first podium of many! let's just hope you don't kiss the face off my daughter every time you get one", he raised his eyebrows. mick's cheeks heated as he heard the words.

"yeah about that... i know it was not ideal to put on a love display like that but i couldn't help it, seb. i love her. i truly do. i've loved her for years. and i swear i will do everything in my power to keep her safe and give her all the love and respect she deserves." he said meaning every word.

"i couldn't trust anyone else more to be with y/n, you're a great young man mick. everyone in the family appreciates you deeply."

"it means a lot to me, seb." mick's respect for the man in front of him was indescribable, and he held his words close to his heart.

you were resting on the side of mick's car waiting for him. he agreed to see you there. you saw him walking towards you, you smiled at him, thinking of how breathtaking he was.

"hey you", he said when he finally got to the car.

"hello mr p3", you joked.

"let's get out of here fast because i promised i wouldn't let more people see us kissing today", mick said looking at your lips. you threw your head back laughing and got into the passenger seat. you two drove off the paddock, mick intertwined your hands and rubbed his thumb on your hand, feeding the butterflies in your stomach.

you and mick decided to go to a coffee shop you liked, it had a beautiful view of austria and you ordered a couple coffees. it was a small place, kind of hidden away so that was what you liked the most. it felt sort of private.

mick held your hand that was resting on the table and you looked at his beautiful blue eyes. "so how long have you been crazy about me?", mick wiggled his eyebrows and laughed.

"yeah how long have you been absolutely in love with me?", you asked him, playing the same card.

"i guess it's safe to say for as long as i've known you. you know, i think i always knew you were the one for me", he said shyly. you couldn't love him more, your heart was doing pirouettes and you felt like you could faint.

"i truly can't believe it took us that long to finally speak about this", you said. "i have to admit there was a part of me that was scared the love was not mutual."

"then you must be dumb because i honestly think i proved that i was head over heels for you on a daily basis", he shaking his head.

"oh i am the dumb one? are you sure about that? i've had a crush on you for as long as i can remember you idiot", you laughed. "i think at this point everyone knew we were in love with each other except for us."

"yeah gina pretty much confirmed that like an hour ago", mick confessed.

you drank your coffee and discussed everything about the day you both had. one that would forever remember. you came back to the hotel you were both staying in, waiting to get ready to go out later in the night to celebrate the podium with the fellow drivers. mick accompanied you to your room. you opened the door and let him in. as soon as you closed the door mick couldn't resist anymore so he grabbed your chin and gave you what it first started as a sweet kiss, you both getting familiar with your lips. but then mick's hands gripped your waist and he deepened the kiss, his tongue finding yours. your hands went to his hair. he pushed you against the wall. mick was hungry for the taste of you, and he knew just how much he had desired to have you in his arms like this, with his mouth against yours. you broke the kiss with a smile you couldn't avoid.

"i love this. i love you. but we should stop here because we need to start getting ready for the party." you said, sure that if this continued like this it would end in the two of you on the bed. with no clothes on.

"right. i should get going", mick said with a grin, fixing his hair and his shirt. he reached for the door and opened it but as he turned to say goodbye to you, you couldn't resist his red lips so you pushed the door closed and grabbed his face in your hands, joining your lips once again. fuck it. you thought. the party can wait.

#f1imagines #f1 #fanfic #formula1driver #oneshot #fluff #mick schumacher #mick schumacher fic

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coffincanary · 11 months

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hey happy ww to you too! very broad question but what are your (fave) dark!samdean headcanons? how dark is up to you<3

Happy WW, and thank you for the ask!! Broad questions are always fun, because there's a lot to do with them :D (Also, sorry for the length but dark struff gets me going). But uh, this got incredibly dark and messed up actually, so buyer beware

My current fave is that Sam enjoys hurting people a little too much, and Dean really, really likes being hurt.

