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impractical) wrote2025-03-17 02:48 pm
impractical) wrote2025-03-17 02:48 pm
Entry tags:
open post 2025
leave a starter or prompt; happy to plot first via pm or plurk.
muselist here.
spoilers and nsfw possible, will mark in tls.
wip list of tropes and stuff i pretty much always want to play:
- lotus-eater situation, aka "you're living your perfect life and don't realize it's killing you!"
- pining! you know the hand flex gif from p&p? of course you do
- vampires...
- misunderstandings between people who have feelings for each other, i.e. thinking one of them is interested in someone else and it comes to a head in heated admissions of Feelings
- slow burn over a psl
- ALL the h/c, whether one or two-sided
- fwiw some of my favorite bstreet memes are morning after, train to the afterlife, drunk meme, find them dying, and insomnia
- text is always going to be a yes from me dawg
- classics: only one bed, huddle for warmth
- amnesia???
no subject
Thanks. [ There's an awkward, breathy laugh at that. At her request, he nods hastily, looking toward the door. ] Yeah, no, I'll be back before you know it.
[ Except she's still touching him, and he hasn't moved. Sam wills his legs to walk already, to stride across the kitchen and to the door, ascending to the surface and high-tailing it to the restaurant. It'd be so easy to do that. Rowena isn't a threat or anything, it's not like she'd stop him. She isn't stopping him now...
Except. That hand. What the hell's wrong with me? ]
...I - [ Dammit. His mind feels like it's being pulled in two directions, with one of them being insane and the other being the right choice. For some reason, it's as if logic has completely gone out the window: vanished into the night. Is it 'cause it's late? Because I'm hungry? What?
Don't do anything stupid. If Dean were here, he'd-...well, he wouldn't let it happen, but that doesn't stop what he says next: ]
I... Are you sure that's...what you want?
no subject
oh, samuel, those were the wrong words.
she smiles, and it's a little sharper than before )
I think we both know what I really need. ( need rather than like. when she's drinking blood it's like nothing else, intoxicating in its own way, but she would never say that she likes having to do it, or fighting her urges ) But that isn't an option for now, dear. I'll be fine tomorrow.
( take that as you will, samuel. she'll feed when you're asleep )
no subject
In this moment, though, it's sharply apparent how very real her vampirism is. Those lovely eyes are suddenly more sharp, to say nothing of the way her smile seems to take on a hungry (albeit a little regretful) twinge. Sam takes in all of these features with the experienced gaze of a hunter, knowing that absolutely everything he's suddenly considering is an absolutely terrible idea.
...Wouldn't be the first time, right? He and Dean do dumb stuff all the time. And it's...largely worked out. They're here and alive, anyway. ]
Right. [ "I'll be fine tomorrow" is so deferential. He chews on this for a minute as they stand there together, her hand still pressed to him. ] ...Why's it not an option?
[ He doesn't volunteer himself specifically. Yet. Just asks in what he hopes is a completely casual way why she can't...say, pop out to the bar at which she typically satisfies her dark urge. ]
no subject
Drinking from someone is quite an intimate thing, Samuel.
( she sometimes pairs it with sex, experiencing both highs together )
It isn't simply trusting me with your life but giving me some of it. And friends-- I value them more than to drink from them.
But, I also don't drink close to home. I've always kept it away from here, or places I'd be often seen. And only ever with someone willing to give themselves to me.
no subject
He feels insane, but the idea is still nagging at him anyway. ]
Yeah, I -- sorry. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.
[ It's intimate, like she's said. Obviously, given...what it is. And he's seen enough vamps in action to know that anyway.
If the context here happens to be a lot more fraught, well... ]
You're right. [ He adds quickly, and even manages to move himself a hair back, so she's no longer touching him. Feeling the way his pulse quickens (even though he's aware she can still hear it). ] I shouldn't have-... I should go.
[ He should! He should go. This is what he tells himself as he successfully makes that one step...and then stalls, feet stuck as if in cement. ]
no subject
( his name is softly said, silky in how it leaves her.
rowena pauses for a minute, almost letting him go, but then she takes that step back towards him, her fingers brushing against his wrist again as if she needs to touch him. even though being close to him, she can feel the pump of his blood, he's one of the people who keeps her calmest-- their connection is like nothing else )
You never make me uncomfortable, Samuel. But-- why would you make that offer?
( she frowns. it's the one piece that doesn't make sense to her, and not simply because he's a hunter. but she can read the unspoken thought of his-- he hadn't just been asking )
no subject
[ It's an honest answer, which she -- she who knows him well -- can see plain on his face, and hear in the sort of lost quality of his voice. Sam shakes his head vaguely, looking a little on edge not only with the situation itself, but with his own uncertainty surrounding his motivations.
