#shaggy? i have no words others than i love this version of him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampire-exgirlfriend · 2 years

Text

Morningstar

Pairing: vampire!Eddie Munson x femreader

Rating: E

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: smoking, blood, blood drinking, anxiety, negative self talk, smut (rough, oral - f receiving, semi public), violence.

A/N: again, working together is some weird goth symbiosis fever dream and i don't think we could have brought these two to life without each other. beta'd by @jadore-andor who talks Alex off the ledge regularly and does her best to wade through the horny weirdness we throw at her.

alex masterlist | emma masterlist| ao3

Part One | Part Two - How the Gods Kill | Part Three

You stretched luxuriously, loose-limbed and content in the gray predawn. Whatever dream you had been having must have been a good one; you felt flushed, tingling with some half-remembered pleasure. The comforter was warm, a welcome weight on your legs, though your upper body felt strangely chilled. You cracked an eyelid to see your t-shirt pushed up over your tits. Your nipples were peaked and at first you assumed it was simply because they were exposed but when you brushed an experimental finger over a rounded bud, it came away wet.

“Eddie,” you murmured, a sleepy grin stealing over your features.

It had been a week since you’d first brought him home from the woods. While Eddie was still hazy on the details of what had happened to him, he had told you about everything else: the hidden world beneath Hawkins, the truth about the deaths the town was still attempting to blame him for, the way he had fought and, ultimately, died to protect those same small-minded people. He told you about his friends and you didn't miss the way his eyes went glassy at the mention of Dustin Henderson, of dying in his arms.

You’d done your best to convince him to reach out to the people he loved to let them know he was alive.

“You’re a hero, Eddie. They’ll be too happy to see you to care about the rest of it.”

“You mean the whole me coming back as an undead freak? That rest of it?”

“You’re still you.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

He’d changed the subject then, a haunted look in his eyes. You sighed and kissed him, let him steer the conversation back towards your taste in music and what your life had been like after surviving high school. When he’d asked about college, you were the one to change the subject, tugging gently on his hair in the way you knew he liked and sliding into his lap. Both of you happily lost yourselves in each other’s arms as a Violent Femmes bootleg fuzzed and crackled in the background.

This wasn’t the first time he’d woken you up like this since then, but each morning he coaxed you awake with gentle fingers and his generous mouth managed to take you blissfully by surprise.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” The husked, gently mocking voice emanated from between your thighs. Eddie was sprawled there, a lazy smirk on his face and a playful look in his large brown eyes.

“You know, in some versions of that story, Sleeping Beauty is called Briar.” You spread your legs wider, your fingers already winding themselves in Eddie’s thick, shaggy hair. “You gonna save me from a dragon, Munson?”

He snorted and nipped teasingly at your thigh. “As if you couldn’t tame the dragon yourself.”

You smiled, pleased at being so known. “Maybe, but I wouldn’t mind you coming to rescue me, either.”

Eddie smiled at that, lips curving against silky skin before he soothed the nip with a kiss. “I’ll leave the rescuing to you. You’re better at it than I am.”

You opened your mouth to protest but then Eddie’s mouth was on you and the rest of the world slid away. He ate you slowly, lazily, not rushing or feeding, just dragging his tongue through your silky folds and suckling your clit until his face was wet with you.

“Taste so good,” he hummed, barely lifting his lips from your soaked cunt so his words rumbled against you. He pushed two thick fingers inside, smirking when you bucked your hips and ground down on his hand, already desperate for more. He indulged you, curling those clever guitarist’s fingers to drag against that sweet spot that made you moan. “Look so pretty, all mussed and sprawled out for me. You gonna come for me, Briar?”

You could barely speak, too full of him, too eager to feel him fucking you with his fingers and tongue. But you knew he wouldn’t let you off the hook until you squirmed a little.

“Eddie,” you mewled. Your voice was a broken, ragged thing, catching in your throat with a whine as you clutched at his hair. “Please, I’m so close. Make me come, Eddie, please please please. You’re so good at it.”

He chuckled. “Flattery works with me.” Without another word he buried his face in your slick pussy, kissing, licking and sucking while his fingers worked inside you, beckoning and insisting. Sweet tension built within you, your need for him a tightening coil in your belly. Your legs trembled and your back arched off the mattress, but Eddie held you firm, his hands wrapped around your thighs and his rings biting into your flesh. You leaned into his touch, eager for him to consume you.

“Tha’s it,” he slurred. “Come for me. I wanna feel it.”

Your release slammed into you. You weren’t even sure what you cried out in the end - Eddie’s name, garbled praise or pleas, or simply a wordless scream of pleasure. Whatever it was, you swam back to awareness as Eddie kissed his way slowly up your body.

“C’mere.” You dragged him up to your mouth for a grateful, filthy kiss, sucking the taste of yourself from his tongue - before pushing him back against the mattress and returning the favor.

—

The light closing of the door upstairs had Eddie sitting up in bed with a start, his breath catching as the blanket fell away from his bare chest. The right side of the bed was empty, still warm from where Briar had slept, and a note was left on the pillow.

Ran out for supplies. Apparently I can’t survive on sex and coffee alone. Who knew?

You looked too sweet to wake up.

Take care of Jonathan, I’ll be home soon.

Stay out of trouble!

XO - B

Home. It sounded nice, right?

He groaned, stretched, and eyed the weak stream of sunlight that still filtered through the curtains. Flipping on the lamp on the bedside table, Eddie glanced around the room. Jonathan jumped on the bed on silent paws, stomping all over Eddie’s lap and rubbing his head against his stomach.

“You’re about as needy as your mom, man,” he mumbled, scratching the little black cat's head. Jonathan just looked up at him with wide eyes and headbutted him square in the gut in obvious revenge for the needy comment. “Briar sure knows how to pick her strays, huh?”

Eddie pushed out of bed and toward the dresser, opening the second drawer and grabbing the first shirt he saw. He tugged the worn fabric over his head, looking down at the faded Cocteau Twins logo that stretched across the front. Of course Briar had cut it into a crop top, the hem laying just above his belly button. Whatever, it wasn’t like anyone was going to see him anyway. The farthest he’d been away from this basement, her little weird chick oasis, in the past few weeks had been to the backyard. Everything had been so crisp through his new eyes, the stars blooming brightly into tiny explosions in the night sky, the sounds of bugs and frogs in the creek beyond her house as loud as any concert. It had been disconcerting, almost overwhelming. But then she had pulled him over to the porch swing, straddled his lap, and placed her hands over his ears to mute the sound. In that moment she became his world, everything narrowing to the color of her eyes, the way the moon shone across her hair, the feel of her skin on his.

Pulling his hair up into a messy knot, he headed to the bathroom and took care of business. When he returned the sun had descended beyond the horizon, and he yanked the curtains open, watching the last rays of twilight pink bleed into the dark blue of night. His fingers curled around the Metallica tape that she had bought in hopes that he would find comfort in the familiar, and stuck it in the stereo. "Ride the Lightning" blasted from the speakers and Jonathan wound around his ankles. Eddie bent down and scooped the cat up by the belly, placing him on the high sill of the basement window.

“Come on, Barker, let's get a glimpse of the outside world,” he mouthed around the cigarette he’d dug out of the pack he kept in the bedside table drawer. Lighting a stick of incense and cracking the window, he sparked it, smoke blowing out in the yard beyond. Jonathan chirped at the bugs and the bats, his little chitters drawing a chuckle from Eddie’s mouth.

Five minutes turned into ten and then twenty and Eddie smashed the butt of his second cigarette, dropping it into the Coke can he’d set outside the window. “Okay, dude, make sure no invaders cross the threshold.” Jonathan just looked at him with bright eyes and a soft mrrrp before turning to look back at the yard.

Pushing to his feet, Eddie moved toward the bookshelf by the closet, running a finger over the cracked and worn spines. He loved how much she loved the worlds she fell into, loved to watch her read and lose herself in whatever story was currently keeping her up at night - or during the day, since she’d taken to matching their sleep schedules. He had just reached for her copy of "The Hobbit" when something caught his eye. A black hard case sat to the side of the shelf and he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed it before. Grabbing it, he crossed the room and flopped on the bed, throwing open the lid to reveal a well cared for acoustic guitar. It was an old Gibson Hummingbird, obviously secondhand, but there were no signs of recent use.

He did a happy little fist bump, exclaiming a muffled 'hell yeah’, before shutting off the stereo and pulling the instrument from its case. After tuning it, he strummed a few times thoughtfully before settling on a familiar rhythm that used to play through the trailer on Sunday mornings when Wayne was home, a rhythm that now felt so much more important since he'd met her. After clearing what felt like cobwebs from his throat, he sang softly.

"Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night

And wouldn't you love to love her?

Takes to the sky like a bird in flight

And who will be her lover?"

Jonathan jumped from the window, galloping over to hop up onto the bed beside Eddie and rub his little head against his bare knee. Eddie glanced down and made a face at the creature, scrunching his nose.

"All your life you've never seen a woman

Taken by the wind

Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

Will you ever win?"

