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lonelyreputation · 5 years ago

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Caught

A/N: Hello hello! Here’s some (more) fluff!! Who am I? But anyway, I wrote this from this sensory request and it was actually the first request I GOT ON THIS BLOG (!!!) so I'm so sorry that it’s coming so late!! But I’ll always remember this request bc it was the first🥺

Anywaayyyy thank you all so much for reading, sending me the nicest messages, reblog-ing, and requesting prompts!! I get so much motivation from you all it’s insane!! Thank you!! I appreciate every single one of you!!

PROMPT: Licking your fingers while eating Cheetos

Chat Chat Chat | MASTERLIST

Warnings: One (1) swear word & a bit of a heated make out session😶

Word Count: 3.9K

Being a twenty-year-old and playing sold out shows in stadiums around the world was abnormal. But what was more abnormal was that the twenty-year-old who spent most of his time on a tour bus than in his own apartment was your boyfriend. Not many people could say that their boyfriend was in Amsterdam one day and then Paris the next.

Shawn had spent spring in Europe on a tourbus and hotel rooms, and his summer wasn’t much different, except for the fact that he was on his North American leg of the tour. He had convinced you to come traveling across America; it was more in your budget and convenient with your university schedule.

Every now and then, Shawn would have some down time, but it wasn’t very often. He kept apologizing whenever he was pulled away and promised to spend time with you more. But you didn’t mind. Shawn had given you a front seat to his career and everything it entails. And it was fascinating. You would be in one city and everyone would already be advancing for a show that was two weeks away. The precision and detail of obscure jobs that some crew had gone over your head in the past, but seeing all the mechanics of everything that goes on for the show to happen…it made you appreciate Shawn’s performances even more.

You had gotten fairly close with Shawn’s head of tour merchandiser, Dane, and often found yourself helping him set up the merchandise stands when Shawn was off at a meet and greet, sound check, or wherever Andrew had pulled him away to.

“Are you playing in the little soccer match they have going on later today?” You asked Dane as you carried over a large brown cardboard box.

He held up a finger to you as he finished up his count in of tour posters and typed it on a tour merchandise app on his phone, “Yeah, you?”

You shook your head as you used a key to tear through the sealed box. Once the tape that held the box together was ripped, you opened the four flaps and saw that you were counting in some sweatshirts. Silently, you counted ten sweatshirts, put them in a pile on the side with a sticky note on top with a number ten circled and then counted out another ten sweatshirts.

“I’ve never been good with hand eye coordination,” you didn’t look up at him as you continued to count ten sweatshirts, “I’ve always been better at cheering people on from the sides.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.”

You had just finished circling a ten on a neon green sticky note as you capped the sharpie and looked at Dane, “You’ve noticed?”

Dane nodded with a smile on his face as he hung up a piece of paper with a blown up image of a keychain; he stuck a large sticker with the price of the keychain on the corner of the paper. He hung it up on the black tapestry so that way fans would be able to see it before they got up to the front of the merchandise line.

“You’re always there for Shawn when he walks on and off stage. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go to the bathroom when he’s performing.”

You blushed as you finished counting the last of the sweatshirts in the box you carried in, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“He loves it,” Dane took a t-shirt and clipped the sleeves of it to the top of the tapestry, “The week before you came he literally wouldn’t shut up––Y/n’s coming next week, did you know? I just love her so much! I miss her so much!”

You bunched up a t-shirt and threw it at Dane as he miserably failed at impersonating Shawn’s voice, “He didn’t say that.”

“Ask him yourself.”

“Oh, I––“

“Ask who yourself?”

You spun your head around and came face to face with your boyfriend. You smiled at him and threw another balled up shirt at Dane.

“Hey! That’s merchandise we’re selling tonight!”

You waved Dane off and rested your hands on your hips, “Before I came on tour were you non-stop going around telling people I was coming and saying how much you love me and saying how much you missed me?”

Shawn still had a slight smile on his face as he gazed at you. His facial expression hadn’t changed since he walked up behind you, so you thought you had proved Dane wrong, but that wasn’t the case when Shawn spoke up.

He shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, why?” He spoke as if it that information was public knowledge.

Before you had the chance to say anything, you felt a soft material collide with the back of your head. Your head slightly jerked forward from the contact of the t-shirt that was just thrown at you. You quickly picked the shirt off the dusty ground and glared at Dane, “This is merchandise that you’re selling tonight.”

Dane barked out a laugh as he finished setting up the merchandise display. He stood back and admired his work for a few seconds before informing Shawn he was going to check on the other stands and make sure everyone else on the merchandise team had completed their count in. They did some sort of bro handshake, before telling one another that they’d see each other shortly for the soccer game.

Shawn walked up to your side and threw an arm over your shoulder. You leaned your head back on his shoulder and looked up at him, “Excited for the match?”

