#anyway it's just another thing on the incredibly long list of things i have building in my mind of | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingdekarios · 9 months

Text

look upon me.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 7,381 content: Jonathan Ohnn / The Spot x f!reader, pre and post-incident Jonathan / Spot, reader is described as being shorter than the Spot but everyone is, established relationship, fluff, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [hair pulling, biting, scratching, orgasm control], hurt/comfort, brief obsessive/possessive behavior, this was not edited because I'm lazy

of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on Jonathan's mind like a bad conscience.

"Stop looking at me like that."

You hadn't changed your gaze to look at him, still locked-in on the meticulously organized papers in front of you as you scanned for the patterns and knowledge you needed. From across the table he was slumped forward, his chin resting on his hands as he did exactly that - look at you. It was so often that he needed to do little more than that to pass the time.

"Like what, baby?"

You couldn't help but smile at the false innocence in his voice. He knew what he was doing, he didn't care.

"Like you're just waiting for me to stop," you replied, eyes still locked on the scratches of ink beneath you. "I'm doing important stuff here."

"I'm trying to do important stuff to you."

The kind of embarrassing laugh that was accompanied by a snort left you, your head shaking slightly as you continued your steadfast refusal not to look at him, unwilling to have your concentration broken completely.

"Jonny, seriously," you were trying your best to sound serious and stern, but the smile on your face didn't quite match it. "I'm trying to make sure no one blows up in this deathtrap you're building at work, and your notes are nonsense."

"My notes are perfectly -"

"In the middle of this sentence you just wrote 'banana'," you pointed out, sliding the paper in question across the table and pointing to the word. "Do you know why you did that?"

"Because I needed them from the store."

You laughed again, the sound he was convinced was the most beautiful in the world, your eyes finally raising to return his gaze. When you made eye contact with him it sucked a deep breath from him - he was always struck by you, even after years of knowing you. He'd accepted long ago it would be this way until he died.

You looked annoyed, yet at the same time so profoundly in love he couldn't believe you were looking at him. You laughed again and he took your distraction as his cue to reach across the table, one of his hands laying atop yours gently.

"You're absurd," you stated, punctuating your words with a nod. Your hand flipped beneath his, threading your fingers together as your thumb brushed over his knuckles - the ones you could reach, anyway. "You either make complete sense or you don't make any at all. Black or white."

Sometimes you talked about him like another subject you wanted to figure out. If it meant you'd stay around until you did so, he was content to continue coming up with ways to puzzle you.

"But you chose me, Atom," he replied, reminding you of something that needed no reminder. Your cheeks burned under his special name for you, eyes locking on his as any annoyance left your body. He knew exactly how to melt away any negativity from you.

"Why do you call me that?" you questioned, head tilting slightly to the side in an adorable fashion that always made him love you just a bit more than he had a moment ago. So many things you did caused the reaction from him, and he was happy to continue to add to the list. "Anytime I ask you just smile. I want to know."

Something in the look in your eye and a feeling that now was when he should give you the answer you wanted had the words spilling out of his mouth. Compared to how long you'd waited it was rather unceremonious, but so many things between the two of you had always been as such. Neither of you were incredibly concerned with things being made into a big deal, and now was no different.

You already knew how much he loved you.

"Atoms make up everything," he explained, his hand squeezing yours lightly as he spoke. "You're my everything."

Your eyes softened further as you took in his words, your heart tightening just as his hand had around yours. With a smile you shook your head again, using your other hand to mark your place on the page you'd abandoned.

"How am I supposed to keep reading through this when you say things like that?"

"I could've been the next Shakespeare if I didn't love science so much."

"Did you even take theatre at any point? Or creative writing?"

"No, I took anatomy instead," that cheekiness was returning to his tone, the need heavy in his tone. You raised an eyebrow at his words, already expecting something along the lines of what would come next. "Wanna see what I learned?"

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, a grin that you loved more than anything in the world spreading across his face as he leaned forward in his seat, waiting for permission to come closer, waiting for you to give in. You couldn't help it when you looked deep into his eyes, seeing how badly he needed you…you had to give him something.

As you nodded he immediately grabbed your chair to move it closer, only for you to reach out and grab the table, clicking your tongue against your teeth.

"Well, I still have to finish reading, don't I?"

"But…"

"Aw, don't pout, Doctor," you cooed, turning your head and leaning to kiss his cheek softly. "I'm sure you can find a way to prove how hard you studied while I finish up."

Yeah, he could.

The security deposit the two of you had put on this apartment was forgotten as he yanked his chair across the wooden floor, settling it right next to yours. As he got comfortable you began your work again, the switch of your own activated - when it was time to focus, you could always be relied upon to do so.

Even when one of his large hands slid across your chest, cupping one of your breasts tenderly. The first touch from him was always cautious and respectful, waiting for you to say a single word of disagreement. You nodded, eyes briefly flickering to his before you focused back in one your task.

Thankful for the oversized v-neck sweater you'd worn today he slid a hand into the soft fabric, mentally thanking you for having removed your bra already when you got home. The soft flesh of your breast felt perfect in his hand as he massaged it tenderly before his attention quickly turned.

His thumb brushed over your nipple gently before circling the sensitive bud, his eyes still focused on your face and searching for any sort of reaction. Even when he pinched not a single sound left you, your face unchanging as you read his words.

And while he wanted to let you focus, he couldn't stand to not hear you at least moan for him.

He abandoned his hold on your breast to hike the knee length skirt you were wearing up around your waist, gently pushing your panties to the side - still somewhat waiting for you to stop him. You didn't, convinced you could outlast him in this little game the two of you were now playing, but honestly not really caring if you lost.

You almost lost completely when he leaned down, his tongue circling your nipple as his index finger circled your clit. You slipped - it was understandable - and a soft moan filled the room, your eyes momentarily falling closed as he sucked your nipple gently before looking back up into your face.

"Well finally," he dragged the final letter out as he pushed his middle finger into you, running his tongue over the same nipple again. "You're so wet already."

"I like reading your work," you confessed in a broken voice, allowing yourself a brief moment to forget your focus. You felt his mouth fall open in shock and the groan that he let out at your words.

"Oh."

He kept his mouth busy, as he often liked to do when you were alone together in various ways, but where he chose to focus his attention on proving his anatomy skills was with his hand. As he pumped his longest finger into you he stroked your walls lovingly, pushing against the spongy spot behind your clit carefully and with the perfect amount of pressure each time.

When he pushed his index finger inside you as well, with ease considering how wet you were now and with a downright pornographic sound he couldn't help but moan as he suckled on your breast.

You were trying to focus still - a remarkable feat, mind you, considering how good his fingers felt pumping into you at this speed and with this amount of care - but one of your hands came up to hold the back of his head, fingers pulling at the messy strands of his hair.

"Jonny…"

Your moan immediately had his attention, his mouth abandoning you so he could flash you a cheeky grin, his cheeks deep red in color and pupils blown wide as he took in your face again.

"Oh, now you want attention?"

You blew a deep breath out of your nose, giving his hair a gentle tug as you met a pump of his fingers with a grind of your hips.

"I only have one more page to make sense of…"

"But…"

"You can wait five minutes…"

"I can't," he whined, his voice ridiculous in this tone but earnest - he really couldn't wait for you much longer before he got excessively needy, but you loved pushing him to the edge sometimes. "I swear to…whatever the hell scientists swear to I can't, my tongue needs to be in you now or I swear…"

You pushed his head upward to claim his lips in a heavy kiss, a heavy groan from him falling against your mouth as you licked across his bottom lip before whispering lightly.

"If you're a good boy and let me finish I'll let you cum in me tonight."

If he wasn't so excited about the promise you'd made he would have been embarrassed by the high pitched moan that he allowed to rip through his chest, instead he could only sit spellbound as you sank your teeth into his bottom lip lightly, pulling back slightly before pulling away entirely. You licked your lips slowly, eyes holding his gaze for a moment before you continued.

"But only if you let me finish, Jonny," you warned, turning your attention back to the documents on the table and releasing your hold on his hair. "D'you think you can manage that?"

"Yes," he promised with a huff, rolling his eyes at the fact he had to wait…he understood your fears about his job but at the moment would insist there were other things that deserved attention. He tentatively pumped his fingers back into you, not even risking a glance at your face now. "But…to clarify, I still want my head between your thighs first."

"Jonny," you warned again, flashing him one last serious look with your eyes, though a light smile played on your lips. He removed his fingers from you with another huff, lifting his hand to wrap his lips around them with an appreciative groan.

Aware of your attention on him again and your mouth falling open he grinned as he released his fingers with a pop, shrugging his shoulders unceremoniously.

"Sorry," it was the fakest use of the word he'd ever used, you were aware of that. "Just speaking my truth."

But he was capable - hell, he had a PhD, he could be patient if he really needed to be…no matter how badly he didn't want to be. No matter how hard his dick was throbbing against the black sweatpants he had chosen to wear around the apartment.

He waited until you started putting the papers back in a neat stack, instead choosing to stand quickly, grabbing you by the waist and leaning down to claim your lips in a hungry, somewhat messy kiss. Thankful you returned his kiss and chose calculated movements to encourage it into something more precise, he focused on turning the two of you until the backs of your thighs were hitting the edge of the table.

"Now," he whined out in a heavy breath. "Need you now. Please, now."

He was begging against your lips as he worked the zipper and button open on your skirt, pushing both it and your panties to the ground and kicking the fabric out of the way in hopeful anticipation. You could feel his hard cock pressed between the two of you and knew he had done the best he could in waiting, but that didn't affect how you loved to tease him still.

"You're ravenous tonight," you pointed out in what could be described as little more than a purr, nipping at his bottom lip again to pull another moan from his chest. He returned the favor before he stood straight - well, straight for him - encouraging you to lay back against the table.

"I'm about to show you how much."

He found his own seat in the chair you had been in and leaned forward as his hands slid to grasp your knees, encouraging your legs apart and baring your dripping sex to him. One of his hands trailed upward and he watched in awe as his fingers glided up and down her soaked folds, back and forth, spreading the slick he had already earned.

He continued this motion, adding in gentle rubs to your clit, as he kissed up your inner thigh, enjoying the soft feeling of your skin against his lips as you moaned at the familiar scratch of his beard.

"Jonny…please…"

"Oh, now who's needy?"

But he didn't tease like you, he wasn't able when it came to you, and it wasn't like he could wait any longer. Before you could blink again he had leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue as he ran the thick muscle through them, well intent on tasting every inch of you again like it was the first time.

"Oh, you're indescribable," he grumbled against you after he'd flicked his tongue against your clit, glowing as your fingers found their way into his hair again, holding him close. Any complaints you'd ever made about his smart mouth were always forgotten when his tongue was worshipping you.

"Feels so good, Jonny," you moaned breathlessly, pulling his hair to encourage him back to what he had been begging for.

With a deep groan he continued, alternating between sucking on your clit and running his tongue between your folds, filling the apartment with lewd sounds as he slurped at your soaked pussy, ensuring every inch received his attention. He began to fuck his tongue into you, his nose pushing against your clit as he devoured you exactly how you wanted.

And that's how he got his first reward, your walls fluttering around his tongue as you came around him, your vision clouded as your orgasm rushed through you. As you moaned his name and your shaking thighs came closer around his head he didn't stop, instead continuing to lick at your sex like he was already setting out to pull another from you.

Your whines and whimpers of overstimulation filled the room, pulling at his hair as you fought to catch your breath and wiggle. He took the silent instruction and removed his mouth from your core, instead kissing along the thigh that hadn't received any earlier. He couldn't resist in full, though, his index finger slipping through your folds and into your still quivering sex.

"So wet," he cooed, just before he sucked a purple hickey to the inside of your thigh. "My dick's gonna slip right in."

"Please," you whined again, fully aware that now the tables had turned and you were the desperate one. You knew what Jonathan fucked like on nights where he was feeling like this and you were eager to feel him stretch you again, but through your orgasm's lingering haze you weren't sure how constructed of a sentence you could muster.

"Aw, baby, that's so cute," you could hear the smile in his voice and against your skin as he continued to kiss wherever he could reach, his lips now pressing to the hips he loved to grab so much. "Beg a little more for me?"

To be clear, he was asking - not telling.

"Jonathan," you whined, releasing your hold on his hair to instead reach for his shoulders, hoping to encourage him to finish his climb back up your body. You weren't thinking clearly, it was obvious - you may have thought the two of you were in bed but you weren't, and there was no way this old wooden table would support what he was about to do to you. "Please. Oh fuck please just…please. I need you."

"What d'you need?"

Okay, so maybe he could tease a little…he so rarely felt like he had any power in this world and these moments where he had you, the most beautiful woman in the world, at his fingertips were irresistible.

"Want you to fuck me," you whined, heart bursting as he finally gave into you and reached to press his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. His finger was lazily pumping into you still, holding you on the brink of overstimulation - he truly did know exactly what to do to your body.

"You want me to fuck you?" he questioned, a falsely puzzled tone behind his voice. "Or you need me to fuck you?"

"Semantics."

"Say it."

His voice snapped slightly lower, just enough in the way it did when he was trying to communicate his seriousness - something he honestly rarely did with you. He would never yell at you, but that didn't mean he couldn't let you know the gravity behind his words in other ways. He needed you to say it - exactly it, and to accentuate his point, he removed his finger from you altogether.

"I need you to fuck me, Jonny," you begged against his lips, turning slightly to press lazy kisses to the corner of his mouth until you reached lower, kissing his neck in the spot you knew would melt away this dark streak.

He stood up immediately, shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to the floor and kicking them to join your skirt, fisting his cock and rubbing it through your folds to gather the mixture of cum and his spit that lingered between them.

"Don't tease," you whined again, eyes meeting his in a hope to convey your desperation. His other hand reached to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across the bone before it trailed to your bottom lip, repeating the gentle motion as he quietly shushed you.

He started slipping his painfully hard, leaking cock inch by inch into you, trying to take his time and savor the feeling of each push, but by the time he had sheathed his cock fully in you there was something already unmistakably unhinged about his movements, his hand that had been between your thighs grasping your hip tight.

"Fuck…fuck…" he groaned as he tried to force himself to still for a moment, instead finding he couldn't help but pull completely out and thrust back in roughly, his fingers holding you hard enough to bruise - which honestly, you hadn't been aware he was strong enough to do so until now, and this was far from the first time the two of you had fucked.

"Jonny, o-oh my…"

"Fuck," he groaned out as he continued to thrust into you desperately, his movements hard and a little sloppy as he tried to find a pace he liked. When he finally settled on one he leaned forward to kiss you again, pounding into you with your bodies pressed so close together you could hear obscene sound of his balls slapping against you. "You're so perfect. You're so so so perfect."