Eddie dropped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He had missed playing. He had missed having something that he was good at, something he was comfortable with. He couldn’t remember the last time his mind had been this quiet, save for the times that he was inside her, wrapped around her. It had been weeks since he’d been able to shut out the near constant background noise that seemed to plague him during his waking hours. But the easy fingerpicking had it all fading away, just the strings and the rasp of his voice at the forefront.

"She is like a cat in the dark

And then she is the darkness

She rules her life like a fine skylark

And when the sky is starless

Once in a million years a lady like her rises

Oh no, Rhiannon, you cry, but she's gone

Your life knows no answer, your life knows no answer"

He didn’t hear the front door close, didn’t register the sound of her bare feet on the stairs that led down to the apartment.

"All your life you've never seen

A woman taken by the wind

Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

Will you ever win?

Rhiannon"

The bed dipped under her weight and Eddie started upright, nearly throwing the guitar. But she was smiling wide, her eyes sparkling as he watched him, and he couldn’t help but kiss her. Setting the guitar aside, he cradled her face in his hands and nipped at her bottom lip. Her hands came to rest over his and she leaned into him, deepening the kiss and sighing into his mouth. He groaned at the small sound, pulling her into his lap.

Nothing had ever been as sweet as Briar, his knight in shining armor.

—

“Where did you learn how to play?” The question pulled Eddie’s lips from yours as he gazed curiously down at you. He’d begged and pleaded and doe-eyed his way into you giving him a faltering rendition of “Bad Moon Rising,” after which he’d carefully set the guitar aside and kissed you breathless.

“College.” You shrugged, more interested in losing yourself in that kiss than talking about your time away.

Instead of leaning in, Eddie rocked back, a complicated look on his face. “Spring break should have ended already?”

“I guess?” Wherever this conversation was headed suddenly seemed a lot less fun and you shifted in his arms.

Eddie nodded slowly and pulled away, the sudden absence of his weight disconcerting. He moved to sit on the edge of your bed, his shoulders rounded and his head ducked. “So what happens now?”

“What do you mean?” You knew damn well what he meant and the hurt and irritation that flashed in his eyes told you Eddie did, too.

“You can’t hide me under your dorm bed, Briar.”

His tone stung and your defenses snapped sharply into place. “Then I guess it’s lucky for you I’m not going back.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, his hands raising in surrender. “Woah, hang on -“

You were already up and off the bed by the time he reached for you, too agitated to keep laying there. You needed to move. You crossed the room and picked idly at the boxes containing the remnants of your college life. Hastily rolled up posters still stained with blue tack were jumbled together with notebooks, pens, and the little figurines and tumbled crystals you’d used to decorate your desk.

'Might as well put them away now that you’re not going anywhere,' you thought bitterly.

“You can’t stay here because of me.”

“This isn’t because of you.”

“Bullshit. I won’t let you throw your life away for me. I’ll figure something out, leave town - “

You slammed a half-read psychology textbook down and rounded on him. “This isn’t about you, Eddie,” you hissed. Anger surged through you. Good. Better that than giving into the yawning pit of terror that kept you up at night. All those voices in your head whispering that you had failed, that you were nothing special, that maybe the only place you belonged was in this awful little town you couldn’t wait to flee.

Eddie blinked, finally registered the look on your face, and softened. “Did something… happen?”

Your throat burned. Fuck. Anything but this. You don’t want softness right now - you wanted to stay mad, keep fighting, anything other than letting the rest of your walls come crashing down. Even if it was to let Eddie in.

“Nothing happened,” you said, your voice tight. That was the problem, wasn’t it? You’d built college up into this nirvana, your own happy ending, telling yourself all through high school that all you needed to do was survive, get out, find your people. They would be waiting for you there - the other freaks and weirdos, the nerds, the music geeks and the theater kids. They’d be waiting to welcome you with open arms.

Wouldn’t they?

“I thought it would be different there. I thought I would be different there. And, yeah, fine, it was a little better than high school. Some of the classes were cool. There was more freedom. But it’s like everyone went to some mixer before I even got there and all the little cliques were just… full. No one needed me.” No one wanted you, that nasty voice whispered in your ear.

You paced, your hands bunched into fists by your side as you exhaled harshly. The feelings all came back, the anxiety and overwhelming notion of simply not being enough threatening to pull you under again.

“I just…I couldn’t be there anymore. Not for a single moment more,” you said quietly, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed and pick at a loose thread in the comforter. “It was too much and I just wasn’t enough.” Tears pricked at your eyes and you did your best to blink them away, staring intently at your chipped nail polish.

But then Eddie stood in front of you, looming over you as his hands came to cradle your jaw and tilt your face up to his. “You don’t need a degree to make you enough, or anyone else's opinion. It’s all bullshit in the end.” His thumbs brushed your cheeks sweetly and you swallowed back the lump of shame that burned in your throat. “You're more than enough, Briar. You're everything.”

When you met his eyes there was reverence there, shining back at you. “It was just so much easier when it didn’t feel so important, so lasting. College was my ticket out of Hawkins, and now here I am, back in my parents basement in the town I couldn’t wait to get away from.”

“That sounds like a pretty familiar story,” he said with a grin, settling his knees on either side of your thighs to straddle you. "86 was supposed to be my year," he said with a sad smile. Your hands found his hips, your fingers digging into the flesh there, your thumbs notching against the dip of bone and using his body as an anchor.

"Make me forget," you whispered against his mouth. "Let's both just forget."

He groaned, leaning forward and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. You sucked gently on his tongue before sweeping yours into his mouth and against the razor sharp point of his canine. Blood bloomed metallic and hot in your mouth and Eddie’s moan had you rolling your hips beneath him, luxuriating in the way he grew hard against your belly. He released his hold on your hair and his fingers found the hem of your t-shirt, dragging it over your head to throw it behind him.

His eyes rolled back when he found you bare beneath the thin fabric. “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re going to be the death of me.” You raised a brow at that, fighting back a smirk. Rolling his eyes, he reached forward and brushed his thumbs over your peaked nipples, catching your lips in another mind searing kiss. He reached over his head and pulled off his stolen shirt before he pressed you back into the pillows, dropping his weight on top of you and scraping his teeth gently over your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the notches of his spine. One hand skated down your belly, expert fingers parting your folds and playing at your clit. He worked you open with two fingers, stretching you as your back bowed off the mattress and your cunt clenched around him, pulling him deeper. His breath was cool against your cheek, his voice soft in your ear as he murmured, “I need to be inside you.”

You couldn’t do anything but moan, shoving at the waistband of his boxers and helping him to wriggle out of them. Without warning, he pushed inside of you, swallowing your groan and kissing you senseless. His thrusts were slow, deep, and even as he stretched you open. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to how full he made you feel, how your body had to adjust and mold around him. He rose up to his knees, resting his hands on your thighs and spreading them further, watching intently as he slid inside you only to return wet and glistening.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fangs catching on his lip. “You’re beautiful. Fucking perfect.”

You reached forward, tangling your fingers with his, and he brought your hand up to his mouth. His teeth scraped over the thin skin of your wrist and your back arched at the shock of pain you had come to anticipate, to enjoy. He sank his fangs in and you moaned, low and long, dropping your knees further apart. The dreamy haze that accompanied the feed settled over you and existence narrowed to the feeling of Eddie inside you, so thick and deep you thought you would break apart around him. But it wasn't enough.

You wriggled your hips beneath him, hissing when he broke away from your wrist. "What, baby?" He murmured, watching you from hooded eyes. You hooked an ankle around his waist and twisted, knocking him off balance. He dropped to the mattress and you scrambled on top of him.

"My turn, Munson."

Eddie's hands found your waist, his fingers flexing hard as you slid down his length. Your name fell from his lips as his head dropped back, the tendons in his neck prominent and his grip now bruising. "Jesus Christ," he muttered.

"No, just me," you teased, breathless as you rolled your hips and took him fully. You trailed your hands up your belly and between your breasts, leaving behind a red smear of your blood. Something snapped in Eddie then, something primal and ancient and terrifying. He sat up quickly, licking at the blood that was left behind from the wound on your wrist. His hand found your hair and he tugged hard, exposing your throat. You yelped in surprise but kept up your pace, held in check by the hand that now pressed at the small of your back.

"I think you were made for me, Briar," he groaned, his voice jagged as he scraped his fangs over your collarbone. More blood welled and he lapped at you with a greedy tongue, the rings digging into your back cold and grounding as he thrust up into you. A cry punched from your throat and you nearly went limp in his arms. His teeth sank into your neck and you whimpered, holding on tight, nails digging half moons in the pale flesh. "Say it," he growled. "Tell me you were made for me."

You moaned again as he snaked a hand between your bodies to rub quick circles against your clit. Stars began to burst behind your eyes. "Made for you…I was made for you, Eddie." His fingers sped up and you broke apart around him, clenching and pulling him deeper, crying his name. "Please."

He rolled you, dropping you back against the pillows. "Look at you," he growled. "Such a wreck." His thrusts slowed and he broke away from you, stroking his cock roughly and coming in thick ropes across your belly, the white of his cum mixing with the red of your blood. Trembling fingers swirled through the sticky mess as you fought to calm your racing heart.

Minutes ticked by and Eddie reached over to the side table, yanking tissues from the box and swiping them gently over the skin of your stomach.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his eyes scanning the marks that were now scattered over your body, bruises and broken skin in the shape of his mouth.

