belovedmoore reblogged
belovedmoore reblogged
sam.
“Hey, so um…” they’re just getting out of class, Sam walking by Jess’s side, “Yeah, so like, are you free tonight? Wanna do dinner, maybe a movie?” Sam goes for casual, but he’s still new to this whole steady dating thing. He’s seen a few episodes of the Cosby Show and figures this is how it’s suppose to be on friday nights. “Or we could, y’know, do somethin’ else?”
when the winchester’s voice chirps up beside her, there’s a natural curve forming to his lips; his inelegance with plan forming quite charming to her, if anything. she finds teeth snaring at her lower lip, glancing up at him, the spring surroundings complimenting his young features softly. ❛ dinner would be nice. i haven’t been out to eat in awhile. we could always order in, too. get our snuggle on. ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
you’re adorable fuck me against a wall
belovedmoore reblogged
[ he turns at the voice, and that in and of itself is a miracle. it’s so familiar, so comforting. it reminds him of fingers in his hair and the smell of strawberries. he turns, meets her eyes. ]
I know you.
[ and it’s like he’s unaware of the rain pouring down around them, unable to be touched in his trance-like state. he can barely register cold anymore when he’s cold all the time. ]
she wants to stifle a smile at the innocence that melts into his gaze, having grown hard in color, perhaps even sad over time. she’s fighting off various tugs within her, an uncomfortable churn of her gut, temptation stirring within her belly, fire settling in her chest; all for him. all for him.
❛ yeah, yeah you do. ❜
jess isn’t able to offer up much confirmation before her worries return to the frigid shivering of his limbs, a shaking he didn’t seem entirely too aware of. a hand lifts to brush his arm, but before she can meet the skin she’s returning it to the air between them, shifting her hood instead.
❛ what are you doing out here? you need to get inside, sam. it’s freezing. ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
HE shifts his gaze to look around, checking for any onlookers, but there’s no one there listening. he turns back, furrowing his brows.
“why not? ”
it wasn't a matter of those surrounding them –– as they all mindfully went about their business, most not even within a few yards of distance. it was more a panic of who could come, the younger of the two. she wasn’t ready to face that, truthfully she wasn’t sure if she ever would be.
❛ is sam with you? ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
lost.
[ rain pelts down onto sam’s already soaked head and body, t-shirt and pajama bottoms clinging to him, bare feet pressed flat against the pavement. he can see his breath, but doesn’t register that he can. his eyes are far away, as is the rest of him. ]
[ he wouldn’t know if someone passes by. he’s lost, trapped. his lips move soundlessly, but occasionally mutter something coherent. he doesn’t feel the chill, but his body is freezing, limbs shaking with the rain bone-deep. ]
I must’ve made a wrong turn.
there no longer stood a home for her, no longer was there a place of refuge for her to crawl when the moon got too heavy, the night too thick as it blanketed her surroundings. the memories, as distorted as they were –– she couldn’t even be sure if they were real, but they brought panic. twisted dreams to nightmares and everything in between. sad, wasn’t it? a girl who’d been given a second chance all too willing to take it away from herself once more.
blonde waves are hidden beneath her hood, ends peeking from the fabric dripping with rainwater, the sky above them an angry mouth, thunder rolling through the ground beneath her feet. it’s the pale blue pajama bottoms that catch her eye, so soft in the storm. but before she finds the breath to call out to the other, soaked through the barely-there layers on their figure, she hears that familiar tone. his tone.
❛ ––––– sam? ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
“It’s my birthday.”
she can’t help the radiant beam that takes over her lips, that tiny pink umbrella definitely suiting the occasion, stirring up a snicker from the girl in response.
❛ yes it is, baby. and once you’ve had three too many, i’ve got a little surprise for you myself. ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
belovedmoore reblogged
belovedmoore reblogged
DEAN.
That was a question he didn’t want to answer honestly. Where had he been? Really? He’d been trying not to look at her, to avoid being alone with her. He’s locked up all thoughts and all feeling just to get by. Now all that hard work was for nothing because in the end he would always succumb. Wasn’t that the lesson he’d learned in hell? He just wasn’t strong enough.
But he doesn’t say or voice any of this. Indeed, his expression stays somewhat cheery as he watches her pop a grape into her mouth. He leans back, spreads out on his side of the couch and lifts the bottle to his lips to take back another swig. Not as big. He wasn’t trying to slow his movements or his speech. The hard part is over. Sitting down, talking, the awkward part has to be behind them. As a result of this thinking he relaxes. Dean is one of those people who directly effects the energy around him. When he’s upset? You can feel it like a static charge. Now that he’s beginning to unwind, however, the atmosphere has changed drastically.
“Where’s he been?” He asks again, stealing a bit of cheese to wrap around a grape. “Talking to whiskey about his problems, that’s where” he smirks at her and pops the grape cheese into his mouth, chasing it with the bottle in his hand. This was better.
She clicks her tongue as if to suggest that were a shame, him trusting his sorrows to such an irresponsive source, but really Jess knows far better than that, can see clear into the gleam that still lingers within his gaze: doubt, a casual liar nonetheless, and she can’t help but to be thankful he is. She doesn’t go as far as to assume he’d learned her habits throughout the night, where near silent feet would carry her throughout the bunker, the places she could bundle up that seemed to keep anxiety from creeping forward so heavily; but the many images of the times she’d caught him nursing the bottle flourish her thoughts, and she can only silently hope the liquor had taken him enough to keep from noticing that tiny furrow of empathy between light brows.
Was this what they’d resolved to? Some sort of waiting game? Playing out the next hour or so as if the normalcy would give them a means of an out to cling to come morning? A safety pillow to keep themselves from spiraling into the wicked guilt that would be sure to follow. It only made it ever clearer that he had every intention of this being a one night thing, and nothing more, just as Jess herself did. One night was certainly far less punishable than multiple, no? One night could be tucked away; not without months, potentially years of harrow on their conscience, but somehow they’d find a way to forgiveness. They would, they would. They would.