You kissed him until you were breathless, repeated moans covering his lips as he continued with the perfect pace to match how feral he felt for you now - quick and hard, almost bruising, desperate to coax you toward another orgasm and earn his own.

You dragged your nails down his back - you might had even drawn a couple of specks of blood with how rough you accidentally slipped into - kissing back down to his mouth as you fought for a desperate breath through moans and mewls. You made a mark of your own on his neck, a spot he would wear with pride for the days it would last on his skin.

"I want you to cum again for me," he managed out between heavy breaths, one of his hands sliding to hold the back of your head gently. "Before….before I…"

"Before you fill me up," you finished for him, your tone breathy and lascivious before you ran your tongue over the hickey you'd just given him.

He moaned - whether it was at your words or tongue didn't matter - and grabbed your hip harder, his pace faltering again into something much for harder and carnal as his mind was overtaken by the idea of spilling his hot load into you.

"Gonna…gonna fill you…" he began muttering promises through breaths and thrusts, any semblance of normal speech pattern forgotten. "So fucking full."

"Please."

"Yeah, baby," he promised, managing to fight through the primal thoughts in his mind to carry out another delicate action, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Know you love it. Go ahead and milk it out of me."

His hold on your head remained as he released your hip, slipping his hand between your bodies instead to rub your clit with purpose, fully intent on not allowing himself release until he felt you spasm around his cock.

With the loudest moan of his name he'd perhaps ever earned you threw your head back, thankful his hand was there to protect it from the hardwood as your vision turned white, the temperature in the room seemingly one-thousand degrees as you clasped your legs around his waist, holding him closer.

His thrusts continued to get sloppier, and when he felt your orgasm approaching a more manageable end, he opted to ask before finding his own release.

"Can I…can I…"

"You owe me two minutes that you interrupted…when I was trying to clean…"

"Baby, no," he begged, his head shaking as he pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead and nose, hoping his sweet affection would earn him favor. "Oh, please, no…"

"Not yet."

It was a wonder that he could continue fucking you like this with how hard he was, the discomfort and need to cum evident by his begging and whining. When you finally gave him the permission he was seeking his orgasm was immediate - thick, hot ropes of his cum filling you so much it didn't take long for the thick liquid to start leaking out around his cock.

You were both overly sensitive, but that had never stopped him before and it certainly wouldn't now as he continued to drag his half-hard cock through your painted walls, content on doing so until you were a mess, pleading with him that you'd had enough and it was too much.

He listened, removing his cock from your freshly fucked sex and sitting in the chair that waited beneath him, eyes fixated on your leaking cunt. He couldn't resist - three fingers gathered the mixture of fluids that was flowing from your pussy and he pushed it back in with little consideration toward your overstimulation.

You shot up with a gasp, sitting upright just as he removed his fingers again, wasting no time and unwilling to hear complaints as he dove back between your thighs, messily licking and slurping at your hole until he felt enough of your combined releases were on his tongue. He leaned back up, one of his hands coming to the back of your head to pull you down to meet him in a heavy kiss, passing you the thick liquid he held on his tongue and continuing to lick at your mouth as it slid down your throat.

When he broke the kiss for breath his eyes were full of so much love you thought he might break your shared "no marriage" rule and propose.

"I fucking love you," he finally breathed out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap gently to continue the shared moment of pure bliss.

"I love you, Jonny," you promised in return, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you curled against him. "In every universe."

There was no way for you to know that, and yet, it didn't sound like too much of an impossibility.

"Atom…"

His affectionate tone was matched by the loving way he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before he claimed your lips again in the softest kiss of the night, letting you climb out of his lap afterwards knowing there were things to be done after sex.

"'m ordering a pizza before we go to bed," he called after you as you grabbed your sweater from the floor, using your other hand to attempt to run your fingers through your messy hair.

"'m gonna shower," you replied, grabbing the other pile of clothes to add them to the hamper. He loved how easy things had become between the two of you in these recent years - he wouldn't give it up for all the power in the world. "Extra cheese or I'm breaking up with you."

"What kind of monster do you take me for?"

"The kinda monster that better hurry up so he can join me in the shower."

You took him by surprise by leaning behind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as your arms hugged around his neck briefly. Sometimes he didn't know how or why or for how long it would last, but he knew for now, at least, you loved him in ways writers try to convey in novels.

"I'll be so fast you'll think I teleported there."

Of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on his mind like a bad conscience. The reason for so many of what he used to hold in his heart as his best days, the very same that now incessantly repeated in his mind, an unremitting reminder of what he used to have.

When he declared he had lost everything due to the incident, he was speaking of you.

It hadn’t taken long for him to reach through to steal a look at his lost love,��and while he told himself it needed to be something that didn't become a habit that's exactly what happened. Some things never changed - he was still more than happy to do nothing more than gaze at you in silence, enjoying how you adjusted annoyances as you read, the way your nose crinkled in focus, the way you fell asleep on your desk, the way you played with the necklace he'd given you when you were nervous…

He'd almost broken his promise to himself several times now, happening across you on a bad morning and an even worse night when the emptiness in your chest at the loss of him was too much to bare, the false face you normally wore too much effort to carry on forever. You missed him, and sometimes you couldn't bring yourself to do more than sob that fact into the night, clutching the lab coat wearing teddy bear he'd gifted you to your chest.

He was positive he still had a heart, because he could feel it breaking every time.

Now was one of those times, perhaps the worst he'd seen you endure, and he'd only been watching for a minute now…at least, that's what he thought, though he wasn't keeping track of time. Your eyes were burning red and you had a framed photo of the two of you lying on the bed next to you, one of his old shirts hugging your frame in familiarity.

“Jonathan?”

The sound of his name from your lips again punched another hole somewhere in him far deeper than any other. You felt him - without words you knew he was there, his presence occupying your space in a familiar comfort that you’d come to accept was irreplaceable. So he had lost track of time…enough time for you to feel him again, the man you'd spent so many hours with in the past exactly like this.

“Jonny?”

He wanted to disappear, a war waging in his mind between the profound desire to hold you again and the need to hide what he’d become from you. Instead, he was frozen, even his mind quiet as the way his name rolled off your tongue again filled his ears sweeter than any memory. He'd promised himself that you would never have to look at what he had become, insistent that you thinking he was dead was better.

“Please, Jonny…I can feel you,” your voice broke more and more with each word, desperate to plead to him enough to persuade him. “I know…I know you’re there, somehow. Please.”

What was he supposed to do when you begged like this? You used to beg in the sweetest ways, he'd never made you beg for anything in earnest, not through tears like this…

Seeing you like this because of him made him feel more villainous and monstrous than anything else he'd done. It was anxiety inducing to watch you beg for the man he used to be, knowing he could never again give you what he once did. It made him sick - every cell felt sick, every portal poisoned and shrinking, withdrawing within himself.

But one more sob from you and a lapse in judgement from him led to a wrong step, his form stepping through a portal directly at the foot of your bed before he could take it back.

Oh, how he'd missed your bravery. You were sitting in a flash, eyes wide and puzzled but not at all afraid as you looked upon him - the new him. For the first time he had to wonder if this form blushed - he felt his cheeks heating like he would have before, but that didn't mean they looked the same. You leaned against the headboard, away from him which was exactly the opposite of the pull you felt to him.

A familiar pull - one that you'd only ever felt before with one person, with your person. Your eyes resolved in knowingness and you glanced at the photo beside you before your eyes found what was technically his face again, eyebrows pulling together as you worked through your puzzled thoughts.

At least you'd stopped crying.

"J…Jonathan?"

A breath was sucked from somewhere in him and filled the room with a heavy sigh saturated in relief - he couldn't deny how right it felt that you were speaking to him again, seated in the same room…seated in the room you'd shared.

"Remember…you used to say I was so black or white," he cleared his throat that suddenly felt far too dry, an oversized hand coming up to the back of his neck to rub nervously. This is where he used to run his fingers through his hair, you noted internally as your eyes watered again hearing his voice. "Either a genius or an idiot. Now I'm black and white all at the same time…"

His rambling was cut by your arms flying around his middle, the size different between the two of you that had always been there now even more significant in his new form. He stood frozen in his place, form rigid as you squeezed him as though you would never let him go.

"You're here."

"I…I'm here," his voice was shaking and he wanted to run, he could feel the unease spreading across his body and expanding like a sickness. But the worse he felt, the more the holes shrank…everything about him was on-edge. "But I'm not me anymore, baby. I'm…this."

"You're you," your voice was that sweet, understanding tone you'd used in college with him, before the two of you had even dated and when you were both pretending you were nothing more than best friends. He'd always said it was like a lullaby to a baby. "I felt you."

But he didn't want to hear it now, and something dark and incendiary inside him screamed that you were lying - that there was no logical scenario where you were okay with how he looked.

"Don't patronize me," his voice snapped into something dark, holes flaring out again and spreading to almost encompass him in darkness, almost like a shield. "Don't. I know what I look like. I might not have eyes but I can see. I can see that I look like…a fucking freak. An abomination."

You couldn't imagine what he was feeling. There was no lying to him, he was a reasonable, intelligent man - he knew that this form was not what anyone would describe as perfect and was certainly not what you had fallen in love with, and there was nothing you could say that would convince him otherwise.

"You look like something tragic happened to you," your voice was unfaltering, the delicate tone coaxing him into the relaxation he used to always feel with you. "But I don't care what you look like, and I never have."

"It's not like a bad haircut or weight gain, Atom," he snapped. The vulnerability he was displaying was difficult to navigate as there was truly never someone to go through what he was…there was no anecdote to help him. These days, his default setting was anger.

Anger was better than anything else.

"I'm hideous. Look at me."

"I am," you said quietly, your voice dropping to just above a whisper. You looked right in his face, unwaveringly. He longed to kiss you more than ever before. "I'm looking right at you, Jonny."

That quieted him as he lost himself in the tranquility of you - you were the only one who had ever understood him enough to walk him through the difficult emotions and that was still true, even with his sorrow and rage felt and expressed tenfold. He'd thought so before, always known so with no scientific way to prove it until now…you were made for him.

And him alone.

"My Jonny."

Before he could register the movement your hands were resting on his chest and the walls he was trying to built crumbled, the spots essentially exploding into dozens of smaller ones all across his body, avoiding where your hands rested. As you lightly stroked your fingertips there they merged again to several larger, relatively heart shaped blobs.

He hadn't felt a gentle human touch since the incident, and he'd never thought he'd feel your touch again. If it was possible, he could have died on the spot. It was obvious that he was lost for a moment, forgetting the danger he presented to you, forgetting to maintain control.

But only for a moment, the horrors ever present.

After temporarily losing himself in the haze of feeling your touch again his shaking hands flew out, grasping your waist tight as his breathing came in heavy, concentrated breaths. Instead of letting him retreat within himself you stepped closer, hands slipping as close to his shoulders as you could reach.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," you said quietly, already teaching yourself how to get used to looking up into his face and not seeing his eyes. "And here you are."

"I lost everything," the vulnerability was shining through more as he opened himself to you again, almost having to reteach himself for a moment that you were someone he could share his emotions with. "My dream job…gone. My body…which was no temple to begin with but now I'm just this…this thing. I lost…I lost you. My dream girl…my everything. I lost my everything."

He saw the pain flashing in your eyes as you listened to him - as you empathized as you always had, your heart connected to his.

"You found me again," your voice was breaking again as you spoke, desperate for him to understand that all the times you'd said you'd love him no matter what you'd meant it. "I'm right here."

You moved your arms lower to wrap around his waist, stepping closer - but he ripped himself from you the moment you were close to connecting your head to his torso, the holes once again flaring in fear.

"No!" he shouted, immediately kicking himself for shouting at you. He took a deep breath to steady himself, swallowing hard as he calmed his emotions enough to speak again without lashing out. "You can't…the spots…the holes…"

Your brow pulled together like it always had when you were feeling inquisitive and you only sought to close the distance between the two of you again, stepping forward as you took in every inch of him.

"Holes?"

"They're portals," he explained, suddenly feeling self conscious about himself in ways he hadn't experienced since his one attempt at a high school dance. "I'm still figuring out how they work…and I don't want to lose you. I could really…really lose you."

He had missed this expression on you - when you were so deep in thought it was obvious your full focus was on solving the puzzle presented to you. He'd thought of this long ago and come to the conclusion that you would want to study him - to understand him more.

He wasn't sure he was ready to be the experiment under your scrutiny. But he was certain he could never be away from you again.

"Portals to where?"

"Everywhere," just like a doctor and patient, you were asking questions, formulating a hypothesis, he was providing the data. How many times had the two of you lived this scenario? Was now really so different? He remembered how you used to look at him in amazement…your expression now was truly no different than it ever had been. "Sometimes just back through another portal. Sometimes to other dimensions to other…universes. I've gotten lost and…I'd never forgive myself if you fell through. You can't be close to me."

"You just need to learn how to control them."

"I can't," he breathed out, his words exasperated with a break in the middle to accentuate it. It was all he could manage - it was all he had to.

"You can," it wasn't a tone full of false hope, it was decisive and resolute - you believed he could, and with your belief, he would try. "It's just another thing to learn, and you're the smartest man I know."

Before he could react to your sudden movements you closed the distance between the two of you again, sticking your hand through one of the holes in his arm with a deep breath.

"Hey -!"

Almost instantly your hand reappeared through his chest and a sigh of relief ripped through him, a puzzled smile spreading across your face as you wiggled your fingers. "Intriguing," he swore he could hear a familiar purr behind your words, and he had to wonder if you were trying to distract him from the complex mix of emotions he was experiencing. "How unique."

"You…you mean how freakish," he attempted to correct, focused on the feeling of you reaching into him. "This uhm…this has to be weird."

"You've stuck fingers in me," you defended, the playful tone in your voice one of the exact things he'd missed. Then again, in truth, he'd missed everything about you, even the parts he once didn't love.

"Atom…"

You pulled your hand back through him which earned another relieved sigh from his chest, his nervous breaths returning as you wrapped your arms around his torso again, your head finding a rightful position lying against his chest.

"Just hold me. You'd never let yourself lose me."

Your faith in him was misguided and foolish, the love you felt for him clouding your mind from the horror that you held in your arms - he was convinced of it. He froze, unwilling to give into even the slightest movement that would create a domino effect, unwilling to do anything to increase the risk he posed to you.

But seconds passed without incident until he'd been allowing you to hold onto him for several minutes. You were still here, still against him, still warming him up in ways he had longed to feel again for what had already felt like an eternity. Slowly, his arms circled you, pulling you slightly closer, clutching to you like you might still disappear at any moment.