You reached up, trailing your fingertips over his jaw. "I'm not." Your voice was raw, stuck in your throat. "Come here." Shifting, you curled yourself around him, letting him cool you down and ease your breathing. "I have a pretty good idea of what I've gotten into with you, Eddie. I'm not afraid of you. I wasn't afraid in the woods, and I'm not now. I liked it."

He nodded, his chin dragging over the crown of your head. "Let me take care of you." His voice was soft, a little unsure, as he rolled you to your back. His lips were cool, pressing soft kisses to each mark he'd left behind, his fingers ghosting over the imprints of his teeth.

After a few quiet moments, he pushed out of bed, helping ease you to your feet. His eyes again darted over your body, taking an inventory. Suddenly, a grin pulled at his lips and he had you in his arms, tossing you over his shoulder and testing his new found strength. You squealed, pinching the meat of his ass.

"Eddie Munson, you put me down right now!" You shrieked.

"Or what, Briar?" He crossed the room in a few long strides, clearly headed for the shower.

"I'll bite you!"

"Do your worst."

—

“Eddie, wake up.” You’d tried to wait for him to wake on his own, really you had, but the sun had set ages ago. Eddie slept through you slipping out of bed, dressing in your favorite black lace dress, even sneaking out on a brief mission. He’d even slept through you “accidentally” banging around the hot plate as you made yourself tea. As adorable as he looked with his hair a dark cloud on the pillow and his face relaxed in rest, you were done waiting. When he didn’t respond to you calling his name again, you dragged your nails lightly along his side. A soft, questioning moan hummed in his throat as he shifted towards you, a smile tugging at his mouth as he laid his head against your lap and nuzzled your thigh.

“Hey, baby,” he mumbled. “‘s too early, come back to bed.”

“Come on, get up! I want to show you something.”

Eddie huffed out a breath, but when he saw the way you were practically bouncing on your heels, he eased out of bed with a stretch. The movement exposed even more of his bare midriff beneath his crop top and for a moment you were tempted to tackle him right back into the tangled sheets. He caught your expression and winked. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

After a slight delay (“Jesus, Eddie, you spend more time on your hair than I do”), the two of you were outside. The air was soft with spring, fresh with recent rain and green things breathing in the dark. Eddie looked expectantly around the yard, but you just took his hand and dragged him towards the treeline. You led him over a thin, familiar track, around the fallen logs and craggy rocks that had formed the landscape of your childhood fantasies, telling him the stories you’d made up about them along the way.

You turned a corner in the path and Eddie stilled beside you. He was seeing the same thing you were - a clearing ringed by candlelight, a slightly shabby patchwork quilt spread carefully over the ground, littered with throw pillows. A picnic basket stood amidst the sprawling roots of a nearby tree, cleverly concealed and packed with wine and snacks.

“You did all this? For me?”

“I figured we could both use a break from the basement. Get a little fresh air, maybe. Is this… okay?” You remembered how on edge he’d been that night in your backyard. “If it’s not, it’s fine, we can just - “

He stopped your mouth with a kiss, his fingers curled beneath your jaw. “It’s perfect.”

Something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about the moonlit surprise and sent a pleased thrill running up your spine. “Yeah?”

Yeah, Briar.” Eddie’s voice went thick, though his eyes never left yours. “Perfect.”

His lips brushed moth wing soft againsts yours and he pulled you down with him onto the worn quilt. You decided the wine could wait. Eddie kissed you beneath the stars, holding you carefully as if you were some delicate thing that would snap or flee beneath his touch. He tensed when a twig snapped somewhere beyond the glow cast by glass-jarred candles, but you cupped his cheek and said “It was probably just a deer." You brushed the hair from his eyes. "Then again, this is a picnic, if you want something to eat…?”

Eddie’s gaze snapped back to yours, the distraction already forgotten. “Well, if you’re offering.” The look he gave you was downright gleeful. He threw himself flat on his back and hauled you up to straddle his face in one smooth motion while you giggled and fought to steady yourself.

“That wasn’t what I meant!” His breath fanned against your bare thigh as his head vanished beneath your skirt. Warmth kindled low in your belly and you couldn’t help but spread your legs wider. For balance, you told yourself.

“Oh, so you don’t want me to eat you out until you can’t hold yourself up anymore?” His voice was muffled beneath the fabric.

“Hmm.” You pretended to give the question serious consideration. “Well, if you’re offering.”

“I’m definitely offering.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as his fingers pulled your panties to the side, his nose brushing feather light against your slit. He hummed, the sound closer to a growl, and licked a stripe up your center with a flat tongue. One hand tangled in the hair at the crown of his head, holding yourself steady as he spread you open, sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Christ, Eddie,” you groaned, barely resisting the urge to grind down against his face.

You felt a jerk against your hip that had you lurching forward, and then watched as a ringed hand flung the scrap of your underwear from under your skirt. Before you could laugh about it, two thick fingers pressed inside of you, curling forward and making you see stars. He laved wet kisses along your thigh and you felt the drag of his teeth just before they pierced the thin skin. You hissed, throwing your head back, unable to hold back the rough moan that clawed its way from your throat. Eddie slid his thumb over your clit, rubbing easy circles and pushing you closer and closer toward that edge.

That now familiar hypnotic pull from his mouth had you feeling everything all at once, and you couldn’t help but roll your hips, flexing your fingers in his hair. He groaned against your skin, the sound vibrating through you and your orgasm hit without warning, dragging you under deeper and deeper, heavy like melting honey and just as sweet.

Eddie pulled away from you with a sucking sound and you felt the warm trickle of your blood wind down your leg. His tongue followed the trail, rasping against your skin. Steadying hands found your waist and he helped you to sit beside him, smirking at the dazed smile that pulled at your mouth. He reached into the picnic basket, pulling out a tupperware you’d filled with fruit. When he found a slice of honeydew that met his apparently strict standards, he held it out to you, brushing your lips with his fingertips.

You leaned closer, pressing your mouth to his. “That was just the appetizer, right?” Your wandering hands skated under his shirt, dancing over the peaks and valleys of his abdomen and dipping lower toward his belt.

“Whatever you want, baby.” You felt his smile grow wider before he nuzzled his nose over your jaw.

Another twig snapped, closer this time. The crunching of leaves beneath heavy feet had Eddie pulling away roughly. More quickly than you could follow, he was sitting up and shoving you behind him, one strong arm held in front of your chest to keep you back.

“Eddie, what…” You were cut off by footsteps, loud and jarring in the otherwise quiet woods. A boy with a familiar face stepped from between the trees, a baseball bat leaning casually against his shoulder, a nasty smirk spread across his face.

“Well, well, well,” he started with a sneer. “What do we have here, boys?” A few other young men you recognized from town stood a few paces behind him, their eyes wide and their knuckles tight on weapons grabbed from garages and closets. Candlelight flickered over more baseball bats, golf clubs, even a few shotguns. Hatred twisted their familiar features into ghoulish mockeries of people you had grown up with, people you thought you knew. "I knew that was you, freak. Hiding out in the woods now? Like some animal?"

Your eyes narrowed at the ringleader, a boy you had taken a few classes with the year prior. “Chance, what are you doing?”

“Cut the shit,” he snarled, his cold eyes landing on you. “Don’t act like you have no idea what this freak did to Chrissy and Patrick.”

“Eddie didn’t do anything to anyone.” You got to your knees, pressing forward against the bar of Eddie’s arm. Anger burned hot in your gut, slowly replacing your earlier fear. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What I know is that we stumbled on a monster in the woods with his whore. Is that what you are now? Eddie Munson’s whore?” Chance was sneering, the light from the candles casting shadows over his face, turning him into something from a nightmare. “You’ve always been a nice girl, even if you are a little weird. Just come on with us and you won’t have to watch.”

“I have no idea what you think you know, Chance, but whatever it is, it’s not true. You don’t understand.” You tried to keep your voice even but you were growing desperate, *needing* them to understand, to back off. “He’s not what you think. Eddie didn't do anything.”

“Briar, don’t. Just run.” Eddie turned to you, his eyes wild. He’d growled low in his throat when Chance insulted you but now his voice is soft, pleading with you to leave him behind and stay out of trouble. As if he still doesn’t think he’s worth that trouble after everything. As if he isn’t worth a hundred of the cowards ready to tear him down. You squeezed his hand and shrugged out of his hold. You knew these people, maybe you could make them stop and just listen.

They didn’t give you the chance.

The instant you stepped from Eddie’s side, they lunged. You gouged rough furrows in the dirt as they hauled you kicking and screaming across the clearing. Their hands were rough on your shoulders, their ears deaf to your protests as you thrashed against their hold. The small crowd cheered, buoyed by the thought that they’d saved you despite your frantic efforts to get free of them.

“Briar!” Eddie only managed a step towards you before three men tackled him, armed with what looked like winter tire chains. He barely seemed to notice, too desperate to get to you. When one of the men holding you grew impatient with your struggling and slammed you against a tree, Eddie’s control snapped.

“Let. Her. Go.” His bestial growl, so different from any sound you’d heard from him before, turned all heads towards him. But it was the way he tossed those boys off him like they weighed nothing, the black ringing his irises and the moonlight glinting off his bared fangs that shocked them into silence.