“Yeah, just wish you were playing.”

Your eyes closed as Shawn lightly traced circles on your upper arm with the tips of his fingers. Shivers ran down your spine as you closed your eyes, “You’ve seen me play.”

Shawn let out a laugh as he started walking, guiding you around the main floor of the arena, “Even though it is probably a good idea that you’re not playing, it still would’ve been fun to be on the same team.”

You let out a snort as you snaked a hand around his back to pinch his hip. Shawn lightly jerked away from you before he tickled your shoulder in retaliation, “I’d make sure we’d be on separate teams.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed in response and let the conversation die down. Whenever a crew member passed, you offered a smile and Shawn greeted them by name. Seeing the dynamic he had with his crew was heartwarming because you had read of horror stories of main acts being absolute divas to their crew members.

Shawn led you backstage as the two of you wandered into his dressing room. You sat on the couch as he went over to a little duffle bag he packed just for the soccer game. Carefully, you watched him as he bent over, staring at how his shoulder blades could be seen through his white t-shirt as he rummaged through the bag.

Swiftly, he tore his white shirt off and you were graced with a second of seeing your boyfriend’s muscles. The sight didn’t last long because Shawn threw his t-shirt at your face. You scrunched your nose up at the slightly sweaty smell mixed in with his signature scent.

“Hey!”

It only took you a second to throw the shirt off your face, but it was a second too long because Shawn was already in a vintage t-shirt and sliding on a pair of athletic shorts up past his thighs.

“That’s not fair,” you whined.

Shawn threw his head back in laughter as he picked up his sneakers. He walked over to where you sat on the couch, picked up your legs without any hesitation, and as he sat down on the couch, he rested your calves on his thighs.

He hunched over your legs as you watched him slide his sneakers on and tie them up. The position couldn’t have been comfortable, but he managed to get his sneakers on without complaining for you to move your legs. And you weren’t complaining about the physical contact your legs had with his thighs.

Once he was done tying his shoes, he sat up and stretched his back, a few pops emitted from his body and you flinched, not liking the sounds of bones cracking together.

Shawn rested his hands on your knees as he leaned his head on top of the couch cushion, eyes closed he said, “I don’t wanna play.”

A small chuckle left your lips, “That’s a lie.”

He turned his head slightly towards you and opened one eye, “Yeah, I do wanna play,” he let out a sigh, “but sitting here with you is so nice.”

A loud laugh escaped your lips as you looked over at him, both of his eyes now opened and intently staring at you with adoration.

“We’re literally doing nothing.”

“As long as I’m with you,” he lifted his shoulders up in a shrug, “I don’t care what we’re doing.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. Truth is, you loved doing nothing with him. You savored the days when all Shawn wanted to do was spend all day tangled in your bedsheets. You adored the days when you would sit on your couch reading a book––in a similar position to how you were sitting now––and Shawn would be hunched over scribbling lyrics down in a journal, using your legs as a writing surface.

You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Too sweet.”

“Uh huh,” Shawn grumbled as he pointed to his lips with his index finger, “I want a real kiss.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment before swinging a leg over his lap, adjusting your knees on either side as you straddled him. Shawn’s hands instantly moved with your body as they landed on your waist. Unlike your hands that were pressed flat on his chest, Shawn’s hands slowly rubbed your lower back and come back around to your waist.

The only thing more heavenly than his touch was the feeling of his kiss.

Shawn craned his neck up to reach your teasing smile and captured your lips in a sweet kiss. Your smile was slow to disappear; being in Shawn’s presence was a reason for you to smile in itself, but once he pinched your hips silently telling you to focus on kissing him, you thought that was a good enough reason to stop smiling.

Your hands trailed up Shawn’s chest until they rounded his neck. He hummed as he pulled you closer to his chest and your fingers began to play with the small curls on the nape of his neck. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss at the same time his hands tightly balled up the bottom of your shirt. He lifted your shirt at a painstakingly slow pace to the point where you wanted to rip it off yourself.

Shawn had the shirt bunched up right under your bra. Breaking the kiss, you leaned back, untangled your arms from around his neck and raised them over your head to aid Shawn in taking your shirt off. Once the shirt was off, he carelessly threw it somewhere behind you, and without any hesitation, Shawn reattached his lips to yours as you felt a magnetic pull bring you closer to him.

His calloused fingertips were hot on your bare skin as they danced around.

Just as you lowered your body to grind against his, a loud single knock, followed by a Shawn, caused both of your heads to snap toward the door. Shawn practically threw you off him as he looked for your shirt––for anything––to cover up your exposed chest.

You were leaning back against the arm rest of the couch, trying to calm down your erratic breathing, as you watched Shawn’s eyes widened as the door handle rattled. It looked as if Shawn threw every ounce of common sense out the window as he threw a pillow that hit you in the face.