As the minutes ticked away his arms got tighter and tighter, his hands resting on your lower back like you were made of porcelain.

"You kept all of my stuff…"

His voice was still so unsure, like he felt he was intruding…like he didn't belong here, in his own home. Like he didn't deserve to be holding you again. You nuzzled into him further in response, your hands flattening against his back to hold him against you tighter.

"I could never get rid of anything that makes me think of you," you whispered, eyes closed as you soaked in the moment, feelings both familiar and new.

"I haven't…laid in a bed since…"

He trailed off and you could feel the energy around him darken - you knew anger was a secondary emotion and in this instance it followed unimaginable hurt.

"Come to bed with me," you weren't asking, it was an instruction - voice unwavering and unquestioning. You looked up into his face again, and it was just like it had always been - you looked at him like you loved him.

"But why would you…ah -"

You really didn't mind the new height, in fact him towering over you more than ever before was causing other feelings that weren't quite appropriate for this sweet lovers' reunion, but it did make standing on your tiptoes more obsolete than ever, your lips barely reaching his chest. His words were cut off, a whine taking their place when your lips connected with his skin. He melted like it was the first time you kissed him, any residual panic withdrawing further into him as he held you tighter.

You felt the shift in his energy and smiled against him as you pressed more kisses wherever you could reach, mindful when you approached a spot, lips continuing to brush against him as you spoke.

"If you get into bed with me I can kiss more of you," "You're so tall now, Jonny. Can't reach."

One thing that hadn't changed was his complete willingness to obey you, to give in to your every request, to fulfill every instruction…it continued to be true as he scrambled into the bed, nearly groaning at the familiar feeling of his pillow and the sheets you'd insisted they needed again. The seconds that passed with him alone - with him getting used to his new height in the bed he once fit comfortably in, getting used to controlling the holes (when was the last time he'd laid down?).

But when you climbed into the bed beside him, the anxieties vanished. You moved as close to him as you could, one of your hands delicately resting on his torso while the other reached to his face, stroking your thumb across his cheek delicately.

It was the kind of moment where your eyes close in serenity, and somewhere inside him he felt it. Maybe he was a fool for thinking this could last, but with the multiverse at his fingertips, he'd always reach out to you.

All of the versions of you were meant to be his.

And they would be.

masterlist. marvel masterlist.

#jonathan ohnn #the spot #jonathan ohnn x reader #the spot x reader #jonathan ohnn smut #the spot smut #across the spiderverse #spiderverse smut #spiderverse fanfiction

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 5

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 5,402

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 😘

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Over the next two weeks, Dean did whatever he could to avoid being around Y/N. He was determined that the morning at the river was simply going to be a weird one off. It was some kind of reaction to Y/N’s unfamiliar presence. Her emotions and her rose-colored outlook on the world had contaminated him somehow.

He didn’t know why, but there was something about her that always made him question his decisions, constantly rework his plans. She just brought something out in him, so he stayed the hell away from her as much as possible.

He knew she’d set up the school and begun teaching. But there again, she’d made him change his plans. The plan had been to use the sheds behind the cabin for storage; that was the whole reason for building them!

But apparently Y/N had worked her magic with Brandy and before he knew it the sensible, practical woman had him convinced to let Y/N and the kids take up one of their very limited storage spaces, just to sit around doing algebra and reading poetry - or whatever she was teaching them.

It was ridiculous.

But even though he avoided her during the day, there was no turning off his brain at night, when he closed his eyes and visions of her soft curves and the memory of her silky skin beneath his fingers plagued his thoughts. He told himself to smarten up, that he had so many more important things to be thinking about.

He decided he just needed sex; it had been too long. So one night he showed up in Risa’s tent after midnight and she opened her arms to him the way she always did.

But as he kissed her and moved his hands over her body, her gentle sighs and soft moans weren’t doing what he needed them to, and he realized he was being an asshole trying to replace one woman with another. Risa was a good soldier and she’d been a soft place for him to land too many times to just use her as a distraction.

So he got up and left, giving her a lame excuse, “I forgot I have to be up early tomorrow to…go over things with Johnston.” He tried not to notice Risa’s frown. He couldn't tell if she was mad or sad, and he didn't really want to stick around to find out.

As the days moved on, he realized it was next to impossible to completely avoid Y/N, whether day or night. Because no matter how he tried to ignore her, he saw her influence everywhere. He could sense a shift in the air, he swore people were smiling more and every once in a while, he could hear kids laughing loudly.

That was a foreign sound nowadays, and it unnerved him. And smiling seemed foolish. What was there to smile about? Being happy just invited tragedy. He knew in the old days he would have been called a pessimist. But he was simply being a realist as he'd always been. He called things as they were, and he wasn't about to let a pretty smile and a bouncy attitude change that.

One evening, about a month after Y/N arrived at the camp, Dean was headed to the storage shed to take a thorough inventory before they left the next day on a raid - one of their last before the snows came in mid November. He knew they were gonna need more propane than what they had stored in order to run the generator over the winter. The generator ran the fridge and freezer where they kept their food stored.

It could also power the electricity in the big cabin for a little while if needed. There had been nearly a week last winter that had been so piercingly cold that they’d all needed to jam themselves into the cabin and run the electric heat as much as possible. It had simply been too cold for the little camp stoves in the tents; the wood-burning stoves just couldn’t generate enough heat to combat the intense cold that seeped through the thick canvas walls.

So their generator had saved them, and it ran on propane, which meant they needed more than enough to last through another possible cold snap.

Dean had deliberately waited to start the task until it was nearly sundown since the school would be empty by then and he could avoid running into the teacher that worked there.

But as he approached the small building he could see a wavering light in the window - a lamp moving towards him. Before he could turn and leave (he wasn’t going to call it running away) Y/N stepped out into the semi-darkness and gasped as she saw him standing there.

She put the hand not holding the kerosene lamp to her chest. “Oh my lord!” She breathed out raggedly. “You scared me half to death.” But she was chuckling as she said it and walked closer to him.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh…I thought you’d be gone.” He knew he sounded slightly accusatory. “Why are you still here? Haven’t the kids been gone for hours?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I came back to put up the gift we got from Tom Richardson.” She waved him towards the building behind her. “You should come see the school.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve got…I have to -”

She cut him off with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?” She added a bright, imploring smile and Dean shook his head. Why was he even bothering to say no to her at this point? He gestured for her to lead the way into the little building and he followed at a distance.

They walked in and she set the lamp on the small table in the corner and turned it up full so that it completely lit up the tiny room. She held her arms out to the sides, showing off her little schoolroom with pride.

“What do you think?”

He shook his head. “It’s uh…pretty empty.” He said looking around.

Y/N shrugged and seemed a little deflated. “It’s a work in progress.”

Dean grunted his acknowledgement and continued his sweep of the room. On the floor against the back, Northern, wall were a couple of piles of wool blankets, and right above them was a mural of multicolored leaves stuck to the wall.

When she saw him looking at it and frowning, Y/N explained. “I got the kids to find a bunch of pretty, fallen leaves, and then we used some tree sap as glue to stick them up. I got to teach them a little bit about trees and ecosystems, and we also made something pretty to hang on the wall.”

He nodded at the blankets. “Is that where the kids sit?”

“Yeah.” She said with another shrug. “We’re a little packed in, but it keeps us warm. The blankets just take the chill out of the floor and make it a bit softer to sit on.”

Dean nodded absently and looked left, his eye catching on the only other object in the room. It was a paper map hanging on the western wall, held in place by two small nails.

Dean frowned again. “Is that a map of America?”

Y/N nodded excitedly. “Yeah, that was the gift from Tom Richardson. It was so kind of him. His son, Jonah is a sweet little guy, but I guess he’s been pretty quiet over the last year or so. He lost his mom just before he and Tom got to Chitaqua?” She said, clearly using the words as a question to see if he knew who she was talking about.

Dean nodded, a vague recollection coming to his mind of a big burly guy and a scrawny little kid. He remembered thinking the guy would be a hard worker, and the kid probably wasn’t gonna make it. He’d looked pretty sick.

Y/N continued. “Well, I guess since he started school he’s been talking more in the evenings, even asking Tom questions about The Knights of the Round Table. I’ve been sharing some of the legends with them this week. So, Tom was grateful and as a thank you, he gave us this map that he’d kept tucked away in his backpack all this time. Said it made him feel peaceful to look at it and remember better times. But he thought we could use it more.”

She smiled wistfully and gazed at the slightly ratty map.

“Why?” Dean asked with a slight jolt in his gut. He waved at the map. “It’s not like this anymore.”

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, I know, but the general shape of the country is still the same, and I can use it as half geography, half history.”

When she looked back up at him, her face was set in lines of disappointment. She waved her hand to encompass the whole hundred and fifty square feet. “You don’t like it?” She asked with a weak chuckle.

Dean shrugged. “No it's, I mean, it’s fine. You know, work in progress, like you said.”

Y/N nodded and smiled, looking a little bolstered. “Yeah, slow but sure. And you know,” her smile turned shy, “I’ve really wanted to thank you for giving up the space for the school, I know this wasn’t what the shed was earmarked for.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Brandy made sense. Can’t have the kids wandering around outside after the cold comes.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve wanted to thank you, but every time I’ve looked for you, I seem to have just missed you.”

Dean scowled defensively. “Just busy.”

Y/N nodded.

“Well look,” Dean said, backing away, “I gotta get to…stuff.” He shook his head. “I mean, we’re leaving on a raid tomorrow and I gotta prepare for it.”

“Oh, be careful.” Y/N said, biting her lip in concern.

It was far too hard for Dean to rip his eyes away from where her teeth sunk into the satiny sweep of her bottom lip. But he jerked his head up and then spun away as he answered her. “Always am.”

***

The raid was successful; in fact it was one of the most successful ones they’d ever had. They’d traveled all the way to St. Louis, hoping to find some gas stations there that hadn’t been picked clean. But they had no luck. Since going home empty-handed wasn’t an option, they went North to Springfield and hit the jackpot.

They found an old Costco on the outskirts of the city that had barely been hit. They filled and loaded up enough propane tanks to see them through the winter and then some.

They also loaded up as much food as they could, and even found some usable meds left in the pharmacy there. They grabbed clothes and kitchen things like plates and pots, utensils, also managing to find a few things that had become rare and quite precious, like eyeglasses and sunglasses. They also found spare tires and car parts, and a few simple pieces of practical furniture. They took as much as they could load into the back of two trucks and a Jeep.

Dean packed up one more big box, setting it on top of the others; it was just something he thought might come in handy. He refused to think too long about why he’d gathered together the things in the box.

They made it back to camp less than two days after they left, a record for a raid. They usually took a week or more because they had to scavenge through a bunch of different cities, and fight off masses of Croats. But this time, they didn't see any Croats at all, and they'd scored an incredible haul quickly, which meant that, barring some kind of catastrophe, they wouldn't have to go out again until the snow melted.

They pulled into the camp around noon and Dean spent a few hours helping to unload the trucks and organize where everything went. When the campers saw the piles of booty in the trucks, people actually started clapping. An air of joviality pervaded as they all worked together to put things away until the next day. At which point they'd begin accounting for it all, sharing what was needed immediately, and then safely storing away the rest.

Y/N and her students left their little schoolroom to come help as well and the kid’s eyes were wide and excited, looking at everything that had been brought back as though it was Christmas Eve.

When everything was unloaded, Dean grabbed the box he’d put aside and brought it to Y/N who’d returned to the school to drop off the two folding chairs she’d claimed for the classroom.

He knocked on the open door, grateful for the hard wood beneath his knuckles this time. Y/N turned to face him and her eyes were almost as bright and excited as the kids’.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically. “Wow, you guys sure brought home the bacon on this raid!”

Dean shook his head. “No bacon. It was fairly rancid.”

Y/N chuckled lightly and scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, wise decision to leave that behind.”

Dean nodded and set the big box on the plywood floor with a heavy thump. “This is for you. For the school.” He amended.

Y/N looked a bit dumbfounded for a moment and her eyes got even rounder before she dropped to her knees and pulled open the flaps of the box.

When she saw what was inside her gasp was deep and her hands flew to her mouth. She looked up at him in complete shock before reaching reverently into the box to take out one of the books that sat inside.

“Books.” She whispered, as she stared at the paperback in her hands. She reached into the box again and pulled out another book and then another and another until her arms were full of them.

She looked up at him, tears falling and her gaze rapturous. “Oh my god, Dean.”

Dean felt his face flush and he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just figured the classroom could use ‘em and they were just sitting there on the shelves. There’s a bunch of kids books underneath,” he said pointing inside the box. “And paper and pencils and some crayons, a few coloring books. There weren’t many of them so-”

He was interrupted as Y/N dropped the books back into the box and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. He stood stock still for a minute before he patted her back awkwardly and dropped his arms back to his side.

She pulled back and brushed away her happy tears, sniffling loudly. “Sorry. I just…” She knelt down again and picked up another book, holding it tight to her chest. She shook her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed books. It’s been years since I’ve even seen one let alone had the chance to read one.”

She reached in for one of the children’s books and laughed. “Oh my gosh, the kids are gonna be ecstatic.”

Dean shrugged, thoroughly embarrassed by Y/N’s joy and gratitude. He cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s a limited supply of paper and pencils, and I have no idea how long it will be before we find more, if we ever do, so…”

He trailed off and Y/N put the books back into the box and folded the flaps closed again. “So, we’ll be sure to write very tiny, erase a lot, and wear the pencils down to little nubs.” She said as she stood and bent to heft the box up from the floor. Dean stepped forward to grab it from her as she staggered slightly beneath its weight.

“You’ll break your back.” Dean barked at her as he reached for the box.

But she just shook her head and turned away with the box still in her arms. “N’ah I’m stronger than I look.” She said, huffing and puffing as she dropped it onto the table.

Dean shook his head. Yeah, I bet you are. He thought.

After a moment Y/N turned and walked slowly back towards him. “So, I can’t exactly buy you dinner as a thank you. But if you bring your rations over to our tent, I can cook them all up for us.”

She smiled at him, friendly and sweet, but Dean was backing away. “No, that’s not necessary.”

“I know it isn’t, but it will make me feel good to do this one small favor for you in return for this amazingness.” She said with a wave towards the box.

Dean planned to say no, had it on the tip of his tongue but when he opened his mouth what came out was, “Okay.”

So barely an hour later he found himself sitting at her table with dinner laid out in front of him. It was a sufficiently celebratory meal of salted venison from an eight point buck the camp hunters had taken down in early summer, boiled potatoes, and a can of green beans that was older than Emma.

It was the best meal Dean had eaten in a long time.