You actually felt your blood run cold at the sight. They were already riled to the edge of stupidity, but this “proof” of Eddie’s monstrosity would only cement their righteous fury.

They’d kill him.

You wouldn’t let them.

With all their focus pulled to him, you twisted out of your captor’s grasp, slamming a boot heel into the joint of his ankle, and sprinted toward Eddie. At the same instant, Chance raised his fist. You flung yourself between them and the blow fell against your back instead.

You barely registered it, too relieved to feel Eddie’s leather jacket beneath your fingers, creaking as you clenched your hands into fists. You looked up into his wide eyes and smiled to see the familiar brown bleeding back into them, chasing away the black.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “I’m not going to let them take you away from me.”

Something was wrong, your legs not cooperating as you tried to straighten up. Your knees trembled and your weight sagged in Eddie’s arms, the shouting of the mob ebbing and flowing as the world began to go fuzzy around the edges.

"Fucking stabbed her!”

"What the hell is wrong with you?”

Eddie stared down at you with wide eyes, his normally steady hands trembling as he ghosted his fingers over your cheek. He sank to his knees, cradling you in his arms. “Baby, talk to me. Okay? Are you okay?” Suddenly he sounded so far away.

"We gotta get outta here, man.”

"I didn’t sign up for this shit, Chance.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, your speech slurred. “I’m fine.” You reached up, pulling a lock of his hair between your fingers. It was so pretty in the remaining light of the candles, honey and chestnut woven together. The taste of pennies bloomed hot in your mouth and you coughed around it, red splashing over Eddie’s ashen face.

He pulled back, looking down at the blood that now coated his shirt, and a noise somewhere between a wail and a roar tore from his throat. “Briar? No, no, no. Come on, baby.”

You felt like you were underwater, heavy and light, old and new, the pain that had exploded through your back ebbing like waves at the shore. “I’m right here,” you tried to say. But you were so damn tired, fighting just to keep your eyes open and focused on him. The space between blinks became longer, the dark harder to fight off each time you tried to open your eyes. Something wet touched your mouth and on instinct you pulled away. But Eddie’s grasp on the back of your head was too strong.

“I need you to open your mouth, okay? Remember what you read to me? Please, baby, you have to try.” He sounded frantic and you hated that you couldn’t help him, stuck somewhere in your own mind, your body suddenly useless. You cracked your eyes open to find streaks of red carving a trail down his face, his mouth smeared with blood, his lower lip quivering. “Please?”

You tried, barely able to move as the gray on the edges of your vision melted into black.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #vampire eddie munson #joseph quinn #morningstar #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #my fic

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sebastian-lerm-scoop · 1 year

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In advent of how shitty the velma series turned out to be here's my pitch for a hopefully better take on an adult Scooby-Doo show. First thing it would be set a bit further back than the original show. Specifically in the sixties, but a more realistic version of the sixties with plenty of opportunities to demonstrate race and civil rights issues. Now that we have the setting let's go down the list of characters!

•Shaggy: He would be like an actual stoner not just implied. He would smoke weed often and get the munchies from it. Now here's my spin on his character. Shaggy would be a VERY good martial artist. This is obviously in refrence to the UI Shaggy meme, but it goes deeper than that. Shaggy's father would be a WWII vet who after coming home from Japan opened up his own dojo which was a commonplace thing at that time. He would then teach Shaggy some form of martial arts and Shaggy would EXCEL at them. However to not alter Shaggy's character too drastically he would be fearless around people but EXTREMELY scared of ghosts like the good old shaggy we know and love. I also think he would be into comic books and The Beatles.

•Fred: My concept of Fred has him as a really gifted mechanical engineer that comes from a rich family. Why is his family rich you ask? Well his father would be a popular conservative politician with some pretty harmful worldviews. Keep in mind this is the sixties. Fred would be very opposed to his fathers politics and actually be a pretty active civil rights protester much to his father's dismay. Fred's father would want Fred to follow in his footsteps and get into politics, but Fred wants to be an engineer as previously stated. I think Fred would enjoy working on the mystery machine as well given his enjoyment of machinery. Fred I think would like to build Rube Goldberg machines mainly as complex mouse traps or something of the like. His father would hate this of course. Also since this would be an adult show Fred could say fuck.

•Daphne: Daphne would grow up on a farm. Her parents and grandparents and so on would be a long line of farmers. Daphne isn't at all interested in this though. She really enjoys fashion, art, and poetry. Similar to Fred I think she would be an activist as well. That could actually be how they meet. She would also be pretty into history and things of that nature. I feel like that interest would tie well into her enjoyment of different kinds of art. I think she would aspire to be a musician not only to further her love of art and poetry, but to also spread positive messages to as many people as she can. Her family would also be very conservative but in a contrasting way to Fred's parents. While Fred's father would be pretty hateful and deliberately manipulative in nature being a politician and all, I think Daphne's parents would more represent the ignorance and blind fear of those different than them. I feel like Daphne aspiring to be more knowledgeable about the word around her would put her at odds with her family often.

•Velma: Velma would be a pretty shy and often bullied person. I feel like Shaggy would fight off her bullies for her at times. She would have pretty bad social anxiety but would begin to open up around her friends. The main thing I would add to her character would be to make her a closeted lesbian which in the sixties I imagine was excruciating. She would take to books and liturature as a way to cope. Namely mysteries like Sherlock Holmes, Nancy Drew, and the Hardy Boys. To add on to her daily stress her parents would be VERY Christian and while not being as overtly bigoted as some of the other gang's parents they would definitely be judgy to those they deem different. Velma would want to be a private investigator (which she would get the chance at when the gang starts solving mysteries). I imagine her parents would have been supportive of her dream if they didn't want her to be a traditional wife and settle down with a man. "Leave the mysteries to the men :)" ugh I can FEEL the patronizing tone.

•Scooby-Doo: At last we have Scooby. Now the big thing about good ol Scoob is that he's a talking dog. How would I make that work within this setting? Well I would make him a ghost of course! Not just any ghost however he would be a Yokai. I feel like the fact that Scooby is a Yokai would be hidden to Shaggy and maybe even Scoob himself. I could see this being an end of season reveal. I think the kind of Yokai that fits the best is one known as the Inugami. Inugami are said to be essentially familiars for a person or family heres an excerpt from Yokai.com "Inugami serve their masters loyally, performing tasks just like a faithful dog. They are loyal to one person or one family only, and unless seriously mistreated they remain loyal forever; these spirits can be passed down from generation to generation like an heirloom." Now doesn't that sound familiar? (Pun intended). Now I imagine Shaggy's father could potentially have married or remarried a Japanese woman and this woman would have the Yokai Scooby-Doo protecting her family. Now Scooby loyally protects Shaggy. Sticking with him through thick and thin! What a good boy.

Well theres my weird and wacky ideas for a (maybe) better adult Scooby-Doo show. Let me know what you think or if you have something to add. It is a bit goofy but hey so is Scooby-Doo! See ya.

#scooby doo #scooby gang #shaggy rogers #fred jones #velma dinkley #daphne blake #lesbian velma #velma the series #ultra instinct shaggy #this post is way too long #scooby doo au #scooby au

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bearmemesreviews · 20 days

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FotW: SDMI - The Shrieking Madness

As you can tell by our episode's title, today Mystery Incorporated tackles the Chthulu mythos! Gotta love those weird ugly squid gods, and the fact that their writer chickened out when it came to describing them only adds to their charm. Everyone loves designing creatures that can "break" the mind of anyone who looks at it directly.

Scooby-Doo was neither the first nor the last children's show to tackle this topic, but MI is our first real representation of it for the franchise. Let's talk about it and the gang's first college tour.

Backstory: The gang are all driven to the Darrow University by their parents whose motives are far different from their children's. Meanwhile, the college is playing host to two popular writers who couldn't be any more different. Harlan Ellison is a no-nonsense tightwad whose work is more "respectable" than the cosmic horror tales written by H.P. Hatecraft - this universe's version of our H.P.

One of Ellison's fans disparages the works of Hatecraft, and is swiftly attacked and kidnapped by the main villain of those stories. The gang mostly stumbles into this mystery by accident, preoccupied by their early brushes with college life. Daphne becomes a communist, Fred is put through homoerotic hazing, and Shaggy points out that he's no longer voiced by a vegetarian in a very unsubtle way.

Velma is the one who actually came to meet Ellison at a book signing, and the gang soon cross each other's paths before finding Ellison being terrorized by green Squidward.

The gang still have their hang-ups, much more strained thanks to everyone's love troubles. They even get distracted from the mystery thanks to their previous college antics, until Char Gar Gothakon attacks Shag and Scoob directly. When the gang confronts Hatecraft, he first gives them the "whispers from another world that I translate into the best-selling written word" spiel. However, to dispel the beast he decides to reveal to an entire class of people the truth.

He made it all up, there is no dark force from an alternate dimension giving him material to write. This upsets his number one fan, but that pales in comparison to how badly Charizard Gengar Gothita takes the news. The Gangrene Illithid kidnaps his creator and takes him back to Hateman's house, which is also where the Ellison fan was being kept prisoner in.