CW for violence, gore/guro, very very extreme sadomasochism, non-con, some mentions of John/Dean

I think Sam probably liked hurting others when he was younger. Not really because he doesn't have empathy, he absolutely does and he feels quite acutely. At the same time, when he beat up a bully or got to kill a monster, it felt better than it should have. And because he has that empathy, he feels deeply guilty and disgusted at himself for it. Which is one of the reasons he's so reluctant to get into hunting again. It's been a while since I watched S1 but I remember thinking that Sam doesn't really kill/hurt a lot of monsters in the early episodes, so I will run with that and say it might be due to Sam being afraid of what he's gonna feel once he does.

But once he gets into hunting, all of those urges just come back stronger than ever. Some part of Sam loves hunting, and as a result, the rest of him hates it. But, he can't really stop, it's like an addiction. It's so intense for him to watch a monster breathe their last breath with his knife in their throat, or when he gets to chase down someone who's running away, afraid for their life. With Dean there, it's easy to keep in check however. There's an entire episode (2x3"Bloodlust") that's a about Dean enjoying hunting a little too much, and I feel like seeing Dean do something that seems morally wrong helps Sam to ground himself and stay away from hunting to just satiate his sadistic and murderous urges.

Dean likes hurting people, but even more than that, he loves being hurt in every way possible. I'm a big fan of Dean/John, and while I don't hc John as some kind of serial-rapist, I absolutely do think that something happened one night while John was drunk that kind of changed Dean.

Dean doesn't really value himself or his body, but I think one of the main reasons he's so willing to put himself in danger is also to satiate some kind of deep urge inside of him, awakened both by the feeling that he doesn't matter and that one night with John. The pain feels good to him, and he seeks it out almost compulsively. Dean does not want to be in control, so he seeks out scenarios where he isn't. I think that both shows during his hunts but also in his sex life. I think Dean would purposefully put himself into situations where he might be drugged and/or taken advantage off, just because part of him craves that sense of helplessness, return to it in some way to understand it, and because it absolutely arouses him.

Hell, in a way, was absolutely horrible and traumatizing and yet so utterly amazing. Dean got messed up in ways he can't even describe and part of him absolutely loved it. Things that wouldn't be possible to do to an alive human were so easily done in hell. And Dean had no control in any of it. Maybe his first time torturing someone was not because he wanted to hurt others, but because he was promised that he'd be on the rack again after.

Now, when it comes up between Sam and Dean, it gets messy. I feel like the first time it'd come up is Souless!Sam. Sam doesn't really have any inhibitions in that state, meaning that he spent an entire year hunting and hurting and killing without the moral inhibitions usually keeping him from exploring what that meant. Now, he used an entire year finding out what he liked.

And, as a result, he'd 100% do the worst possible things to Dean, if given the chance. Dean being turned into a vampire would be the best chance for Sam to try out what he wants on his beloved brother. Dean regenerates, so Sam goes absolutely crazy on him. He stabs, shoots, guts, cuts and hurts Dean in every possible way. By the end, both of them are hard, and Sam fucks Dean with his hands pushed into his brother's guts.

Their whole relationship in S6 would be pretty fucked up, even after Dean was cured. Sam can't really torture his brother the same way he did the first time, but he keeps doing what he can. Putting Dean into incredibly dangerous situations, fucking Dean when he's hurt and close to dying, but making sure to never actually letting him die. Having sex with Dean whereever he wants, no matter who can hear. It's kind of like the floodgates opened and years of suppressed feelings are now needing an out. Dean tries to protest, he really does, but Sam never really cares for it, and what can Dean do? He couldn't fight off John, either.

I think the memories of that time between Soulless!Sam and Dean would be the ones death locks up and also part of the ones that Cas essentially takes up, meaning that Sam, in the end, remembers nothing about what he did to his brother. He is back to his old, ashamed but controlled self. And Dean is left missing the other him, wondering whether that Sam is still there, somewhere, hidden. But, I don't think it would ever come up again, it's just another quiet burden Dean carries. The memories of it now used to push himself over the edge below his sheets.

#I don't know what this is #but it is something???#wincest wednesday #wincest #sam x dean #samdean #Supernatural

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