After the food was finished and the dishes were washed, Y/N made them a cup of coffee and he sat drinking it as she settled Emma into bed with a kiss. His stomach was full of decent food, the coffee smelled old but still strong, and the sound of Y/N’s soft voice as she tucked her daughter in, was incredibly soothing. He found himself relaxing into his chair in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. His muscles lost some of their rigidity and he breathed out a long sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath for too long.

After a few minutes Y/N came back to the table and sat down with her own soft exhale. She took a sip of her coffee and then looked at Dean over the rim of her tin cup. “You know, I don’t think you really understand what you’ve done here.”

Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, questioning her. She smiled and set down her cup, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Since all of this started, we’ve been on the move, Emma and I. In the beginning, when Emma was still a baby, I’d come across different groups of people and we’d travel together for a while or we’d manage to hole up somewhere for the winter and wait out the cold together. But inevitably the groups always fell away; sometimes we’d just decide to go in separate directions, but sometimes animosity or greed would take over and violence would erupt. People would fight over who was in charge and they’d fight over resources.” Y/N shook her head. “It almost always ended up a disaster.”

She shrugged. “So after a while, I just lit out on my own with Emma. It was scary as hell, of course - no back up, no partners, all on my own with a four year old. But it also meant no one stealing my stuff, or throwing me to the wolves at the first sign of trouble.”

She took another sip of coffee and Dean wondered at the shadows in her usually bright eyes. What stories in her past had created them?

Her voice was soft when she continued. “It’s been incredibly hard and there’s been,” her eyelashes fluttered and closed, “there's been a lot of bad.”

She set down her cup and sat back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers like she was scratching out the images behind her eyelids.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were soft and warm. “So, to come here, to see what you’ve accomplished in just a few years?” Her voice was full of wonder. “Dean, it’s like a miracle. I mean you’ve made it safe here, at least a hell of a lot safer than anywhere else out there - there are guards protecting us! People work together, contribute their skills and strengths for the benefit of the group as well as themselves.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything like it in a very long time. What you’ve created here is an oasis.”

Dean snorted at that. “Oasis?” He asked incredulously. Her praise and wonderment made him feel an itchy kind of awkwardness. He didn’t deserve it.

But Y/N was nodding solemnly. “Yes. It’s a safe haven in a world filled with evil. What would you call it?”

Dean took a gulp of coffee and then licked his lips, looking at her for a moment before speaking. “Y/N this is only an oasis in the sense that it’s a mirage in a desert; it’s an illusion. We’re managing to get by through lucky choices and good timing. We push through from day to day, but I’m telling you this whole place could fall apart in an instant. One long, bad, winter, or one coordinated attack from another camp or a pack of Croats, and we’re done.”

He paused to try and let that sink in before continuing. “And the survivors here work together because it’s beneficial to them. But if things get desperate again,” he looked at her pointedly, “don’t think for one second that they'll hesitate to throw you to the wolves like all the others.” He shrugged. “It’s human nature, survival of the fittest, and anyone who thinks otherwise is gonna get trampled.”

He said it as a warning, still determined to dislodge the Pollyanna ideal of good and virtuous humanity from her mind.

But Y/N just smiled and leaned across the table to squeeze his hand. “Guess we’ll see. But in the meantime, you should be proud. No matter what happens, you’ve done good.”

Dean swallowed down the rest of his coffee in one gulp and stood up, pulling his hand away from her warm touch. He was desperate to get away from the softness and understanding in her gaze. He thanked her for cooking dinner and left quickly, promising himself as he walked back to his tent that he wasn’t going to do that again.

But as with most things to do with Y/N that decision didn’t last long, and soon enough that one evening turned into a bit of a ritual. Every few days or so Dean would show up with some of his rations and Y/N would combine them with what they had, and they’d all eat together at their tiny table.

Every time he left her tent, he told himself he’d had his last meal there with Y/N and Emma. Yet within a few days, he’d be back again. He told himself it was just something to break the monotony of camp life, just something a little different from the ordinary.

But the truth was he was beginning to crave the evenings spent across from Y/N, listening to her rattle on about her students and their achievements, or else answering her seemingly endless questions about the camp and how it had come to be. He even enjoyed listening to her talk to Emma, telling her stories before she tucked her in for the night.

Once the little girl was asleep, Dean usually hightailed it out of there, because without the kid as a buffer it became much harder to ignore Y/N’s inviting lips and tempting curves.

But one night, three weeks after returning home from the raid, Y/N followed him outside as he abruptly left the tent.

“Dean.” She called after him.

The sun had set almost an hour before and the night was dark and cold; Dean returned to her side and admonished her. “It’s freezing out here, go back inside.”

Y/N just rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head at her stubbornness, and then waited silently. When she didn’t say anything right away he spread his arms wide.

“What?” He asked impatiently.

“I just…” Y/N stuttered for a moment. “I just wanted to say that I really like when you come for dinner.”

Dean clenched his jaw as she looked up at him with heat in her gaze, an invitation in her eyes, plain as day. He told himself to walk away but instead, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek.

“You should go inside.” He warned her again, even as he lowered his head towards her. “S’cold.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m very warm.” She smiled and licked her lips and it was his undoing.

He yanked her up against him and crushed her lips with his own. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, inhaling her sweet scent and hardening at the way she clutched the front of his jacket and whimpered softly. He moved his hands so that one clutched at her waist and the other one grabbed hold of the back of her head so he could keep her pressed to him tightly.

He didn't know how long he would have continued kissing her, or whether he might have taken things even further. But luckily there was a loud noise of something crashing somewhere in camp, followed by laughter.

The sound was like a bucket of cold water being poured on him and Dean ripped himself away from Y/N's mouth. They were both breathing heavily, panting really.

“Fuck.” Dean swore roughly before he turned abruptly and left. He fully admitted to himself that this time, he was definitely running away.

***

Dean barely slept and woke up the next day berating himself for the night before. For fuck’s sake he’d been making out with Y/N with her kid just on the other side of a canvas wall - kissing her in the wide open, where any other camper might have walked by. He didn’t need things to be more complicated than they were already.

As the morning wore on, he made up his mind to talk to Y/N that very afternoon. He'd just tell her straight out that what happened between them just couldn't happen again. It was only going to confuse things and make everything harder than it needed to be.

He nodded; he could do this. He was practical and he didn't hem and haw or tiptoe around things. He'd just tell her straight out how things were going to be.

He knew she'd be in the big cabin as the school day ended, so he walked over and stepped inside the door, hoping she'd be almost done for the day.

Ever since he brought her the books, she'd been reading to the kids at the end of every school day. Parents had started swinging by the school, ostensibly to meet their kids, but really, they wanted to watch their kids' faces and listen to their giggles as Y/N read the stories in funny voices and occasionally got the kids to join her in acting out silliness from the books.

But the crowd of parents and kids had gotten a bit too big for the tiny schoolroom, so on the last day of every week, Y/N had taken to reading to the kids and parents together in the big cabin. The adults usually sat on the floor behind the kids, keeping their hands busy with mending clothes or knitting, or else they stood at a table and worked on something like repairing holes in tents or making snares for the hunters. The work allowed them to justify their enjoyment of the stories.

As Dean walked inside now, Y/N was finishing up the storybook in her hand. He could see it was The Paper Bag Princess and Y/N was on the last page.

“‘Ronald’, said Elizabeth, ‘your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat.” Y/N read aloud in Elizabeth’s decisive voice.

“You look like a real prince. But you,” Y/N paused for effect, “are a bum.’”

All the kids were giggling as she read the last line.

“They didn't get married after all.”

The kids clapped and even the parents were chuckling at the way the paper bag princess had put the snooty prince in his place.

“I love that story!!” A little redheaded girl in the front gushed.

“It's my mommy's favorite story.” Emma said loudly. “Right Mommy?”

Y/N nodded. “When I was your age for sure.”

Dean pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, trying to signal Y/N so she'd hurry up and finish. But the little girl in the front demanded her full attention as she bounced up to lean against Y/N's knees where she sat in the chair.

“Cause your mommy read it to you?”

Dean was seriously considering ordering everyone out. He wanted to get this over with.

But Y/N's next words stopped him dead in his tracks.

She was shaking her head as she tucked the little girl's red hair behind her ear. “No, my mommy passed away a long time ago when I was just a baby. So she never really got to read me stories.”

Y/N kept talking, but Dean only heard a hot, pulsing, rushing sound in his ears. A million thoughts were slamming through his mind at once as he felt a cold shiver run through him.

He yelled over the sound of the people around him beginning to chatter and get ready to leave.

“How?”

Y/N looked up at his bellow, her face shocked. “What?”

Dean was aware of his surroundings only just enough to brusquely order everyone out of the cabin.

“Now!” He barked and the mood in the room shifted quickly as parents grabbed up their children and gave The Boss a wide berth as his eyes burned at Y/N like green fire.

Everyone disappeared and it was just Y/N, Dean and Emma left.

Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he took a step back from where she stood.

Y/N's face was completely confused and clearly perplexed. “Dean what-”

He cut her off. “How?” He bellowed again before swallowing and asking in a slightly quieter tone. “How did your mother die when you were a baby?”

Y/N shook her head. “Why? What are you-”

“Answer me.” Dean's voice wasn't loud, but his words were clipped and he could hear the steel behind his words, feel the cold seeping into his bones as the tumblers in his mind fell into place, opening the lock concealing the reason behind Y/N’s miraculous survival of the virus.

Y/N blinked rapidly for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It was a - a fire. Some kind of electrical short or something.”

“In your nursery.” Dean said softly.

Y/N shrugged, her face scrunched up in confusion. “I'm not sure. My dad didn't really like to talk about it.”

As he stood staring at the woman with the bloodshot eyes, a moment from so long ago, once again from that first time they'd faced the Croatoan virus, materialized in his memory.

Again his brother's face bloomed in his mind, and he heard his own voice speaking.

“I swear I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean why here, why now?”

And Sam's bewildered reply. “And why was I immune?”

Well now he knew why his brother had been immune. Because Yellow Eyes had wanted him to be, to make him a better soldier, a better, more powerful psychic to lead his demon army. And of course, he’d needed to be sure Lucifer's true vessel was strong and able enough to withstand the demon germ warfare he planned to release upon the world as a way to kickstart the apocalypse.

Dean stared at Y/N, angry beyond belief. Angry at her and what she really was, angry at himself for taking so long to figure it out and for falling for her game, and unbelievably angry at the universe for proving once again that it was laughing at him.

His voice was ice when he spoke. “What kind of psychic are you? What can you do?” He shook his head. “What have you done already?"

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@akshi8278

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@hobby27

#dean winchester x reader #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean winchester fan fic #endverse #endverse series #endverse!dean series #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff

95 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 4 months

Note

Number 19 for the prompt thing. The parents meeting because of their kids. I’m kinda imagining Korkie being like a tutor/school reading buddy for the twins or something but you can just ignore that if it doesn’t match your thoughts on it.

hello!! i thought back as much as i could, and i don't think i actually did this prompt the first time around a couple of years ago, so there's nothing to link to save for the prompt list!

i stuck with korkie as obi-wan's kid and the twins as anakin's, but made the kids the same age and then took...a few more liberties with the prompt haha

(19. parents meeting while taking their kids to class) (sort of)

(2.8k)

“Leia, baby, why do you always decide to get into fights at school when it’s my week with you?” Anakin asks the steering wheel as he buckles himself in and turns over the engine. “They’re going to start thinking I’m raising a truant. Then they’re going to start asking about your home life, then they’re going to bring in experts to ask me more questions, then Padmé’s parents are going to throw their considerable legal weight around and get my partial custody revoked and then where will we be? Is that what you want? To only see me on your birthday and Christmas?”

Anakin pauses and reconsiders. Knowing his daughter, she may very well only want to see him for birthdays and Christmases. It would mean double the presents.

Thankfully the silence of the car doesn’t offer much in the way of constructive critique.

At a red light, he puts his head down on the steering wheel for a long enough moment that the car behind him honks when the light changes to green.

“They’re going to stop letting me leave work to come get you,” Anakin mutters a few minutes later as he turns the car into the school’s parking lot. “I have a partner meeting in thirty minutes that I really can’t miss, baby. Can’t you at least schedule your schoolyard fights around my calendar?”

It’s all rather pointless, but it feels good to grumble and bitch in the time it takes him to leave his office and arrive at the school, before he has to put on his adult face and demeanor to sit through another round of We’re Worried Your Five Year Old Is Too Violent As She Seems To View The Monkey Bars As Sacrificial Zones.

“Maybe she’d like hockey,” he says under his breath as he grabs his jacket from the other seat and swings it over his suit. It’s fucking freezing already, not even December. It’s indecent, that’s what it is. Surely a place as cold as this has a peewee hockey team in need of another angry little girl.

“Thank you,” he says when a woman holds the door open for him on her way out the building.

He’s stil sort of freaked out that the elementary school his children are going to is fancy enough to have an entrance hallway with a chandelier hanging from the ceilingk, but it’s not him that’s paying for their private school education that doesn’t offer discounts for all the collective hours they’ll spend napping on the floors.

To the immediate left of the door is the receptionist’s desk—behind her, the nurse’s room. He’s quite familiar with both. Mrs. Whitsdale even waves when she sees him, which means, unfortunately, she’s just made the shortlist of people Anakin needs to make Christmas cookies for. She joins the ranks of everyone else that’s been made to deal with his son and daughter in the tumultuous year after the divorce.

“Hi, ma’am,” he says dutifully, sticking his head into the receptionist area. “Do I need to sign in or can I just go up?”

She waves him away. “I’ve already got you, sweetheart. You’re late anyway, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

“You’re a miracle amongst men,” he calls out as he turns instead to the right of the door and up the old staircase that leads to the principal’s office. This is also a route he is incredibly familiar with.

How can he be late? He practically flew here on light feet and broken speed limits. It’s enough to take his mood from bad to worse, which isn’t optimal for a meeting with the principal of the school when it’s his kid who caused the fight. Anakin’s role is to nonconfrontational, contrite to the point of groveling—because he knows his daughter won’t.

That’s already hard enough when he’s feeling normal. It’s practically impossible when he’s feeling foul.

But Padmé did always say Leia got her stubbornness and temper from Anakin.

Anakin’s always said Leia never really had a chance considering who her parents are.

After all, someone threw a hairdryer at the hotel mirror before they got divorced and it wasn’t Anakin. But he’s not stupid enough to even think that when Padmé’s around.

The big oak door at the end of the hallway on the second floor is elaborate, looks heavy, and stays closed. He knows that this is the headmaster’s office, but he’s never seen the guy around. He doesn’t even know what the guy does. What’s a headmaster of an elementary school doing every day?