Chary Gary becomes another attempted murderer, deciding that Hatecraft deserved an appointment with the ground after a trip to the roof. The gang distracts the monster long enough to save both Hatecraft, and Char Gar Gothakon, when they nearly fall off the roof. They finally muzzled his tentacles, a trick Fred learned from his college buddies, solving the mystery you already did several minutes ago.

Design: Char Gar Gothakon is a humanoid octopus-human hybrid wearing cultish robes, obviously based on Chthulu and Illithids from D&D. Octopus-faced monsters are just awesome, with the sea creature they're based on already being some of the coolest things on our planet. Did you know all of them are venomous, and some of the best hunter-killers in the sea? They're like wolves in that way, creatures we can both hype up as supernatural omens of death and real-life predators you don't mess with.

Char Gar Gothakon: The Beast with no name, is rather lanky despite how stocky its wearer is. It has diamond-shaped eyes with orange irises and yellow sclera and pupils. It has a globular smooth head and wriggling tentacles encompassing most of its lower face. It's body, especially its "forehead", is covered in skin patterns resembling green splotches like the markings of a frog. It also has small siphons, two on each side of its head, in place of ears. Another easy to miss detail are the gillman-like fins on its forearms.

Its outfit is rather flamboyant, resembling a priest's dressing with a turned-up high collar that's too large for its already giant head. Its shoulder pads are gigantic and connected to the rest of the outfit by the belt. It's belt and bicep bracelets are all gold.

It doesn't even wear a shirt, the middle piece of its outfit being mostly made-up of intersecting strips that expose its shoulders, ribs, and V-line.

Honestly, it's a pretty slutty costume. Besides it's vertical striped long skirt it also wears fingerless, elbow length gloves that also has gaps to exposed MORE of its skin.

For powers, it uses a sonic screech that's powerful enough to Lauch a grown man onto a car's hood. Its face tentacles can also stretch out, revealing a large circular maw full of sharp teeth underneath, to entangle a victim. The tentacles also stretch and contort in a way that shouldn't even be physically possible since they were taken from a real dead octopus.

Reveal: The true culprit turns out to be Hatecraft's own superfan and student assistant, Howard E. Roberts (named after Robert E. Howard). He decided to bring Hatecraft's monster to life to get back at the haters. However, when Hatecraft declared himself a fraud the superfan decided that the author needed to be destroyed. He made his sonic death blast technology with the help of his college courses by the way.

It is actually through deriding their fans that Ellison and Hatecraft actual find companionship, leaving the gang to discover the archived documents stolen by Mr. E left in the Mystery Machine.

The plot thickens.

5/5, Western Media needs more Mindflayer rep. Nice Gregorian Chants by the way.

See, you can talk about Lovecraft without mentioned his cat being named N-Word.

#bmoreviews #scooby doo #scooby doo mystery incorporated #bmoreviewsmysteryinc #mystery incorporated #illithid #chthulu #char gar gothakon

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let-us-meet-aga1n · 1 year

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--tc challenge 20-26

do you feel guilty about having feelings for your tc? yes, actually. i feel so horrible because she has to deal with my attachment issues which are quite sporadic at times. one day, i'm talking to her normally and then the next i'm sprinting away from her (i actually timed it i ran 80 ish meters in 9 seconds when i saw her once i'm)

are you insecure about them liking another student more than you? HELL TO THE YES. i may or may not have a list of students i want to violently take out but can't because they spend so much time with her when i want to be the only one she ever loves. i mean, what? who said that? not me-

what kind of hairstyle would you love to see them in? PONYTAIL PONYTAIL PONYTAIL- she always has her hair down (because its VVVVV CURLY (like 3a kinda way)) and i'd love to see her hair in a ponytail because ITS SO PRETTY AUGH-

do you think they trust you? maybe? yes? no? i don't know- i trust her a shit ton though. i'd trust her with my life. she could tell me if i walked into fire it wouldn't hurt and i'd believe her.

what's the most comedic moment that's occurred between you two? oh my god, this one's embarrassing- i feel like my life is just a twisted sitcom when i'm around her. i tried to ask her to one of my earlier orchestra concerts and i asked, but... no words came out?? like, i just mouthed the words and she stared at me like i was crazy. i just walked out of her room defeated and we haven't spoken about that since. it was so embarrassing... i wish i never did that (my father figure teacher asked her to that one concert that i posted about because i told him about this and he was like "okay yeah i'll do it")

have you ever drawn them or written about them to vent your feelings? BOTH. this is actually how i got the name clover for her! i draw these lil cats everywhere and i decided to make one based off of her and me. i was a shaggy calico named drizzle who's always breaking down, and she's this fluffy ginger cat (with glasses and a book on her head (because english you know?)) that i named clover! i named her clover originally because she always wrote to me in green, with green paper, and green... everything. so i found the name because i wanted a green name. also, clover just fit because she's like 1 in a million so i'm lucky to have found her.

how do you feel when you're around them? are you so nervous that you can't concentrate, or do you just feel happy that you get to spend time with them? depends on the day. sometimes, i'm shaking and crying and panicking because i either feel like she hates me or want her to approve of me so badly that i just lose it?? others i'm all smiles and giggly- i think she likes that version of me better because she always tries to pick up the pieces on bad days (spoiler: it doesn't end well for either of us) you can see the former bad day posts on here because i post in her class all the time.

#tc blog #tcc tumblr #tc community #tccblr #tcc thoughts #tcc feelings #tcc struggles #female tc #platonic teacher crush #platonic tc #tc post #teacher attachment #teacher cc #teacher crush #female teacher crush #☘️.pdf

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totallyexhausted · 1 year

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Because I’ve hit a small writer’s block; here is a snippet of Trigun

Trigun sickfic snippet - Wolfwood sick. I’m currently on 28 pages (I know, I need to wrap it up) and have hit a writer’s block for about a day soooooooooooooooo maybe posting something will get me back into it. I have the draft outlined and know where I’m going with it but *shrugs shoulders* (This snippet doesn’t detail anything and I’m not saying where it goes as far as his “sick” timeline). But i love Vash being Vash, and Wolfwood being Wolfwood... who am i kidding, i love all the characters. Especially shaggy hair and emo priest

Keep in mind, my SFs are kind graphic as far as description, self-reflection, cursing, yada yada but the snippet doesn’t have any depictions of vomit. Also in my version, Wolfwood has scars from his abusive childhood (canon), several from the experiments and other “wounds” because he can heal if he drinks the blue liquid, but most of the scars remain because i love to torture this man. Also, his age is a running joke. :)

Idk man, lmk if you’re interested. I’m trying lol

...

...Meryl made a small noise of discomfort, her fingers gripping the back of her seat nervously as she looked between Vash, Wolfwood, and Roberto. She bites her bottom lip, pressing her fingers tighter against the cushioned material, shivering slightly as the cold air pricked her skin. She hums anxiously, “Hm. I really think we should drive on. The town could have a doctor… I think he really needs-”

“We’ll see how he is when we reach the next town,” Roberto cuts her off gruffly, “See how he is in the next few hours. But I’m not really sure if a doctor would be able to help much. You see those scars? Something tells me our conman here isn’t exactly normal in the human department.”

Meryl grumbles slightly as she turns back towards Wolfwood cradled protectively against Vash’s chest. She wants to roll her eyes, to tell Roberto he’s wrong, to ignore him like she normally does; she wants to turn around, start the car and plow through the fucking dark desert in order to reach the next town. Because she’s pretty sure Wolfwood’s dying. Or at least, he looks like he’s dying as sweat pales down his face, glistening sharply in the moonlight; his breathing sporadic and uneven, heaved against his chest, through a half-open mouth, and every sound grated past his chapped lips, feels heavy in her ears.

She bites her bottom lip again, clutching her fingers against the chair. Wolfwood looked so small in Vash’s arms. Childish. Innocent. Wrong. She hadn’t heard him mutter a word, choke out an intimidatingly friendly insult or reach for a crumpled cigarette, since this afternoon. But that had been several hours ago. Several long hours. And she wasn’t really sure the meds they’d managed to get into him would help much... would help the way a doctor could. But despite ignoring almost every other order Roberto had ever given her, she was too afraid to disobey now. She was too afraid he was right. After all, the older man seemed much calmer in this type of situation than she was, than she felt.

Besides, the older man was right; the several scars she could make out lined beneath the top two buttons Roberto had undone in hopes to reduce some of the heat sitting on the gunman’s skin, looked anything but normal. Looked like Wolfwood had gone through something… something a normal person couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Something traumatic. Horrifying. Painful. I grew up in an orphanage… I lost my parents at a young age too. Wolfwood’s words hadn’t meant much to her, but thinking about them now, hearing them echo over their first meeting, sent chills down her spine as she continued to stare. Small dark lines from previous wounds painted against tan sweaty flesh. And that was just from the several she could see, sweating against the moonlight and dim lighting from the cabin’s shitty overhead light… there was no telling how many more he actually had....

.....

I’m hoping to post soon because like ughhhhh

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good-realtor-bad-realtor-dynamic · 1 year

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This was sitting in my drafts and I'm cleaning up, so here goes:

Since Glenn is on this new show, I reckoned he would have to do interviews, so I did some digging because I'm so normal about him.