Sam's drunk his share of blood, but it wouldn't be like this. Is that why? Is any part of it...to overwrite old memories that haunt him with some newer, possibly nicer ones, even with their complications?
That isn't it either, though. So he sighs, hand twisting a little so he can hold her hand in his own. ]
I...might be losing it. [ He admits with a chuckle, gaze dropping to their linked arms. ] But...part of me...wants to do that. For you.
[ Yeah. That fact...is true. Saying it out loud feels right. As to why he wants to, though, when she has other options? He's still working that part out. ]
no subject
rowena lets his words sink in, the seconds almost audible ticking past. she knows that she should still refuse despite his willingness, that this could irreperably alter their friendship-- but rowena trusts him, and she believes that he wouldn't let it.
slowly, she smiles, squeezing his hand again, before leading him from the room, keeping their hands linked )
Then we should get you comfortable.
( she leads him down the halls to her own room which, thanks to magic, is far more plush and comfortable than any other space in the bunker. she nudges him over to her couch, getting him to sit. rowena's aware that they could have done this anywhere, but even with samuel's consent, dean would have had an opinion about it )
I'll be gentle.
( her smile is softer, less sharp than in the kitchen, and rowena settles herself into his lap, nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt )
You can still say no, I wouldn't be offended.
no subject
Particularly when she sits on his lap. ]
...Trust me, I'm-...very comfortable. [ Both true and untrue. He's uncomfortable as hell because he knows the choice he's making is almost definitely a terrible idea, and also because...in addition to that, it's wildly sexy that Rowena is straddling him and going to bite is neck.
Dude. Seriously? He doesn't bother arguing with himself, though he does cast that conflicted gaze toward the door. ]
You might want to... [ Sam trails off. If Dean happens up this, the result will be a shit show, and they both know it. ]
no subject
( she'd promised to hex him a long time ago it he ever entered it, something that dean had taken very seriously. but even so, there's a twist of her hand, and he'll hear the locking of the door, for samuel's security.
rowena's fingers stroke softly over his neck before her lips press to it, kissing him gently, letting him get used to her touch first.
when she pulls back, he'll feel a sharpness, her nail working over the skin, leaving a small cut. her tongue laps up the blood, a warm, pleased hum.
god, you taste fantastic, samuel )
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I'm not so sure. [ He says, rubbing the back of his neck. ] It surprises most people what Dean'd 'dare' to do.
[ Sam included. So he's relieved when she does, in fact, shut and lock the door, his shoulders sinking a little with the knowledge that...well, at least he'd have a minute to come up with an excuse, should his brother come knocking.
Why're you even doing this if you know it's wrong? The voice is his own, but he doesn't have an answer for it. Maybe he's just weaker than he thought (something previously thought impossible). Because Rowena's fingers, and then lips, at his neck elicit a little shiver, and it's easy to banish the doubting voice in his mind.
For now.
There's a small, sharp inhale as her nail slices a little into his skin, then a larger one as her tongue takes the blood. Heat rises in his cheeks as he desperately tries to hold himself together, though the whole thing feels like being swept down a river without anything more than the cheapest of inner tubes.
At least she's taking it slow, he thinks, having expected a full-on bite. But is this worse, in his long-term efforts to stay sane? ]
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she doesn't want to muddy their friendship irreparably, and this is already going to have to be something to navigate after.
her lips are bloodstained as rowena sits back up, unconsciously rocking over his hips, and her thumb brushes slowly over his jaw )
This will hurt-- at first. And then-- ( her cheeks are a little pinker, though whether that's arousal or bloodlust is harder to untangle. rowena leans back in, lapping the blood that had slowly trickled, humming softly against him ) You taste wonderful, Samuel.
( and it's why she can never drink from him again. there's power in his blood-- demon power, magic, and to someone without her control, it would be far too easy to drain him to taste it all. irresistible.
a second passes-- she presses a soft kiss over his neck again before he'll feel the points of her fangs against his skin. one more second-- two-- rowena sinks them quickly into him, letting the sharper pang of pain pass quickly, and blood fills her mouth as she drinks from him. pleasure floods her, filling her, and she moans.
it's over as quickly as it had begun. her mouth drips with blood as she leans back, her eyes closed, and as her fingers touch his neck, her magic heals the wound. from someone else, she would have drank for longer, from samuel-- well, she was polite, taking only what she needed to stave off the hunger until their work was complete.
she released a sigh, fondness in her expression as she looks at him, her hand cupping his cheek )
Thank you, my dove.