It’s an elementary school.

But, again. Anakin’s not paying for all this pomp and circumstance.

He takes another right instead, down the corridor in the opposite direction to the principal’s office. The door’s left ajar, and Anakin knocks politely before entering at the call to.

A couple of things bring him up short as soon as he steps into the room. For one thing, it’s not Principal Cinoff behind the desk, but a stranger who has the remnants of a three-piece suit on, jacket hanging neatly on a coat rack in the corner of the room. His vest is a deep red that should do nothing but drain his complexion—all pasty white skin, freckled and sun-starved, paired with his reddish hair and beard. It doesn’t, which is unfair to the point of duplicity. Or–something.

The way he’s sitting at the desk, hands spread wide on the wood and shoulders back, leaves no doubt in Anakin’s mind that the stranger is in a position of power here at the school. And probably in, like. Life. He looks like the kind of guy who gets his groceries on discount even without providing a loyalty card. He also looks like the kind of guy the system bends to accommodate. As a lawyer, Anakin is offended and deeply disturbed. That’s why his stomach does two or three flips in quick succession when they make eye contact.

The stranger’s eyes are cool and focused as they run over Anakin, and he gives him a perfunctory incline of his head. At least his eyes are warmer when they fall to the kids in front of him.

And that’s the other thing that shocks him.

The amount of children in front of the desk. One pouting ginger kid off to the side, arms crossed and staring down at his light-up sneakers.

And then two very familiar heads of hair on the other side.

“Luke?” He asks before he can stop himself, surprise dripping from his tone. “What are you doing here?”

At this rate, he’s going to give his daughter a complex, he knows it.

But Luke has never been in trouble before. Sure, they’re only five, and it’s only been three months of school, but in that time, Anakin’s been called down here six times to deal with Leia-related emergencies. He’s always imagined that meanwhile, Luke was in his classroom, chewing on crayons or diligently helping the teacher pass out homework assignments.

The stand-in principal coughs slightly and rises. “Ah, Mr. Skywalker-Amidala. Thank you for being able to join us today.”

Anakin scowls automatically before schooling his face into something far more diplomatic and pleasant when his children whirl around in their seats to look at him. The last thing he needs is for his children to think they can sneer at authority figures, given that he’s one of their main authority figures.

Luke leaves his chair to hug onto his leg, pressing his small face into the fabric of his pants, presumably seeking comfort and also to wipe his face dry of tears and snot.

Anakin puts a hand on his head and strokes through his hair, darting a curious glance at Leia, who has turned around to glare forward again, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s just Skywalker, actually,” he tells the stranger. “Amidala is their mother.”

The man’s eyebrow goes up and he picks up a pen to make a note on the papers before him. An actual note. Regarding Anakin’s divorce. “Ah, apologies then,” he says. “Our contact list notes you as the father, Skywalker-Amidala, and their mother as Amidala-Organa.”

Anakin squints, trying to decide if the stranger is just trying to correct a clerical error in the school’s records or fishing for gossip. He gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Amidala is their mother, recently remarried to Organa. Organas. And she’s always been better at remembering to file paperwork than I am.”

The stranger keeps his face admirably placid. “Ah,” he says. “Well, Mr. Skywalker. Should we begin?”

“Uh,” he says. “What about the other parent?”

The stranger blinks at him, both eyebrows raised. “I’m a widower.”

“Uh,” he says. “I meant…” he gestures at the other child, the surly looking ginger kid.

“I’m afraid it will just be us, Mr. Skywalker,” the stranger says. “Please, sit.”

Anakin sits, and Luke is quick to scramble up into his lap with a very plaintative, “I didn’t really mean to.”

“So at recess today, the children were playing on the swings,” the stranger who must be the principal for the day says. “And—”

“Sorry,” Anakin interrupts. “Can I get your name please? I was expecting Principal Cinoff.”

The man pauses. “Sheri has been put on sudden maternity-leave a few months early,” he says. “For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be dual-hatting as both principal and headmaster while we continue to search for a temporary replacement.” He raises an eyebrow at Anakin. Anakin really doesn’t appreciate that. “This was in an email the school sent out to all the parents recently.”

“Yes, well,” Anakin says. “I get a lot of emails.”

The man looks unimpressed. “I encourage you to prioritize the communications from your children’s learning institute.”

Anakin bristles. What a dick. Who the fuck says learning institute?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” he asks in his best unimpressed voice.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man’s unimpressed voice is ten times more chilling than Anakin’s, which is also not fair. “Please, call me Dr. Kenobi.” Anakin scowls. “I appreciate the fact that you feel as though you can cover the extremely busy roles of both headmaster and principal of an elementary school, but I would really rather wait until the other parent gets here so we can most productively discuss the altercation, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Please, Mr. Skywalker,” Kenobi says. “Leave the litigation to the court rooms, we—”

“It’s Esquire, actually.”

Kenobi’s face grows very pinched around the mouth and eyebrows. Anakin feels a vicious thrill course through him even as his stomach flips again.

“I suppose I should have made it clearer at the beginning of this session,” Kenobi says, tone dripping in you idiot. “This is my son, Korkie.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. His immediate thought is, of course, Korkie Kenobi? And he thought Luke and Leia were too cutesy for twin names.

“Korkie is a family name,” Kenobi adds rather dryly. “My late wife’s grandfather’s.”

Anakin doubts that’s even true. He bets it’s not actually, that Kenobi just plays the dead wife card to get out of judgemental questions about his naming abilities.

But then another, worse thought occurs to Anakin. “Wait a second, you can’t be the parent and the principal!”

“I assure you, I am impartial.”

“Like hel—heck you are!” Anakin straightens in his seat and Luke lets out a grumble, clinging tightly to his front. “I demand a different authority.” “No,” Kenobi says firmly, as if the matter is at rest. This, of course, is absolutely infuriating.

“It’s unfair bias and I will not see either of my children punished in a tyrannical and self-serving institution—”

Kenobi pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Skywalker, unless you would like to have me call Mrs. Cinoff away from her pre-mature baby, I am the best option this school has. Please. Settle down.”

“Dad,” Leia says, “I don’t want to miss reading time.”

Anakin breathes out in disgust. Shitty, overpriced private school. This sort of thing would never happen at a publicly funded school.

“The fact of the matter is that Luke pushed Korkie off the swings,” Kenobi says with a stern look at both Luke and Anakin. He holds up his hand when Anakin opens his mouth. “An incident that many were witness to. And before you make an accusation, there were many witnesses who were not on the school’s payroll, Mr. Skywalker.”

Anakin closes his mouth sullenly.

“Korkie could have been very hurt, Luke,” Kenobi says, clasping his hands in front of him and looking down at Anakin’s son. “He was swinging pretty fast when you pushed him, and he could have broken his ankle in the fall.”

Luke’s bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he mumbles, turning his face back into Anakin’s sleeve. “He was being mean. I just wanted him to stop.” “I wasn’t!” Korkie cries, sitting straight in his chair for the first time since Anakin’s arrived. “I wasn’t being mean, dad!” “You said Leia’s hair looks like cinnamon buns on her head!” Luke shouts back, pushing away from Anakin’s arms to glare at the other boy.

Anakin winces. When it’s Padmé’s turn with the kids, Leia always turns up to school with elaborately braided hair, twisted on top of her head in elegant formations that look effortlessly pretty. He knows that’s not Padmé’s work, but he also can’t figure out if Breha or Bail is responsible. It’s not something he wants to ask.

The fanciest Anakin can do, after all, is two buns on either side of Leia’s head.

That do, truth be told, look rather like cinnamon rolls.

“Ah,” Kenobi says. “I believe I understand the miscommunication here. Korkie, would you like to tell the Skywalkers what you meant when you told Luke that Leia’s hair looked like cinnamon buns?”

If possible, the kid turns even more red, blushing furiously. “I really like cinnamon buns,” he mutters, crossing his arms tighter. “They’re my favorite.”

“He’s started asking for them for breakfast several times a week,” Kenobi tells Anakin with a smile lingering around his lips. “I’ve been wondering why.”

Anakin isn’t sure he likes the explanation. Sure, Korkie can have whatever sort of crush on his daughter that he wants to have, but likening her hair to cinnamon buns isn’t very kind, and he’s pretty sure that if someone else was the judge in this trial, they wouldn’t be so quick to justify the other boy’s words.

Luke seems to agree with him. “Your hair looks like carrots,” he snaps, crossing his arms.

Because Anakin is an intelligent adult who understands that making enemies with the headmaster’s son isn’t the best move, he adds on the Skywalker family’s behalf, “Luke loves carrots.”

Luke, in fact, hates carrots.

“There is still the matter of Luke pushing Korkie off the swing,” Kenobi says, eyebrows raised like he understands exactly what’s going unsaid here. “We do not encourage physical violence of any sort here, and it was dangerous. Korkie could have been hurt much more badly than a scraped knee.”

The words are very serious and grave, and Luke wilts under the headmaster-principal-father’s disappointed stare. Anakin bristles.

“Well, it’s his first infraction,” he says. “And he was sticking up for his sister. I think that’s fair. He won’t do it again.”

“Hm,” Kenobi says, pushing papers aside and pulling out a glossy leaflet. “Now, I cannot force you to consider this, but I noticed that neither Luke nor Leia are currently enrolled in any of our extracurriculars.”

“They’re five.”

“We have many on offer at Jedi Prepatory School,” Kenobi continues as if Anakin hasn’t said anything. “And I wanted to highlight our peewee hockey league. I think both Leia and Luke would enjoy the rigorous schedule, and they may…benefit from the…structure it offers. And team activity.”

Anakin glowers. He can read between the lines. Kenobi’s just called his parenting style structureless and lazy. It makes him want to grab the pamphlet and rip it to shreds in front of him. “I would have to talk about it with their mother,” he says stiffly instead.

“Of course,” Kenobi says cheerfully. “When you do, please give Bail and Breha my well-wishes as well. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the time to see them, given how exhastingly busy it is to be the headmaster and principal of an elementary school.”

“Right,” Anakin grits out. “Yeah. I’ll let my ex-wife’s new partners know.”

Kenobi’s smile is all teeth. “I look forward to seeing you in the rink, Mr. Skywalker Esquire. My son plays on the team.”

Anakin wonders if there’s another peewee hockey team he can have his kids join. Just so they can beat Jedi Prepatory school and then laugh in Korkie and Dr. Kenobi’s faces.

Yeah. That sounds really nice.

He’ll look when he gets back to work.

This takes priority.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #i actually love writing aus where they're assholes to each other from the start and also insane about the other #anakin definitely finds a different peewee (baby hockey) team for teh twins #and makes sure he can make it to their every game #especially those against jedi prep #so he can spend the entire time sniping at kenobi #this time with gloves off because their kids can't hear them from the ice #rude and mean and barbed enough that all the other parents throw kenobi startled looks #and given them a wide berth #they hate each other they're flirting like mad they sneak away from the school cupcake sale to fuck in the computer lab #anakin has never been more involved in his twins' kindergarten education #neither has dr kenobi

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

Text

Dating Eddie Munson Headcanons

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN! / AFAB! Reader

Warnings: sfw and nsfw, minors DNI

A/N: my baby boy Eddie! here’s my headcanons on what it’s like to date him, aka. a bullet point list of what I wish my life was lmao! I hope you guys like it <3

p.s. this is quite long bc I got really into it, I’m just so unbelievably in love with this boy it’s kinda dumb tbh! like fr I could probably still add loads more onto this, perhaps if I have enough ideas I might just make a part two… (but no promises) regardless, I assure you there’s still plenty more Eddie content to come

next is Billy, and then last but not least in my series of headcanons will be Jonathan <3

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

SFW

so I’m just imagining that you and Eddie kind of grow up together and were childhood besties

and you kinda grew apart in high school when he suddenly started acting differently and pulling away from you

little did you know it’s bc he started to develop a huge ass crush on you and just didn't know how to deal with it, he also never in a million years thought you would ever consider dating him

eventually you confront him about why he’s been so distant with you and acting all weird with you bc you think you’ve done something wrong and it’s upsetting you to see your best friend slowly slip away

and it’s in the heat of this argument that he accidentally ends up admitting that he likes you, like a lot

finally getting together with Eddie is fucking amazing bc almost nothing changes from how your friendship was before, now you just get to kiss and more as well, you are quite literally dating your best friend

dating Eddie means going to his gigs often to support him

not to mention making out backstage

also him asking you to put eyeliner on him before he goes on stage

he’ll serenade you often with metal covers of your favourite songs

and he also always dedicates his live performances to you

I feel like Eddie is quite touchy-feely with his partner, like he’ll always be holding onto you in one way or another, slapping your ass in public, he doesn’t care, he just loves it and he loves you, he’s into pda and letting everyone see how whipped he is for you

he also loves when you're touching him in some way, like if you drape your legs over his on the couch or you just sit and play with his hands / rings absent-mindedly

he also loves it when you play with his hair and braid it, giving him lil head scratches, he’s honestly like a little kitten purring in your lap

he makes you your vey own Hellfire shirt, but that doesn’t stop you from stealing his one anyway bc it smells like him

wearing his clothes frequently, mostly his shirts and his jackets, but also sometimes you ’borrow’ some of his jewellery, like some of his chain necklaces and bracelets

one of your favourite dates together is frequently going to the arcade together

frequent movie nights / marathons, also going to the cinema to watch horror films and he is just as big of a wimp as you and you’re both clutching onto each other for dear life

also plenty of study dates bc you need to help that boy pass his final year lmao

but usually your study dates end with him, well, getting very touchy-feely with you...

letting him teach you all about dnd and loving how enthusiastic he gets about it and how his eyes light up and he just comes alive

like this boy might not be the most academically smart, but his creativity? the stories he can build for his campaigns? his imagination is just incredible

he also likes to mould a character in all his campaigns after you

him always making ’nerdy’ references and jokes about dnd or other fantasy films / books

like the memory this boy has is also something incredible, he can explain the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy to you in excruciating detail without even thinking about it

this means he also has a great memory about you, the things you like and dislike, so he’s always bringing or showing you things that are relevant to your interests / things he thinks you’d like

again, he’s not the most academically or book smart but he’s really practical and amazing with his hands, like he’s really good at fixing and building things, and he’s often fiddling, fixing, and adjusting things on his van and around the trailer