He was on a panel at New York Comic Con back in October. Here's the rundown of the Glenn content (not in chronological order):

youtube

GLENNTENT

Glenn signed on to the Velma show because "the people on stage were involved". The people on stage are EPs and cast, viz. Mindy Kaling, Charlie Grandy, Sam Richardson, Constance Wu.

Charlie Grandy had suggested Glenn for Fred because they were looking for a comedy actor with great humanity.

All the writers on The Mindy Project were obsessed with Sunny, especially Glenn as Dennis, which is why they had him on TMP to play Cliff Gilbert the lawyer and wrote him as a "normal" guy.

I couldn't quite pinpoint the timeline in the development process when the cast got involved because the character designs are clearly based on them, but it was unclear if they had the opportunity to read the whole pilot script when they came on.

Sounds like the cast went onboard based on MK and CG being successful writers and producers (can't fully confirm this)

Glenn did not know Fred is pre-pubescent (revealed in episode 1) until he read the pilot which seems to have happened some time after he was pitched the role and possibly after casting.

He used to do a "whiny spoilt teenage boy complaining to his mother" voice with his friends as a funny bit. He tried that voice here half-thinking he'd be stopped because it sounds nothing like the original Fred and perhaps a bit strange, but when nobody stopped him, he just ran with it.

When asked about playing these types of entitled white guys more than once and also if he was into Fred driving a "weird sex van": NO! He's actually uncomfortable with how almost every character he plays seems to be a variation on this.

Says he keeps doing it probably because it appeals to his sense of humour, but he also doesn't know why he does it. Admits maybe a small dark part of him can relate to these characters.

Glenn said the cast didn't get to see the final show until much later because they were all off in their own separate covid bubbles working on other shows (Sunny, AP Bio, etc.) when they did Velma

Glenn used to watch the original series as a kid.

He was more of a Shaggy than a Fred as a teenager. He had long curly hair and wore birkenstocks and Grateful Dead tshirts. Smoked a lot of week. Ate a lot of hoagies (is that the right word?). And Sam (Shaggy) was more of a Fred.

Moderator asked if there would be Velma/Daphne and Shaggy/Fred. They didn't say no!

Since I'm already going, here's some more stuff on the development and writing of the Velma show for context:

Development

The creator and showrunner is not actually Mindy Kaling but Charlie Grandy, the dude on the right, who wrote on SNL, The Daily Show, The Office, The Mindy Project and many of her other shows, and has been her collaborator since 2008

Charlie and Mindy started working on the show and pitching to Warner Brothers before the pandemic around 3+ years ago

Part of their pitch was "a love quadrangle", possibly influenced by various teen dramas currently on air

WB didn't give them the rights to the Scooby Doo character!

They didn't get into serious development until quarantine and mostly worked over Zoom

After lockdown, only animated shows were possible, so Mindy wasn't busy with Sex Lives of College Girls anymore

Unusually for animation, the characters designs weren't already done yet by the time the writers got involved, so they got to be involved in the process to choose art styles

With the art, they were going for something between classic Hanna-Barbera and modern cartoons with designs ranging from comedy to horror

None of the characters felt tied to whiteness except Fred

Writing

The show is a prequel that will track the characters as they grow into the classic versions of themselves, so like Norville -> Shaggy

The show will have an underlying mystery over the course of the season balanced with a series of shorter arcs

The EPs were influenced by Harley Quinn, Rick and Morty, Spiderverse and Riverdale

The writers talked about Riverdale in the room quite a lot... errr…

Parents, their impact on their kids and family life were fleshed out because those are big themes in modern teen dramas

Charlie hired a diverse young writing staff to help make Indian Velma and her family feel more authentically written

The writers had some trouble because they wrote some of the scripts a while ago not realizing that animation would take so long that some of the jokes would be out of date

They sort of avoided that problem by having Velma and Daphne be obsessed with pop culture like previous Mindy characters.

Velma does make references but has more blindspots than previous Mindy characters

Velma was moulded to be a typical Mindy underdog character

Daphne is more pop culture savvy than her.

Cast

Table read of the pilot was done on Zoom during lockdown.

In fact, it sounds like the whole thing was done quite some time ago in the pandemic.

Scooby was deemed safe enough for Mindy to watch when she was growing up and she latched on to Velma's intelligence as a kid

The cast all said the scripts were funny and that they were happy with how the episodes turned out, especially from a comedy pov.

Constance and Mindy said it was nice to see the characters have chemistry even though the actors did their table-reads and voice acting remotely and/or separately.**

Mindy and Constance didn't do voices for the characters because they already sound young.

NYCC 2022 was the first time any of the cast met in-person post-pandemic.

** Didn't Glenn say on one of the earlier zoom episodes of the Sunny Podcast that he got sent over all sorts of audio equipment during the pandemic for work reasons? I'm wondering if it was for this show.

I couldn't quite put together a timeline or ordering of casting, scripting, character designing and voice acting in reference to each other :(

#it's not like i'm doing this to avoid my irl problems #fred #velma hbo max #glenn howerton #panel interview #sur #sur rambles

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spongeaddict · 9 months

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For the author asks: 28, 31, 37?

YAY thank you! :)

28: How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

The great thing about being in such a niche community like the world of Scooby Doo fanfiction is that there's really not that much pressure! I have gotten a few comments in the past that say things like "please update," which honestly, makes me feel good. It says to me that people like what I'm writing and want more of it. I don't give myself hard deadlines unless I'm confident that I'll be able to keep it (you may remember in the past I would say "updates coming in the new year!" or "check back this spring for more info!" as a way to give myself some wiggle room.) As for negative comments, not everyone is going to like everything, and I know I can't please everyone. The negative comments will of course hurt my feelings, but that's why the positive comments are so great! If I'm feeling down about my writing, I can look back on other comments or reviews that have kind words. So make sure to tell your favorite writers that you like their work!

31: Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Of course I have a soft spot for everyone in the gang and there are certain things about writing for them all that I really do love and appreciate. I would say my favorite to write for though is Shaggy. I find his character so interesting. If he's so scared all the time, why does he still solve spooky mysteries with his friends? What motivates him to stay with the gang despite all that? I love exploring these questions through my fanfics. :) This isn't part of the question, but for a long time the hardest characters for me to write were Fred and Daphne and I have NO IDEA WHY. And EVERYBODY wants Fraphne content, so I had to learn how to write for them real fast. I think I'm much better at writing for them now than I was when I first started, and I like to challenge myself sometimes by writing scenes for them. So I guess that's how my writing has been swayed by readers' reactions! People said "GIVE US FRAPHNE!" and I tried my best to deliver. :)

37: Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

I have the first drafts of chapters 1-10 written for my current WIP, "Scooby Doo and the Book of the Dead," and I'm currently working on chapter 11! I think I'm on track to write 18 chapters for this one, depending on how long or short the chapters end up being. I'll start posting on Wednesdays in September, so keep your eyes peeled for that! Also, if you're looking for content to consume in the meantime that might make your reading experience better, I would recommend watching (or re-watching) "Scooby Doo and the Witch's Ghost," and reading (or watching the film version of) the "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark" books by Alvin Schwartz. Just a thought. ;)

Thanks for the questions! Keep the asks coming!!!

#ask spongeaddict #scooby doo fanfiction

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laplupludetuvida · 2 years

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Me: yeah when i was little i liked scooby doo a normal amount

You tube, totally out of nowhere: Mystery Incorporated| Pilot episode "Welcome to Coolsville"

Me: WHAT? NOW?? HOW DID I FORGOT ABOUT THIS, I-

#i loved it my god #two years ago I subscribed to the channel because the trailer was great #and yesterday the first chapter came out and I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT THAT #they have a real dog to play Scooby #it is made with so much LOVE #the references #the gang #the HEX GIRLS IN THE VERY FIRST CHAPTER #as always shaggy and scooby had become my faves #velma? love her #fred? angsty boy #daphne? a damn queen #shaggy? i have no words others than i love this version of him #scooby doo #shaggy rogers #fred jones #daphne blake #velma dinkley #a live action made by fans and for the fans

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myfictionaldreams · 2 years

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Traitor’s daughter // Remus Lupin & Peters!daughter

Summary: Remus adopted you after your father Peter was killed by Sirius Black. How will you react when you find out the truth of what happened on that night many years ago?

For: @silverose365 (thank you so much for another request! ♥)

Tags: angst, fluff, anxiety, crying, self doubt, adoptive dad remus, reader is peters daughter, dog sirius black

Word: 2k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Smiling, you savored the warmth of the cup of tea in your palms, looking across to the man you considered your father as he drank his own tea, smiling just as warmly back to you. “I’m glad you stopped the boggart class when you did Pops, I don’t think I would have liked to see what mine shifted into.” Leaning forward you once again lifted your own cup to your lips, the honey tea warming your throat as Remus placed his on the table, grasping his hands together.

“It might do you well to face your fears, little one.”