Her smirk remains present, biting at her lower lip as she finishes off another piece of the sweet fruit, it’s nectar still lingering on her tongue. ❛ Whiskey. Such a lovely traitor. ❜ she watches the fire dance within the sheen of his hues, dropping to his lips a moment after, though her gaze still shys away. She’s allowed to look now, isn’t she? Isn’t she? ❛ Debatable as to whether or not it’s better than my company, of course. ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
SAM.
“Pinchable? Really Jess..” A snort, shuffling forward a few steps before stopping. Head tilting in her direction, an almost smug smile inching across his face. “So what happens if I take… I don’t know, eleven seconds?”
but of course he had to ask, resulting in a pouty mumble against the pillow, a cluster of syllables that didn’t really amount to much. she’s tempted to shoot up from where she lay and grab hold of his shirt, sure a fistful of the cotton could successful aid her in tugging him into bed, but she hesitates -- for now. pale hues lined with a playful, mischievous gleam.
❛ then no kisses for you. i’d weigh your odds of survival carefully. ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
DEAN.
Sometimes it was a bit overwhelming. She wanted this so much and he did too, of course he did, but was he worth a home cooked meal? He got by just fine with gas station food and the cheap shit from the grocery store. But he couldn’t say anything about it. She’d done so much and gone through the trouble so- “It smells awesome” and he holds her just as tight as he was being held.
The worry, the gut wrenching shame clears up just a bit when their lips brush together. The more he saturates himself with Jess the less guilt he feels at that particular time. It’s a bandaid sort of thing but it works. “What’d you make me?”
there wasn’t question as to why most of their time spent together was colored with gasps, pleasure seeming to be the only thing potent enough to keep their minds from idling; this in between, the tender divide of whatever it is they were, it was difficult to balance, to keep from letting that knowing ruin their time together. lazing around the apartment only enveloped them both with guilt, and so maybe that’s why she’d busied herself. looked into a bunch of recipes and dug for ingredients that made her belly stir most with interest, pressing every nagging worry as far back as she could.
her arms loosen around him slightly, brushing them back til her wrists sit at his shoulders, trying for what she could to study around the hesitance in his features. it’s almost an apologetic reflex; the last thing she wanted was to crowd him. ❛ fettucini alfredo. it’s one of my favorites, plus i’ve got an old family recipe for the sauce. not that i can do it justice. ❜
DEAN.
there's warmly scented candles lit within the apartment, windows open to allow the wind to flirt along the curtains, greeting him the moment he walked in the door with a giddy smile on her lips. keys were set off near the coatrack, arms wrapping themselves up and around the hunter’s neck as her nose aligns with his, a childlike excitement about her. there’s a light hum, pecking his lips once before pulling back just enough to seek out his gaze.
❛ so, i may or may not be making dinner for the two of us. ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
DEAN
When Dean can finally collect himself he runs the tap and fills up a glass, chugging it back then refilling it a second time to repeat his actions. He isn’t as gone as he would like to be. Maybe it’s just the conversation or his nerves but whatever it was is keeping him sober longer then he wants it to. Dean knows that tonight will stick in his memory for as long as he has it. The idea is damning. Not only does he have to worry about the fate of the world, the fate of his brother, but now he has to add sleeping with Jess to the list.
Because even if they just sleep- well that would almost be worse wouldn’t it. In that case it wouldn’t even be about physical attention but about something else entirely. He can’t let it get like that. In his experience when you just long for someone it makes you feel connected where there is no connection. You simply lust for that person and once you spend a night together that connection is gone. Dean isn’t betraying his brother. He’s helping him. After tonight things will be just fine. After tonight he’ll never have to think about Jess again.
It cheers him up. Allows him to believe he isn’t going to his own funeral as he makes his way back over to the couch. They will be okay. She will be okay. “We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do” he tells her, handing over a glass of water he’d brought for the both of them and dropping grapes, cheese, and bread from under his arm. “We’re just going to hang out and pig out like grownups” she’s a girl, a pretty girl, he doesn’t want to sit here eating pie with his hands and sipping jack from the bottle. Even if he is perfectly capable of doing that and has on many occasions.
Messy, scattered pieces of herself were pushed and melded precariously back together by the time he’d made it back into the room, nothing more than the television casting a glow across their features, hiding the undertones of what they might not want the other to know. Just how hooded their curious gazes really were, how knowing the flit of their hues to watch one another’s mouths. Everything could be excused here in the dark blanket of the room, couldn’t it? Could be played off as nothing more than a trick of the eye, rather than a pit of desire within her chest that didn’t belong there in the first place.
Jess knows the only thing keeping her afloat is that they hadn’t done anything yet, all in all the words could mean little to nothing. After all it was easier to just tuck themselves into bed at the end of the night with an I didn’t mean what I said versus the nauseating tug of please forgive me for what I just did. And his words only assure her, they didn’t need to do anything –– didn’t need to touch, delve into that wonder of what the other felt like, sounded like, how he t a s t e d; but when had this ever been about need? It was selfish, all of this was, and his presence alone against the couch sends that current through her potent as ever.
She takes the offered water with a nod in thanks, and though before she’d had to makeshift a smile, the one twitching at pursed lips rings somewhat genuine this time. Despite them lingering between some limbo of betrayal, she imagined this was the Dean that had held off on her for so long. Reaching for the grapes she tears a few free, popping one into her mouth and slinking back into the cushions, raising a brow at him. ❛ And where has this Dean been to share my late-night binging habits? ❜
belovedmoore reblogged