I also see Eddie as a comic nerd too so every Saturday the two of you would go to the local comic book shop and pick up the latest issues and then the two of you would chill in his trailer or in his van in the afternoon just reading the latest stories and discussing them with each other

he’ll give you his favourite ring on a chain for you to wear around your neck

Eddie loves to take pictures of you, he has a whole collection of pictures of you and of the two of you together, and he keeps his absolute favourite one of you in his wallet so he can look at it whenever he wants

he also frequently makes you mixtapes of songs that he thinks you’ll like or songs that remind him of you

small matching tattoo perhaps? like a tiny lil crumbling and broken coffin in honour of his band Corroded Coffin

speaking of tattoos, Eddie would take you with every time he went to get a new one, and he always asks for your opinion on the design of whatever it is before he gets it done

Eddie also sometimes gets a bit self-conscious and feels like he’s not good enough for you, like you’re just too smart or too good for him, so every now and again you have to reassure him that you literally couldn’t care less what anyone else, you just love him wholeheartedly and that’s all that matters

he is super good at reading you and can spot immediately if something is bothering you, and he’s really good at helping calm you down and easing your anxiety as well, he can literally find a way to make you laugh, or at least smile, no matter how shitty you feel

the two of you don’t argue often but when you Eddie’s not the greatest at dealing with it, he usually just tries to remove himself from the situation and distance himself

but it never takes too long for him to come back and for the two of you to makeup bc he can’t stand being apart from you for too long, let alone whilst you’re mad at him too

Eddie, imo, is overall by far the bestest boyfriend you could ask for, like he’s just so loving and so much fun and is so unbelievably head over heels for you he almost doesn’t know how to cope

pet-names: (for you) babe, baby, babygirl, babydoll, doll, princess, (if you do go by feminine labels), sweetheart, my love

pet-names: (for him) babe, baby, Ed / Eds, weirdo (affectionate), dungeon master, love / my love

NSFW

okay so I’ve seen loads of people headcanon Eddie as being a virgin but idk I have to respectfully disagree, imo there’s just something about him that screams to me that he gets a fair amount of pussy

but it’s all just meaningless hookups and one night stands with random people at his gigs every now and then

so he’s not exactly inexperienced but the first time with you all knowledge and experience goes out the window and the boy is flustered

he is stressed bc suddenly now feelings are involved, and it’s you, and he wants to do the absolute best for you

so yeah your first time with Eddie is a lil bumpy and awkward bc he’s overthinking it

it takes a bit of convincing for him to get out of his head and to just go for it but eventually he does and that’s when you discover he’s actually fucking incredible in bed

bc he’ll most definitely put in the work to learn what specifically you like and how to have you (s)creaming

and we all know this boy is a fucking master with his hands and his fingers

Eddie is the biggest switch to ever switch, like he’s just an all-rounder and we love him for that

he can go from fucking you so hard and fast you’re practically split in half, to then being so soft and tender whilst making love to you you swear your heart is gonna burst from the intimacy and passion

then of course also the switch from dom to sub, bc my guy Eddie can do it all

sometimes he has you completely under his control, with a patience that’s almost excruciating when he’s commanding and controlling when you’re allowed to cum

like this boy has hella patience from playing and planning long dnd campaigns, he’s most definitely got the patience to tease you and watch you squirm as he keeps you just on the precipice of pleasure without actually letting you climax, or alternatively keeping you tied up and making you cum so many times your body just can’t take it

that’s when he likes to incorporate those handcuffs into sex as well, keeping you completely under his control (come on now, we all saw them in his trailer lmao)

he occasionally lets you use the handcuffs on him and he’s almost embarrassed by how much he likes it himself

Eddie is also really into cockwarming, he loves to be deep inside you as you sit on his lap whilst he carries on writing a dnd campaign or something, sometimes just bouncing his leg or readjusting every now and again just to tease you even more

but when he’s in sub mode he’s almost the complete opposite, looking at you with those big brown eyes and practically begging you to let him cum

he gets absolutely weak in the knees when you blow him, like the noises he makes? straight out of a porno honestly

I definitely think one of Eddie’s favourite positions is to have you riding him, wearing nothing but his Hellfire shirt of course, he likes to just lean back and watch you fuck yourself on him

in that respect he also loves having you get off on his thigh as well

Eddie definitely has some voyeuristic tendencies; he fucking loves to watch you get yourself off

he also has a collection of filthy Polaroids stored under his bed of you and of you and him together, ya know, for those nights you can’t come over (see also my fic based on this here)

Eddie can also be goofy in bed sometimes, like he’s still quipping jokes whilst he’s balls or knuckle deep inside you

but the goofiness honestly just helps make you feel even more safe and secure with him

Eddie loves to experiment with new positions with you, and sometimes this is where the laughs and goofy giggles come from, when a new position just doesn’t work and the two of you just collapse laughing together

most of his favourite positions are the ones where he can have your whole body almost completely flush against his, so like missionary, fucking you from behind and leaning over your entire body, lying sideways and fucking you, holding you tight against him

but also let’s be real he loves a bit of doggy style on occasion too

i could also potentially see Eddie letting you peg him if it’s something you really wanted to try, and I feel like he’d actually end up liking it

he’s obsessed with your body, like he genuinely thinks you’re the most beautiful and sexy creature to ever grace this earth, no matter what you look like

he loves all of your body but his particular favourite parts are your ass, thighs, and your belly

like he just loves to kiss them and grab at them all the time, and he loves to grace those areas of your skin with plenty of hickies

Eddie is also very into choking you, he likes to the view of seeing his big hand wrapped around your throat, not to mention the look in your eyes when he does it, and of course he fucking loves seeing the red print that is left around your throat afterwards

having sex whilst you’re both high

so ngl I can also see Eddie being into dogging, like driving somewhere remote and parking and then fucking you in the back of his van

but yours and his favourite spot is at Lover’s Lake, parking there late at night, opening the backdoors of the van, being able to watch the stars and the water, listen to the sounds of the soft waves and the surrounding woods, whilst he slowly and tenderly fucks you in the van again - (see also my fic of this here)

aftercare king™️

he’ll wipe you down with a warm cloth, get you a shirt of his to wear, make you some food and / or get you a drink; he basically won’t sit back down until he’s content that you’ve been taken care of

Eddie is best to snuggle, he’ll just wrap his entire body around you, limbs completely entangled, and he just won’t let you go, even if you’re not exactly comfy lmao

he is quick to fall asleep after sex though so once he’s dozed off you usually carefully unwrap yourself from him and get comfy sleeping with just one of his arms comfortably draped over you

Author’s Note / Disclaimer: please remember that these are headcanons, i.e. this is how I personally view the character. you may disagree and that is completely fine, I just ask that you don’t leave any disrespectful or rude comments about it. thank you in advance.

Masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things headcanons #stranger nightmare

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kitsune-oji · 5 months

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Hi! Nice to find your blog! I just read your "There is no guarantee you will be different", and I loved it! I was wondering if I could request the same thing for Lucifer? And/Or Satan? Especially as these two have anger issues. And I think it could be interesting?

I especially loved to finally find a prompt/story where it's relatable for this type of trust issues. Thank you!

There's No Guarantee You will be Different

Mc who has been hurt a lot in the past (betrayed, lied to, used) even by those that promised otherwise and were nice at first and struggles to trust others because of it. Not understanding why someone would actually like/love them or not believing them, being scared of getting hurt again and again like in the past.

Of course! Sorry this took so long but I hope you like it :)

Characters: Lucifer, Satan

Other: Barbatos & Beel, Mammon

-> feel free to request this with other obey me characters too

Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort-y, implied intimate actions (Lucifer), implied violence against third parties (Satan)

"You keep saying you love me, you keep promising that you will never leave, that you'll never hurt me... How do you know that? There's no guarantee. In the past, I've trusted those who told me all that and in the end, they ended up breaking all their promises anyway. Please, don't promise me things you can't keep. Even if you think you can keep them now, you don't know how it will be in the future. Maybe you'll get sick of me too, just like everyone else. I love you too but... I'm just scared. I'm sorry."

Lucifer

"...no, I guess I don't know that. You're right but you're also wrong. I love you right now and that is the truth. I can't see myself not loving you in the future and you can't expect me to act the way others have before me. ...their actions say nothing about your worth, even if it may be hard to recognize that. I'll make sure you will understand your worth. You should be proud to be yourself."

Lucifer is upset over the fact that you would hold him to the same standards as those who have hurt you in the past but after the initial displeasure, he understands that that isn't what he should be focusing on

He's convinced that the main problem is the fact that your confidence and self image has been damaged from your prior experience and that helping you build yourself back up will make you less anxious about the relationship you two have

Honestly, he's not wrong

Lucifer pays attention to verbally recognize any achievements you make and praise you for them

Sometimes, he asks you to tell him good things about yourself and will reward you for every thing you can list with confidence. Your rewards depend on what you like, obviously ;)

It's incredibly sweet when someone like Lucifer makes an effort to voice and show you how much he thinks of you. Not just the affection he as for you, which is plenty, but also how he appreciates you as another person. The skills you have, how much you do for him and his brothers, the effort he sees you put into your self-betterment and anything else positive he sees

You're an amazing person and in his eyes, everyone who has hurt and left you in the past are downright dumb and not worth your time anyway

Satan

In the first moment, it pisses Satan off so badly to hear those words that he has to go outside and search out the street cars he regularly goes to just to clear his head

Once he isn't so angry anymore, he feels bad over the fact he just stormed out like that

"I'm sorry. I'm not angry at you, just at the fact that you feel this way. They had no right to hurt you like that and I can't understand how they couldn't see how wonderful you are. You weren't appreciated by those you loved in the past but I'll make sure not to make the same mistake. I know it's hard for you to trust me but please, give me a chance to show you I'm different."

Satan regrets his initial reaction and wants to make it up to you even more

Honestly, there's a part of him that wants to make the people who hurt you pay and if you let him, he will. You won't have to hear about it if you don't want to, everything is up to you

He tries to find romance stories where the main character has gone through similar pain as you did and find love in the progress of the book with the intent that it may show you that there is always hope

If you want, he can read them to you as well

Little notes of poems and anecdotes are scattered everywhere from your school books to your lunchboxes talking about Satan's love for you and what makes you so lovable in his eyes

He makes a list of all the romantic dates he has heard or read about and wants to try with you. You can rank them with him and then Satan will do his best to make everything come true one by one

Yet the most touching and convincing situation for you were the times when Satan was so lost in his rage that he couldn't see clearly and yet the mere sound of your voice calmed him so quickly that you almost go whiplash from the way he switched around

Even cats didn't always work to make Satan get out of his blinding wrath but every time you manage to do just that, it makes you feel that you truly mean as much to him as he claims and it reassures you that maybe, this time will be different after all

#obey me shall we date #mine #om! swd #obey me nightbringer #race neutral mc #gender neutral reader #gn mc #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #X reader #Hurt comfort #Comfort #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #Writing

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 1 month

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medialog february 2k24

is it almost april. yes. am i letting that stop me. no. the perfect is the enemy of the good!

watched

she must be seeing things - a 1987 indie about a woman who gets obsessively jealous about her girlfriend's past after discovering her collection of photographs of ex-boyfriends; this movie contained one of the most human-feeling love scenes taking place between two characters in an established relationship i have ever seen, and captured the feel of new york city apartments inhabited by the un-rich in a visceral way. it is also a funny movie about how annoying artists are. i am like sincerely curious as to whether jonathan larson, during the years before or while he was developing rent, caught a screening of this (it had its premiere at film forum, where i saw it), because a story of sexual jealousy between a very professional black lesbian lawyer and her irritating yet captivating white bisexual artist girlfriend... did feel a little familiar to me as a person who could still belt out every line of take me or leave me in my sleep, ngl!

poor things - we've discussed this but: Yes. Me. Absolutely. i wanted to live in the world of this movie forever, it could have been four hours long and i NEVER say that shit. one of those where sometimes i see critiques or queries i think are valid and i nod peacefully and think: ah, but it wasn't for that; it was for me, to have a treat. also one of those where people are saying some bonkers ass shit about it all over the place, as we have also discussed; i do genuinely believe that reading it as in any way interested in or convinced it is describing a story of female empowerment is deeply misguided, and that much of the pleasure of the movie comes from the fact that bella doesn't need to be empowered, because she has been lucky enough to be raised as an experiment rather than as a woman, which is a fun sexy provocation that is of course nonsensical if taken literally but incredibly fun for me (the person this movie was for) to sit with for two hours.

office space - i watched this in high school and HAAAATED it, was bored out of my mind, and then every time it came up in conversation, which it did a lot because this is how things were in high school in 2005, i would say i didn't get it and the person i was talking to would say, "you have to watch it twice." i don't think i've ever had an experience with a piece of media where the response to my response was so reliably uniform. anyway yeah this is funnier the second time. stephen root might be our greatest living actor idk

drive-away dolls - YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCHHHHHHHH

the heartbreak kid - elaine may's mikey and nicky is one of the most emotionally brutal films i've ever watched, but i think i found this harder to sit through. it's brilliant - i talked about it with a friend who'd seen it sometime earlier who said it was the first movie she could remember seeing that confronted men's fantasies so directly, which is apt - but absolutely excruciating. i never really understood what the film people were talking about when they talked about the use of cuts to build/release tension until the scene at a restaurant where a guy keeps winding himself up to break up with his wife on their honeymoon, and not doing it, and the camera just makes you stay with him until you are begging for relief.

sex, lies & videotape - rewatch with director's commentary. steven soderbergh is definitely on the list of famous people i delusionally believe i could be friends with if the circumstances of life had caused our paths to overlap.

zone of interest - another one that has really Brought Out The Takes, about which i'll just say: no one in this movie is turning a blind eye to what they're doing with the possible exception of the mother, who's happy to join in with some chattily murderous antisemitism but finds the material reality of it too distasteful to stay (in at least one potential reading of a plot point left interestingly ambiguous). personally i thought the film was (1) almost completely disinterested in the question of the banality of evil (2) quite good.

mission: impossible - i talked my friend into going through the series with me and we started off with a double-header; the colors in this movie are sooooooo good. tom cruise at this point has obviously had work done by xenu's finest specialists but revisiting this did remind me that he actually also genuinely always has looked quite young for his age - he's 34 in this but he looks like a baby.

mission: impossible - 2 - i literally can't believe there are people who don't like this movie. grow up

read

monster midway: an uninhibited look at the glittering world of the carny, william lindsay gresham - i guess i don't know what i expected from a nonfiction book about the carnival by the author of nightmare alley, the great american novel, but it definitely wasn't 300 pages about how the carnival is the most special and wonderful place on earth and the people who've given their lives to it are the noblest, boldest, most magical folks you can find. i particularly enjoyed the section on palmistry as cold-reading, which included a long quote from fake psychic about how really most people just need to be told some basic emotional truths and to believe in themselves, so if she can give them that, that's a dollar well spent, which is tbh hard to argue with.

listened

rosie tucker - tiny songs vol. 1 - rosie tucker came onto my radar through one of dave's mixes, which i'm still listening to - her song "all my exes live in vortexes," which opens "i hope no one had to piss in a bottle at work to get me the thing i ordered on the internet," caught my ear - and while i haven't delved further into her discography, i did love this 12-track, 10 minute album (not a typo!), which gives you the sense of someone spitballing an idea for a song just long enough to start it, then losing interest and moving on to the next one, but in a good way? idk it's fun and weird and only 10 minutes!