“I know, but I see enough posters of him around, I’d hardly like to see a full-sized version of him”, Remus nodded his head knowingly, not surprised that your biggest fear was the lunatic who had escaped from Azkaban and had murdered your real father, Peter. You’d grown up with stories of the marauders, your father talking adoringly about the group, including Sirius, this only helped to escalate the anger and fear you felt for the man that betrayed them all. “Can we talk about something else please?” you asked, regretting bringing up the subject with Sirius’ face flashing through your mind.

Taking a deep breath, Remus studied you, especially the tired expression you held as you continued to drink your tea. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the pack of foil and held it across to you, “eat some of this.” Frowning you reached to take the chocolate from him, snapping off a block. “Have all of it. You’re looking tired love, have you been having nightmares again?”

You shouldn’t have been shocked that he would notice your tiredness. “I haven’t been having nightmares, Pops. I’ve just been studying a lot, that's all, I really want to get good grades this year, especially with you being here.” Starting to eat the chocolate, you felt warmth spread through your chest as you avoided looking your adopted father in the eye. The sound of clothes shuffling had you looking up however as the Professor stood from his office chair, and walked around his desk until he was beside you. Looking up into his kind eyes, he signaled for you to stand, of which you did, and he pulled you into a hug, your head resting on his chest, his tweed jacket scratching your cheek as his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

Remus leaned down and kissed the top of your head, his chest vibrating as he said, “I’ve only ever heard other teachers singing your praises, you’re doing amazing little one, I’m so proud of you and I know Peter would be as well. But, please, get some rest.”

Smiling, you held him tighter, “thank you pops and I’ll try too.”

Stepping back, you looked up at the kind face, his hard cupping your cheek as he said, “And promise me you’ll spend some time outside, you can’t spend your whole year in the library.” You nodded your head in agreement as the school bell sounded for the beginning of the next lesson.

As the months drifted by, more sightings of Sirius Black were reported, inching closer to Hogwarts and putting you on edge, so much so you spent nearly all day, every day in the Library. It was a place where there were always other students and teachers around, but other than being in the library, you tried to go for a daily walk through the grounds, avoiding any areas as to which the dementors were roaming. It was mid-autumn when you made a little friend, you were just passing the lake when you heard the pitter-patter of paws on the gravel and found a black shaggy-haired dog behind you. At first, you were wary of the dog, confused as to why one of Hagrid’s pets were out by itself and looking so thin, but every day it found you and walked silently beside you and you became thankful for the company, even starting to bring it food to help fatten him up. You’d named him Snuffles and he was the perfect distraction for you and the real world, even though he never responded he listened to you rant, day after day, never leaving your side until you left to return back to the library, forgetting momentarily about the madman on the loose. That was until, you woke to a scream coming from the common room and Sirius Black’s name came shouting up to you and you’d never been so scared before, it took hours before you could stop shaking. Since then you hardly slept, even with Remus spending hours trying to convince you to get some rest, loading up your bedside table with an obscene amount of chocolate.

It all came down to one Thursday morning, waking from a pitiful's night sleep, and spotted Hermione walking through the dormitory door in jeans and a hoodie, covered in mud and scratches. Sitting up suddenly, she jumped as you asked in a rush, “what happened to you?” It took her a moment to come to her senses before she rushed to your side and started speaking incredibly fast about everything that had occurred during that night. She told you about Ron being dragged through to the shrieking shack, it is exposed that Sirius Black was an animagus that shifted into a black dog, one you instantly knew had been Snuffles. But, your whole world seemed to come crumbling down when it was exposed that your father was still alive and had been hiding with the Weasley family for all these years and it was in fact him who had been working with the Dark Lord.

You spent the rest of the day crying and throwing up. Your father had betrayed your best friend's parents and was the reason that they were dead. He also left you, not caring to stop and think about his actions or even see how you were when he was a room away for the last 3 years. Not only that, but you’d convinced yourself that your Pops hated you. How could he love and think of you as a daughter anymore, when your father had been the reason for his best friend's murder and Sirius being in Azkaban for 12 years. Luckily this event happened during your last week at Hogwarts so you didn’t have to attend any more lessons and had completed all of your exams already so you could stay in your dormitory, ignoring your Pops and Harry. Even though it pained you to do so, especially hearing from Hermione that Remus had been exposed to being a werewolf and decided he wouldn’t be returning to Hogwarts next year, you were desperate to go to him but you stayed holed up in your room.

It wasn’t until your last day that you were truly at your breaking point. Sitting on your bed you watched as the other Gryffindor girls packed their bags, excited to go home for the summer and see their families. You, on the other hand, hadn’t started to pack, sure that you would have nowhere to go, there was no way you’d be wanted back at the Lupin's cottage. Hermione tried to convince you to join her in the Great Hall one last time but you declined, before giving you a quick hug and walking to meet Harry and Ron in the common room. Moving off of your bed, you sat beside the window that overlooked the grounds at Hogwarts, watching as students hugged and celebrated with each other, a pain radiating across your chest as silent tears fell down your cheeks.

The sound of the door opening had you wiping your eyes quickly to hide them. “I said I don’t want to come down to the Great Hall Hermione.” Your voice trailed off as you turned to see your Pops standing at the door, looking down at you with a sad expression. He looked tired and drained, his skin sickly pale and you felt even more guilty for not having visited him as you stood up, wiping your hands on your trousers as you awkwardly stood before him.

“It seemed you wanted your space, but as we’ve reached our last day I think we should talk, little one”, he moved towards your bed, taking a seat and indicating for you to sit on Hermione's bed opposite you. This was what you’d been waiting for, he was going to tell you he didn’t want to look after you anymore. Tentatively, you sat on the bed, hands pulling nervously in your lap as you couldn’t even look up at him.

“Sirius is coming to live-” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to keep me anymore, I understand. I’d rather you just tell me now so I can find somewhere to live,” your voice wobbled as you couldn’t stop the tears escaping but before you could wipe them, a larger scarred hand cupped your cheeks as he knelt in front of you and it only made you cry more.

“Is that truly what you’d think I would do?” he sounded confused and heartbroken as he continued to wipe away your tears with his thumb.

“Why would you want me to still be your daughter when my father is the reason that James and Lily are…” you couldn’t finish the sentence, a sob building in your chest.

“The actions of our parents do not justify the opinions of the children, little one. And I have to be honest, I’ve felt this for a long time but you are my daughter, not his. He wasn’t there for you when you took your first steps or when you first called me Pops, or even when you found and held your wand. I am your father, not Peter.” He moved to sit beside you, holding both of your hands in his as he continued, “You’re one of the most talented witches I’ve ever met, and that’s not me just being biased. You’re top of every single one of your classes and I couldn’t be more proud to be your Pops and I would never give you away.” The ache in your chest eased at his words, relief flooding through you at his words. “Sirius told me that you’d been walking through the grounds with him and he has nothing but compliments about what an amazing person you were and how lucky I was to call you my daughter, he’s also looking forward to meeting you without the fur.”

You laughed, wiping the last of the tears that had stained your cheeks, finally looking your Pops in the eyes as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ears. “I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner, Pops.”

“Don’t apologise, I regret not being able to come and see you sooner, to be truthful with you, I had been answering hundreds of angry letters from parents and only today have I been able to escape the ruckus”. You saw the sadness in his eyes as he spoke, you knew he loved being able to teach so having this opportunity taken away was heartbreaking to see so you did the only thing you could think of, rushing into a hug, startling him slightly before he returned the hug.

“I love you, pops”, your voice was muffled as you nuzzled into his neck, hugging him as strongly as you could.

He chuckled beneath you, kissing the side of your head before saying, “I love you too, little one.” The two of you hugged for a few moments before he pulled back and looked around the room, “I think it’s about time we packed your case, don’t you think? There’s a restless dog at home who can’t wait to meet you properly.” You giggled as you pulled out your case from under the bed but stopped as Remus pulled out his wand and wordlessly started to magically pack your objects away. It took less than a minute for everything to be finished and your case to close, Remus carrying it, as you both left the dormitory, both eager to get home, and continue to be a family.

#remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #request #hp fanfic #peter pettigres daughter #mine*

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dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

Beware the Beast

Pairing: Yandere!Philza x Reader

Request: Maybe some yandere!philza headcanons? You don’t have to!

Word Count: 2k

Warning: yandere, swearing, talk about kidnapping, depression (kinda detailed on that aspect)

A/n: I accidentally turned this into a story- i really need to stop doing that. But I just couldn't resist! Also sorry if Phil is OOC. And this isn't proofread. We die like men here. Can be perceived as platonic or romantic.

This man has lived many years, lost so many loved ones. He’s getting tired of this cycle. It’s truly exhausting. You start to care about the world less. After a while, you start to see too many similarities in things, making it hard to look at. So he starts to close his heart to others. It’s just easier that way, for both parties. Saves him from the heartbreak and them from… well, him. He also stops caring for himself. After all, he’s literally immortal. Nothing can kill this man, so neglecting some self care routines every once in a while wouldn’t hurt…

But this becomes such a bad habit of his. He barely cares for himself after a while. It’s hard to find the energy when it isn’t going to matter in the end. Nothing matters anyways. Every action will always prove fruitless in the end. So what’s the point in doing something so... small if it takes this much energy? If a past version of himself saw Phil now, they’d be disgusted. Telling him to just get up and care for himself. Come on, you’re immortal. Nothing can kill you. Just do this.