#media 2k24 #isabel 2k24

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cavewretch · 5 months

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I would live to hear more of your roier thoughts, both character and creator wise, but I understand if you're too tired with mcyt and the content format for that. just think that the recent post you wrote was incredibly interesting and would be very curious for more.

like apart from general thoughts on roier both character and streamer, what specifically would you be curious to hear him explain about his character?

helloooo!!! don't worry i'd love to say more i haven't mentally escaped cubitos yet lmfao. i'm glad you thought so, anon!! :3

i'd love to hear roier's thoughts on roleplay in general (how he approaches it or prepares for it) bc he's so subtle and long term with his character. i'm curious how intentional he is with his performance too. like of course it's all mostly improvised so his actions aren't usually planned, but his actions in-character build up beautifully. like him in-character hiding that he's good at pvp and then revealing he's actually one of the strongest fighters on the island - that was a months long character choice that he couldn't even guarantee would pay off! or when after bobby's death he stopped doing dungeons for fun, but would immediately snap into fighter mode when he had to if it meant protecting the others. (off the top of my head i'm thinking of the cellbit and felps rescue mission and the code sword mission).

idek if he thinks about roleplay this deliberately but he's gotta have some sort of qroier brainspace constructed bc of how things have progressed, no? like, at risk of being unbearable, yeah it's minecraft but it's also theater lmfao

(also tangent but roier's playstyle for most games i've seen him play is offense, he quickly evaluates a little and then launches into situations headfirst, so it's interesting to watch that translate into a defensive role)

anyways more specifically bc i feel like i haven't even answered ur question yet fjshdjshf - to roier, about qroier: does he want to know his past? does he get frustrated with how he's perceived by the other islanders? what keeps him from correcting people? how does roier decide when qroier's angry enough to show it? to me, qroier's breaking points are betrayal and the people he loves- what does he believe about himself that keeps his personal safety and pride from that list? ALSO this is less important to story im just curious- melissa started as a disguise to manipulate quackity but has sort of evolved into a drag persona, why does he refuse to tell people he and melissa are the same person? (i imagine its to keep the secret from getting to quackity or keeping it as another secret asset in his back pocket but i wanna hear him talk about it)

and finally to roier - if he could retcon anything in qsmp what would he retcon and why hehehe

i thought purgatory would be a breaking point for qroier, and it was in some ways (i'm no longer a clown, i'm no longer joking, actually fuck all this lets burn all our stuff to force system change) but the consequences are so blurry it seems like qroier had to shrink back a bit into lying in wait (FOR WHAT???) once they returned to the island/he was handed pepito. disclaimer tho i haven't watched any qsmp since the end of purgatory i've just read posts and talked w my sister who still watches it

this got out of hand - i hope i answered your question!!!

#<- TRIPOIER #thank u for the asks !!!#wretch answers #roier #qroier

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obsidiancreates · 3 months

Text

Shawn The Human (Seriously Just Take His Blood)

(These are all separate universes- in each one it's just the focus character who's a vamp. Shawn only has so much blood to recklessly offer his friends, if it was all 3 at once he'd be beef jerky. Tell me Shawn's fatal flaw isn't loyalty and a willingness to do Anything for his friends even if it's questionable and weird- you can't. Also I'm severely sleep deprived so I hope this is good but IDK)

Lassiter

"Seriously, Lassie, you can't keep just draining criminals." Shawn leans against the pillar by Lassie's desk and watches him fill out another report about a perp having an 'accident' while escaping custody on the way to the prison. "If you keep hypnotizing the chief, she's going to build up an immunity, and then where will you be?"

"Spencer, I still have no idea what you're on about." He does, and Shawn knows it- he figured out Lassie was turned into a vampire less than a week after it happened.

"Lassie, what I'm trying to say-" he jogs after the detective, "-is that as long as you don't need to kill to drink, I don't see why you're risking your whole career over this."

"Since when do you care about my career?"

"Since the possibility of you leaving, Jules getting a new partner she hates, and me having to work up a whole new dynamic became real."

"What're you even offering, Spencer?"

"Dude, I have blood!"

That makes Lassiter stop in his tracks. He turns to face Shawn, slowly, with no small amount of disgust on his face. "You want me... to drink your blood? ... Is this a fetish?"

"What?! No!" Shawn tsks and looks away. "Man, don't make this weird. It's just one friend, offering his blood to another more undead-y friend. How much will you even need to take, anyway? I've got like, a gallon of it, probably."

"I wouldn't drink your blood if you were the last human in the entire state of California. It's probably half crappy energy drinks and sluggish with Cheeto dust."

"First of all, Doritos dust. Second of all, what's better for you- blood you don't have to hypnotize the entire department to get away with, or blood that's probably exactly like mine but with more crimes in it?"

"Crime isn't in blood."

"How would you know, you've only tasted criminal blood."

"Not doing it, Spencer." He walks away. Shawn chases after him.

"Lassie! I-I'm serious man, if you keep this up you're going to get caught! I want to help you keep this a secret!"

"Then stop shouting about it!"

"LASSIE!"

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

2. Juliet

"Jules. Are you an undead mistress of the damned, or are you just having a great hair day?"

Jules smiles and rolls her eyes. She figured Shawn would know sooner or later- how couldn't he? He's psychic, the world of the dead who aren't dead are sort of his whole thing.

"How long have you known?"

"Four days- I was making a list of ways to break it to you."

"And you settled on that."

"Well now I feel self-conscious."

"Why're you telling me you know, Shawn?"

"Just, checking in! Seeing how you're doing. If you need blood."

"Shawn." Jules stands up, taking a folder from her desk to the filing cabinets. "I'm not killing anyone."

"I never said you were! And I know you never would. But that can't be easy, still."

"It is, actually."

"H-how?"

"I get Christmas cards from people I arrest, Shawn. It's not hard to convince a few close friends to donate a little blood to me when possible."

"It's not? ... The other day I couldn't even get Gus to give me his half-finished hours-old coke."

"Yes. But that's you, and Gus, and food. So nothing will be reasonable."

"... That's fair. ... But uh, want to add one-one more friend, to that list?"

"That's very sweet of you Shawn, really, but..."

"But?"

"But... your blood seems like it might be a little..."

"Too alluring? Irresistible? Spiced with my incredible magic genes?"

"... Junk-food-y."

"Junk food? Wh- Jules! Between Gus and I, I am not the one who eats things like stick-o-butter-in-a-bun!"

"Please tell me you just made that up."

"I wish I could."

"Shawn, look, I appreciate the thought, but the truth is I'm all set and, well, I'd just rather keep this and my work life separate, as much as possible."

"... Alright. Fine. ... But know that if we're ever out there catching bad guys and you need an emergency snack, my neck is right here."

"Thanks, Shawn. ... Can I get into the file cabinet now?"

"Oh, right."

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

3. Gus

"Dude, seriously." Shawn watches Gus pace the office. "Stop freaking out about it and just bite me. You're going to starve to... well not death, I guess. Undeath? That's already you. Maybe... a coma? But that doesn't seem right either."

"I am not drinking your blood, Shawn. What if that turns you into a vampire too?!"

"Then we'll literally be best friends forever! That's just a win-win, Gus!"

"Well- well what if I can't stop and I kill you?!"

"Then you still just turn me, still a win-win."

"Shawn, this is serious!"

"So am I! Look, we both know there's no way in hell you're going out hunting and stalking and all that stuff, and we both know you're not willing to steal from a blood bank-"

"Those bags were donated for medical purposes, Shawn! There's already a major shortage, I will not be apart of making that worse!"

"Exactly! And you've got one best friend right here, literally sticking his neck out for you."

"No. No way. It's too risky, and too weird!"

"How is this the weirdest thing we've done for each other?"

"Because it's your blood, Shawn. That's supposed to stay inside your body!"

"Well, a lot of it was outside my body after I got shot, and I was fine."

"You told me you passed out a couple times!"

"Okay, I said I fell asleep in the woods once, and got hit in the head after that. Totally different, besides, how much blood loss is actually bad for me anyway?"

"Oh... my gosh."

"Look, Gus, it's either this or something way worse. You're already so freaked out and torn up over this whole thing, I just... don't want to see you pushed to a limit you'll never come back from."

"... Well... I appreciate that, Shawn. ... And I guess I at least know what is and isn't present in your blood."

"Exactly."

"... But biting the neck still feels weird."

"Wrist?"

"Euhhhhh..."

"Well it's not like we can just buy a do-it-yourself-at-home blood drawing kits, Gus. ... Can we?"

"Already looking online."

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #psychfic #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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8one6 · 1 month

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Ever since I was in high school (in the before times, in the long, long ago) I had dreamed of taking road trip. Just me, my car (in high school it was a Cadillac Hearse that got absolutely awful gas mileage and high school me used to bitch about gas when it went over a $1 a gallon), and the open road, but I never managed to do it. Sometimes it was money, sometimes it was lack of opportunity, sometimes it was just the fear of doing something new.

In my mid-30s I finally did it and let me tell you it was one of the best experiences of my life.

A few years ago (2022 to be exact) my boss made me take a vacation in the spring (mostly because I had two years of pto from not using it during the lockdown years, but also because he was legitimately concerned with my stress levels, but anyway) and that year I decided to take two weeks to see all three Meow Wolf locations in one big trip. (Convergence Station is the coolest one btw, with Omega-Mart a close second.)

I70 through Kansas is a zen experience if you make the drive at night. Endless fields of stars and farmland, accompanied by whatever podcast you queued up for the drive.

Visited family in Denver, spent a day at Convergence Station, and the drive to Santa Fe was like driving through a postcard!

The House of Eternal Return was neat (IMO it relies a little too much on backstory you can only really get from sitting down and reading a lot of the SCP-style documents lying around the house, but unless you rented the entire place for the day you're competing with dozens of other people who are also trying to read the same thing.), I stayed at this cool, fully restored Route 66 vintage motel called the El Rey Court (A++, would stay again), and then I was off to Las Vegas.

There's a trick i40 plays on you. You'll be driving through some incredibly beautiful but still harsh desert wasteland (I passed more than one husk of an abandoned building on that stretch of highway) and then all of a sudden you're in a lush green forest. It was seriously as close to passing from one Minecraft biome to another as you can get in real life. (I also stopped at Meteor Crater National Landmark. It was cool.)

Just outside of Vegas I got two incredibly singular experiences. The first was seeing a tumbleweed in real life for the first time. I swear, I was alone in my car and I said out loud "Holy shit they're real!!!" The second was driving through an actual sand storm. In hindsight I should have pulled over and let it pass, but no one else on the road was doing it, so I just crawled through it at 30mph.

I spent a few nights in Las Vegas. Visited Omega-Mart (super cool, I recommend it), watched Blue Man Group (also very cool, also highly recommend), got to see a Penn & Teller show live (a fucking dream of mine since I was a little kid!!!), and had the best meal of my life.

Honestly, before that trip if you told me there was a difference between a $20 steak from Longhorn and a $100 steak from an actual steak restaurant I'd have called bullshit. I was in Las Vegas, I figured "This is likely the last time I'll take a trip like this, fuck it, why not splurge."

Oh my sweet raptor christ! The $100 steak was worth every cent!

What followed was a day of driving through beautiful parts of Nevada, Utah, and Colorado, including the most nerve-wracking stretch of highway through the mountains (literally through them in one spot. The Eisenhower tunnel is a little more than a mile and a half of tunnel bored straight through the spine of the Americas). A brief stop to sleep, and then 14 hours straight on home.

It was a fantastic trip. Two weeks away from home, from work, from any responsibility, the first time off since 2019. Two weeks of moving to my own schedule and crossing things off of the bucket list.

#road trip #meow wolf #las vegas #santa fe #denver #american southwest #journal #blog #vacation

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cogcltrcorn · 7 months

Text

I was tagged by @flippy-floppy , and I have maybe taken this a bit too seriously.

hmmm. this is actually very hard bc I am very bad at remembering things. also I very frequently obsess over books that are like, objectively Bad (like have I spent a solid 2 months thinking about it by stephen king and only about it by stephen king? yes. is it good? no. did I like it? no. did I still analyze it thoroughly? yes. next question). so. yeah. anyway

I will for sure wake up tomorrow like "OH MY GOD HOW COULD I FORGET [BLANK]" but I am at peace with that fact

in no particular order:

Fathers and sons, Ivan Turgenev - well. it's a book about russian nihilism, it's a book about the political schism between the generations in 19th century russia, and it's a book about idolizing reason and then being forced to contend with the fact that you are still a human being that is both capable of love and craves it deeply. also it is lowkey about being a college student homoerotically enraptured with your very smart and charismatic friend who is an absolute dick. and what happens if you bring this guy to stay with you and your family during the break.

chronicles of amber by roger zelazny - I am gonna be honest with you I do not remember half of that series. including this might be cheating bc it's like. 10 books. whatever. rules are made up. it's good. it's very fucking good. just writing about it right now makes me want to reread it. anyway it's fantasy and there's reality shifting and there is complex lore and yeah no I think this book has radically altered my brain chemistry when I read it.

twenty thousand leagues under the seas by jules verne - look. 9 yo cog fucking Loved boring descriptions of marine wildlife. I was fucking Entranced by this book. this book started my years long obsession with jules verne novels. I may or may not be autistic. like really I can put like. 5 jules verne books on this list. are they incredibly dated and filled to the brim with trademarked 19th century classist and racist bullshit? yes. are they boring as fuck if you do not care about like, the mechanics of building a kiln on a deserted island? yes. but I did. I did care about building a kiln. I wanted to know how traveling to the center of the earth would go. and I wanted to know if the gentleman could get around the world in 80 days. whatever. the important things is that I loved those books and I still love them and they are, at their core, about how fucking cool humans are and how we are capable of great achievements if we apply ourselves and how incredible the world around us is.

do androids dream of electric sheep? by philip k dick - once again there could be like. 4 books on this list. I fucking love his stuff actually. the man has spent his entire life doing coke, getting scared as a result, and then writing kick ass novels about what scared him. he got really into gnosticism by the end of his life. he thought that god talked to him through a spot of light. I fucking love his books. anyway. this specific one is about the way human spirit sirvives in a future that is rendered nearly uninhabitable by capitalistic greed. the world of do androids dream of electric sheep is artificial, obsessed with its own artificiality, and obsessed with proving itself to be Not artificial, ironically, inventing increasingly artificial ways to prove it. plot twist! the only real thing in the world built for profit is the human connections you build! anyway. I have beef with blade runner the movie bc it is NOT A GOOD ADAPTATION OF THE BOOK and has NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. I AM SICK AND TIRED.

actually I lied. here is another philip k dick novel

a scanner darkly - well. how do I explain. ok so basically this is a deeply biographical novel about the loss of identity and connection to reality as a result of drug usage. I fucking love it. reading it makes me go fucking insane. I highly recommend this to all of you, my darling succession mutuals

interview with the vampire, anne rice - made me insane. a theological and philosophical discussion with the guy with the weirdest moral code you have ever seen, with the added bonus of him complaining about his stupid greedy whore of an ex-husband

obligatory mention of 1984 by george orwell - well sorry. he did spit some facts here. also i need to re-read this bc I last read it like 6 years ago and I miss it. I feel kinda unoriginal by saying I love it but like. it Is good. I want to kill the protagonist with hammers, but it IS good... I think of her (1984 by george orwell) often....

red dragon, thomas harris - ok well you see I don't actually have to explain anything to you, do I? I just love it. don't know why. will graham is like a bug to me.

the count of monte cristo, alexander dumas - YET AGAIN!! GOD IS THIS BOOK ENCHANTING IF YOU ARE A CHILD NERD. it has everything: prison escape, complex revenge plot, brooding hero, a long ass side story that seems to have no connection to the main plot but eventually connects back to it, 19th century orientalism. man.

seeing the things other people have posted for this thingy made me realize I need to diversify my reading habits. mayhaps a man should not exclusively read postmodernist sci-fi and 19th century adventure novels. oh well.

anyway. if you wanna do it you can and you should. also go read philip k dick he is underrated as fuck

#yeah no. take my phone away from me

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nimona-antifa · 7 months

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14# for the Salty Ask List! What's your unpopular opinion about your fandom(s)?

OKAY SO. (This will be long, TL/DR at the bottom)

First of all, I love league of legends (as you may have guessed from my profile picture) and my unpopular opinion is that it (both the game and the fandom) gets shit on WAY too much. As someone who loves math, figuring out optimal builds is so much fun for me! I love solving puzzles and making rune pages and builds for different characters and then getting to try them out is so much fun for me! Is there a big Shonen anime brand misogyny problem in parts of the fandom? Yes, absolutely. Is it probably a good idea to mute liberally because of rampant toxicity? Also yes. But I've met some great people there too!!! Maybe I'm just incredibly fucking resilient because I've been dunked in some of the deepest strongest acid vats of toxicity and negativity out there (conservative christian upbringing, league of legends, playing riven specifically, Twitter, tiktok, Steven Universe fandom) and am still a ray of sunshine in person, but I actually quite enjoy it. Do I wish it wasn't hilariously broken with a character roster that's very much male dominated? Yes. Is there a misogyny problem even within the character balancing (male OP characters get ignored or buffed while female OP characters get nerfed into the ground)? Yes. But there's so much fun to be had if you know how.

Okay. Second big fandom is Team Fortress 2 and I think that uh. Well to put it kindly I think a lot of them miss the entire point of the game. They basically have sticks up their asses about weapons being "fair and balanced" and while I agree that they should be to a certain extent, I also think focusing on that too much risks losing the spirit of the game. If I wanted an optimized, polished first person shooter, I'd play overwatch. If blizzard could get it's shit together for five fucking seconds and realize it's making some of the worst possible business decisions with the game that is. But anyway back to TF2. If we were to optimize every single weapon to be 100% fair and balanced, we miss the entire point of the game. Like, a vast majority of the game would be gone if that were the case. It's not very fair and balanced to run through a doorway only to get instantly blown up because there were 5 stickybombs there you couldn't see, but removing that would make it not TF2. I think probably the best example of this is the Sandman and Flying Guillotine combo, may she be restored soon. Was it entirely balanced? No. But in my opinion that wasn't a good reason to remove it entirely. Same with the degreaser/reserve shooter combo. Just because they're annoying doesn't mean you get rid of them entirely. Another thing they get too upset about is when someone dare suggest that a niche weapon should be buffed to checks notes fill it's niche better. Take the amputator. It's niche is to provide AoE healing. But the situations where that's handy become uh. Much less frequent thanks to the specific quirks of how it works. You enter a short taunt during which you can't move. I personally feel like it could be better served by some sort of recharging bar and a big movement speed debuff. The other big hindrance is that the damage is a direct downgrade to the stock. The other Melees all provide some sort of combat advantage to stock. The Übersaw has a slower swing speed but greatly increased critical hit chance, which if you ask literally anyone who has played with or against the Übersaw, is a significant understatement. The vita-saw provides a psychological advantage with slightly less health but the knowledge that if you do die, you won't lose all of your Über. And the Amputator is basically the Overwatch experience, trading swing speed for knowledge of the enemy's health. The amputator provides none of this, which makes it pretty shitty as a self-defense tool. It does less damage than stock with no increased swing speed or bleed effect to balance things out. I won't go into a whole bunch of detail about my fixes but I just find it ridiculous the types of things that they say will lead to power creep. The Ambassador used to be able to headshot people from as far away as you could headshot people without a zoom, and it was just accepted as part of the game for the longest time. And I'm supposed to believe that weapons filling their intended purpose is gonna be too powerful? Okay whatever. I doubt hordes of people will be swapping off of Soldier just to hit me to death with a slightly improved bonesaw on the class that has the least combat capacity but apparently it's definitely going to happen if the amputator isn't a direct downgrade to the stock in terms of self-defense!!! Sorry this got long but basically:

TL/DR:

League of Legends isn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be and there's a lot of fun to be had if you know how to curate your experience

Some TF2 players are way too tryhard

#video games #league of legends #team fortress 2

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gooddaykass · 7 months

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The Broken Hearts Gallery: a review

Before actually watching this movie, I absolutely didn’t, not in a thousand years, think that I would merely even enjoy it. I had my reasons, or rather excuses for the negative presumption, just like how I seem to have my excuses for everything else in life. The movie wasn’t famous, none of the actors were well known, the IMDB rating wasn’t looking too interesting, it seemed to be just another typical romcom, blah blah blah.

Then why did I want to watch the movie to begin with, you ask? Well, I have a habit that once an actor really impresses me, I’d watch their entire filmography. It seems obsessive at times and most of the time I would only find mediocre movies at best, in which the actor played a mediocre character, but there are still those very few times I’d find those mind-blowing films buried deep somewhere on the internet no one knows about but me and those moments keep me going.

This time, it was Dacre Montgomery. I, like many of us, was captured by his incredible performance as Billy Hargrove in Stranger Things. I found it very impressive how he was able to embody the tension, the venom, the violence that Billy always carried around, yet still beautifully humanised him and made the character resonate with the audience. The complexity, depth, and potential of this character need their own post, and that’s future-me’s problem.

As expected, I then watched through almost everything written in his filmography section on his Wikipedia page (in which I realised I had watched Power Rangers before and remember nothing about Dacre in that movie!) and eventually came The Broken Hearts Gallery. I will spare you the rant about how much I did not want to watch the movie in the beginning, but just this time, okay? 🙄

Well, I was painfully wrong. The movie was absolutely amazing. It has been a while since the last time I enjoyed a piece of romcom that much (though to be honest, romance isn’t exactly my thing).

summary

Essentially, the movie is about our girl, Lucy (Geraldine Viswanathan), and her journey of building her own gallery, getting over her ex(es), and gaining a new (boy)friend, Nick (Dacre Montgomery), along the way. Lucy is a girl filled with passion: she loves art and dreams of owning her own gallery one day. During a big event at the gallery she is working at, she catches her boyfriend, Max, cheating on her with his ex. Hurt and drunk, she makes quite a scene at the event, consequently getting herself fired.

After the event, she calls an Uber to get home but gets into Nick’s (the love interest) car instead, for that she mistakes him for her Uber driver, and he drives her home anyway since she refuses to get out of the car in her drunken-in-misery state of mind. Lucy then complains about the disastrous night with Nick on her way home. They meet the second time when she follows Max and his ex-turn-girlfriend into a restaurant and Nick pulls her out of it to prevent a scene from being made. The two of them get close while she is helping him with building his dream hotel in exchange for gallery space there at the hotel. Overall, the movie has a very light mood, things didn’t get too serious.

The movie is bright, lighthearted, funny, sweet. It is bright, not the blinding brightness at midday but rather the first spec of light at the crack of dawn from the window of your bedroom. To me, the movie feels like the giddy, happy feeling you get staying up all night talking to a close friend you haven’t seen in a while. You talk about everything in the world, from the crazy project you’ve been working on to the cute kid in class you’re having a crush on. You talk so long that when you look out the window, the sky’s already lighting up. The sun’s not up all the way, the sky is still in a deep shade of blue, but it’s slowly waking up, light spilling into your room.

what I love about the movie

Lucy herself is probably the best part of the movie. The list of reasons I have for loving her could go on and on but the biggest one has got to be because she has so much chemistry with everyone and everything. There is a scene where she was playing around with a sock hand puppet by herself and it’s way more interesting to watch than, like, 50 shades or something (shhh I know it’s a bad joke).

Another point I would love to add is that Lucy is very passionate. She has enough passion to fill the world’s void, probably. She loves art, she wants to open her own gallery, and that’s the goal she’s been actively working towards achieving for the past 8 years, maybe even her whole life. She sees art in everything, just like her mother, and even though she was fired from her job at the Woolf gallery, broken up with, and humiliated on the same night, she stands back up and in turn, turns her dream into reality (and arguably she helps quite a lot in making Nick’s dream come true as well).

Not only this but she really approaches everything in life with the same amount of passion. She sees a campaign collecting signatures and she stops to sign even though she was in a hurry, she sings with all her heart in karaoke (and also, does Dacre really suck that bad at singing or was he faking it?), she comes across an old sofa she loves and proceeds to carry it 40 blocks back to the Chloe Hotel on foot while wearing a stunning sundress. This woman is wonderful, a total blessing to all of us. Geraldine is such a talented actor and I hope to see her more in the future.

The special friendship Lucy’s trio has is absolutely amazing. Right from the get-go, we have an adorable scene of our friends group set 8 years before the main events of the movie. They were sorting through Lucy’s “cave of souvenirs” from old relationships. The three were already blooming with chemistry with their banters and snarky comments and I LOVE THEM because THEY’RE TOTALLY MY FRIENDSHIP GOAL!!

It’s so funny how despite being the best of friends, Nadine and Amanda are so different. It’s amazing how the snarky, sarcastic, lawyer-to-be Amanda with the weirdest taste in men ever and the loving, sensitive, fashionable stay-at-home model Nadine, whose list of girlfriends no one could ever keep track of, looked at each other and went, “Yep, that’s the one I’ll be attached at the hip with for the rest of my life” but I’ve got to say, great choice, the three of them. Lucy, Amanda, and Nadine’s energy fit together like pieces of Lego and they create such a piece of wild art. The foundation of their friendship must be very strong.

Despite their stark differences, they have an endless amount of unconditional support for each other. They might be unconventional, a bit crazy and otherworldly but the first thing these girls give each other is support and sympathy. You have an opinion? That’ll have to wait. Even when they give each other snarky comments, they know each other well enough to not get offended and to know that no harm is intended. I must say, from personal experience, this takes a very long time and a lot of understanding and trust to establish.

There’s this scene when Lucy tells her friends she and Max broke up and she was fired from her job, Nadine and Amanda instantly know what to do. They wrap her in a blanket, get her snacks and drinks, and sit next to her in a cuddle puddle. The scene is incredibly cute!! Literally friendship on another level. Top-tier besties.

The cool thing is, I think they know exactly how to care without crossing the line or trying to solve other people’s problems. For example, when Nick comes to their house to tell Lucy that he would stay away from the hotel on the night of the gallery opening due to the terrible fallout of the encounter with Chloe (his ex), Amanda and Nadine give him some (very comical) threats since he hurt Lucy’s feeling but they never try to actually stop Nick from seeing Lucy. I think they knew whatever was happening between the two of them, they needed to figure it out themselves. This detail is quite memorable to me because I realised I’m a bit too nosy for my own good sometimes (and I’m trying to work on it :D).

Lucy and Nick’s first encounter is nothing new in the world of romance. The trope generally goes like this: they accidentally run into each other after a bad day, one person (usually the female character) complains about her life to the other character and the other person (usually the male character) listens and adds comments here and there (though admittedly forcefully). I find this niche trope rather relatable for many reasons which deserve their own post but in this movie specifically, the scene is hilarious and adorable. Really though, I giggle throughout the entire movie because almost every scene is so lovely I want to die.

more details I love

I feel like Dacre’s American accent in this movie is kind of awkward 😆. He did great in Power Rangers and Stranger Things but then when he played Nick he was like, “Nick would be more funsies if his accent is a bit more artificial and Aussie than he’s supposed to be” and that’s adorable.

The shirt!

The gazillion weirdly relatable quotes

youtube

things I don't like

Of course, the movie is not perfect, no matter how much I wish it was. I really hate the Chloe plot. The entirety of it. What happened was that Lucy saw Nick and Chloe, Nick’s ex girlfriend and also the one whose name was on the door, go together after they had pretty much established that they were a thing. She appeared for 1 minute in total but was already established as a bad person (I am trying to be polite, okay?).

Nick using her name to name the hotel was, I guess, understandable. People are not smart when they’re in love, but the miscommunication drama was unnecessary. The reason why Nick did not tell Lucy it was his ex’s name on the door was apparently because he “didn’t know when and how”? That was a terrible reason given that they spent all their time together building the hotel and preparing for the exhibition, probably before they even developed romantic feelings for each other. Besides, everyone hates the miscommunication trope.

Personally, I don’t think Nick and Lucy have ✨the spark✨. Like, you know, the ✨tension✨ people have with the one they find sexually/romantically attractive? The one that we all insist exists between the characters in the non-canon ships we love? Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. I don’t know if it’s just me but when I look at them and their interactions, I see two very close friends who love each other endearingly in a capital-P Platonic way. They ⭐sparkle⭐ because of the joy of purely being in each other’s presence, the same way Lucy, Nadine, and Amanda do when they’re together, not the ✨sparkle✨ that would lead to two naked people in one bed, which was what wound up happening in the movie.

Still, I think this movie is a must-watch <3

#kass watches #the broken hearts gallery #romcom #dacre montgomery #geraldine viswanathan #movies #movie recommendation #movie review #must watch #watchlist

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