He’s a mess when you two meet. His platinum-blonde hair was mostly neat, a little shaggy. It was obvious that he just got himself cleaned up a bit. One can only do so much about deep eyebags, dull hair, and lifeless eyes on such short notice.

You were introduced to him through Ghostbur. Phil was overjoyed that Ghostbur was making more friends. Though much less pleased when Ghostbur insisted that he’d bring his new friend over to meet Phil. Oh come on Phil, you’d just love them. They’re so nice! What tortured Philza more than his first interaction with you? His conversations with Ghostbur about you. He’d just prattle on about things you and him did, about how much fun you two had and how nice you were. Always nice.

And you were nice, an absolute sweetheart. But much too perky for Philza’s liking. You two had been chatting for quite a while when Ghostbur silently leaves you two together. Well, you’re chatting. Phil is just listening to you, hoping that you’d leave at any moment. Some topics were brought up; they were mostly some small icebreakers to get acquainted more.

When your past was brought up, you’d always paint this fucking picture-perfect past. So peaceful. God, the envy he had of you, of the peace you experienced in your life- He felt bad for it, honestly, he did. But he just wished he could’ve had even a fraction of the prosperity you spoke about. For someone living in the DSMP, you had a relatively easy and steady life. No war, no major or sudden loss or anything of that sort. A perfect life.

After that, you just kept coming back. Why? Why are you coming back? Are you here to taunt him for the life he lived? For the life he’ll never have? Is some god sending you as a punishment? A living example of everything he gave up, had to leave behind. That’s what he believed, anyways.

That was far from your intentions. You saw how he was in your first meeting; jumpy yet dissociating from reality. An oppressive, glum aura seemed to just emanate him. So downtrodden and dead inside, yet so obviously alive on the outside. It hurt to see him like that, as you went through something similar. You had no idea how long he’d been like that, but you decided that you’d help him in any way that you could.

You tried to make it a daily thing. Everyday you’d go to Phil’s house around midday to afternoon. You two would talk for a bit, but you’d couldn’t help sprinkling your questions in. Have you eaten yet, mr. Philza? Have you had water today, mr. Philza? Have you preened your feathers, mr. Philza? Have you bathed today, mr. Philza?

Your questions irked Phil. Everyday, without fail, you’d come and talk to him. It’d be small talk at first; what the weather was up to that day, some light politics, Tubbo’s new adopted son. Small. Yet you’d always bring up his self care. He was a fcking grown man. He could take care of himself. What’s worse? You’d pester him to care for himself in that instant if he even showed a small sign of negligence. And you’d stay the entire time, making sure he did everything. And then you’d always add “mr. Philza” on the end. It was a sign of respect, yet it upset him so much. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was.

Though it was annoying, it got him in the habit of caring for himself. It was only to stop your pesting! That’s the reasoning. The only reason. It wasn’t because you’re congratulating and giving him treats when he remembered to care for himself. Or you petting his wings… Those were only bonuses! He swears!

It becomes more steady as time goes on; you go and visit Phil, you talk with Phil and see if he’s caring for himself, and if he was, you’d reveal a delicious treat from within your enderchest. You two would talk while munching on the food, having fun sharing what your pasts were like. Well, more like yours. Phil didn’t really talk about his.

But he still seems so cold, disinterested. Even with how long you’ve been going over for. Like he’s only listening to what you’re telling him. If he’s even listening. And seeing how he interacted with others like Techno and Ranboo, it really disheartened you. He was so much more lively with them, more natural. Loud laughing and silly little antics. It only took a few small, insignificant depression episodes for your self doubt to finally debilitate you. Though it only really affected your contact with Phil; he was a big insecurity of yours.

So you start to distance yourself. You were hurting and saw yourself as a bother to Philza. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t try to talk to him anymore. He’d be so much happier without you bugging him all the time. All of this sudden, open time gives you much more empty hours. There was nothing to do. So you did what you could; you went out to make or strengthen friendships. It was so nice. You never realized how everyone on the smp was so nice. Maybe they weren’t as bad as Phil was making them all out to be…

Philza was upset the first day you weren’t there. You were such a steady element of his day. You were like the very air he breathed; it was extremely hard to live without you. He never noticed before how much he needed you. Yes, he knew that he really enjoyed you, saw that you were a pillar, a constant in his life. He came to enjoy your visits, but hadn’t realized how dependent he became because of them. It was day three when Phil started to worry about you. Why hadn’t you come to talk with him, like usual? He’s taking care of himself, just for you, just like you kept insisting he do. And he made you some cake.

He knew he was acting odd, lovesick even. His love for you was toxic, extremely so. It wasn’t healthy, yet he couldn’t care less anymore. You were like his nicotine to a smoker; he couldn't live without you being in his life. His everyday life. So after some debating, he finally went out to look for you.

Traversing the nether wasn’t too bad, but still a tedious walk. He was stuck in his mind the entire trip there, wondering where you could be and what you could be doing. Maybe you got caught up in making something. A redstone project? That’d be pretty cool. Or maybe moving? No, if you were, you’d have told him. But that didn’t stop him from speeding up just a wee bit. Just to make sure you were actually still on the smp.

His mind was racing, thinking of any possibility of what you were doing. And his mind eventually hit something that absolutely terrified him; you could be sick, injured, or dying. It felt like the world just fucking stopped. This was a sudden loss of contact and you still hadn’t come to talk with him. So that… that means there’s a high probability of you being in danger.

He ran the rest of the way to the main part of the smp. When he came out of the portal, he frantically looked around for any sign of you. For your house. Then it hit him; he had no idea where you lived. You only mentioned it being cold where you lived, just like where he lived. So that most likely meant Snowchester. He started running toward the cold nation

On his way to Snowchester, he observed his surroundings. A little bit. He had to get to you, keep his eye on the prize. And he was glad that he looked around. There you were, on another part of the prime path.

He was overjoyed to see you, especially doing so well. Soon he came to a stop. Just floored by the fact you were there, in front of him. Frantically he tried to view you as best he could, looking for any sign of injury or illness.

Now he couldn’t come across as clingy or desperate. That wasn’t how you knew him. You know him as Philza; the kind but a mild social recluse. Not really going out to others unless he needed something or he was needed.

So he walked over to you, trying his best to look nonchalant. Like he wasn’t just desperately searching for you a moment ago. He called out to you and guess what happened? You started to walk away. He was stunned. Did you just ignore him? No, you must not have heard him. It was kinda windy out at the moment.

Logically he did the best option, following you. He had no clue where your destination could be. You were going to a different area of the smp than he had been. My how the smp changed since the destruction of L’manberg. He knew it changed, but it seemed so much bigger than what you described.

He didn’t exactly pay attention to where you were indirectly leading him. That was until a flash of movement caught his attention. Snapping out of it, he looked to see what could’ve been going on. Who could’ve been there. And what he saw before him was a terrible sight.

Quackity stood by your side, animatedly chatting with you. Phil was confused as to why you were talking to Quackity of all people. You two recently talked about how Quackity was problematic and arrogant. If you knew that, then why were you talking to him?

Awkwardly he watched you. Not within earshot, but where he could keep an eye on you and Quackity. And Quackity was looking at Phil too. His eyes spoke volumes; Quackity wasn’t pleased that Phil was there. Boy was that sentiment shared. It was tense between the two, yet you still seemed oblivious to what was going on.

Then Quackity said something, putting his hand on your shoulder and leading you somewhere else. But gave one last look at Phil, one that just spoke “fuck off”. Phil wished he could’ve told Quackity the same. To get him away for you.

Quackity’s action sparked a thought in him. A reason as to why you hadn’t come to talk to Phil; Quackity must’ve kidnapped you! Yes, that’s why you hadn’t come. It makes so much sense. Quackity knows you and most likely knows you talk to Phil.

With how easily you tell Phil of the people you’re talking to, he doubts that the behavior would just change. But that’s what must’ve gotten you in so much trouble; you were too trusting, too kind-hearted. You gave Quackity a chance and he was stealing you away, imprisoning you. You needn’t worry dear, he’ll rescue you from that foul man.

#tw: yandere #c: phil #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #philza x reader #dream smp x reader #yandere #yandere philza #yandere dream smp #dsmp shipping #tw: swearing #yandere x reader #yandere philza x reader #c: quackity #tw: depression #tw: mental health

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Note

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie @slightlyobsessedwithissues

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

#Request #SPN Mixed Bingo Square #Hurt/Comfort #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Supernatural fiction

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psychewithwings · 3 years

Text

Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back…

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have.

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile.

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro.

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die.

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue.

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio.

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror.

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection.

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved.

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up.

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?”

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed? His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly.

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool.

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself. You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door.

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful.

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go. “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?”

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change.

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you.

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes.

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?”

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.”

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago.

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.”

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.”

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.”

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties.

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water.

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours.

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire.

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan.

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.”

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock.

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move.

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.”

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls.

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same.

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively.

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!”

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die.

You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms.

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole. This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor.

#mirio #mirio togata #mirio smut #bnha #mha #bnha mirio #villain mirio #bnharem collab #bnharem #villain au

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