You clutched the pillow in your hands as you briefly looked down at it, and then back to Shawn, realizing what he wanted you to do with it, “I’m not––“

“Use it, Y/n––“

“Shawn!”

Your harsh whispers were cut off when Dane walked carelessly into the room. The pillow was still limp in your hands; in shock that Dane came into the room with little announcement. Shawn took notice of your chest still out for Dane to see––if he hadn’t seen it already––and with panicked eyes, he flung himself from the other end of the couch to lay on top of you.

You let out an oof as you felt Shawn’s full body weight collapsed on you; the pillow nestled between your stomachs. You had never complained about Shawn being on top of you, but with this position, the arm of the couch was digging into your back and you and causing you to cramp up.

“Shawn,” Dane said his name again as he continued to walk further into the dressing room, “Are you gonna come and warm up? The game starts in–––Oh.”

You tried to peak over Shawn’s shoulder to gauge Dane’s facial expression, but with the way Shawn was pressed up against you, you couldn’t see him. But from the suggestive tone of his voice, you knew that teasing would be soon to follow.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You squeaked out a not at all as Shawn let out a frustrated of fucking course.

You smacked Shawn’s back with his hand at his crude response.

Dane let out a bellowing laugh, “How ya feeling down there, y/n?” You heard his footsteps come closer and your hands clutched the fabric of Shawn’s shirt out of nervousness, “This is pure gold. Andrew has said that he’s never caught you two in the middle of doing something––I, of course, called total bull on that––and I’m so happy to have caught you two.”

“Dane,” You said as you drug out the vowels in his name.

His laughter rumbled through the room. Even though Dane was the person you were closest to on Shawn’s crew, it was still embarrassing to have been caught in a compromising position with your boyfriend. It felt like you were fifteen.

“I’ll be out in ten,” Shawn answered.

Dane’s laughter died down as you heard his footsteps carry themselves back over towards the door, “I’ll put a timer on, Oh, and Y/n––“ you could hear the smirk on his lips, “––I hope to see you on the sidelines, preferably with a shirt on.”

You dug your head into the crook of Shawn’s neck as you felt all of the blood rush to your face. Your hands were still tightly hanging onto the back of Shawn’s shirt for the next few minutes as he stayed in his position on top of you.

“At least it was Dane?”

At his weak attempt of lightening up the mood, you pushed him off and sat up on the couch, “At least?! He saw me without a shirt!”

“I covered you up!”

You shot a glare toward his direction as you got up from the couch and searched for your shirt. It was crumpled up in a ball on the coffee table. You let out a deep sigh, of course your shirt was thrown somewhere that was obvious. Lifting the shirt up by the sleeves, you frowned as you examined all of the wrinkles.

“Here,” Shawn was already walking over to his duffle bag, “You can wear my shirt––“

“I’m––No,” you answered him as you tugged on your shirt, “I’d rather wear a wrinkled shirt than have Dane point out that I’m in one of your shirts.”

“But––“

“Let’s go,” you were a few steps away from the door as you held your hand out for him to take, “I want to pick a snack from the vending machine before the game.”

Shawn let out a sigh and grumbled something about how he loved seeing you in his shirts, but he still took ahold of your hand. The two of you walked out the dressing room as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. A small smile overtook his face.

The two of you walked toward the backstage part of the arena where the vending machines were held. You brought up a finger to your chin, debating on what snack to pick, as the vending machine lights illuminated your face. Once you decided what snack you wanted, you pressed a knuckle to the letter L and then to the number 3.

You watched with excitement as the circular black rings slowly pushed your snack forward. And then as it was finally tipping over the edge, you smiled as the bag fell with a soft fmmp as it reached the bottom of the machine. You let go of Shawn’s hand to retrieve your snack from under the plastic black flap.

“Cheetos?” Shawn questioned just as you stood up and opened up the bag with a loud crinkle, “If I’d known you’d want Cheetos, I could’ve like added it to my rider and it would’ve been in the dressing room for you.”

You shrugged your shoulders as you held out the bag, offering your Cheetos to Shawn. He dug his hand into the bag and took one out. He popped it into his mouth with a loud crunch as he closed his eyes, “God, it’s been forever since I’ve had these.”

Shawn led you out of the vending machine room as you continued to share your Cheetos with him, “I remember having them as a snack after soccer games,” you shared, “You know how parents would sign up to bring snacks after games? I feel like every parent would buy that big value size pack of like twenty-four different chips, and I––“ you licked your fingers that were covered in Cheeto dust, “––Always picked Cheetos.”

Shawn tilted his head back in laughter as he pushed open a back exit door and held it open for you to walk through, “I was always more of a Fritos guy.”

You scrunched your nose up, “Fritos?”

“They’re good!” Shawn defended himself as the people from the tour crew, who were playing in the soccer match, came into view, “Don’t knock ‘em ’til you try ‘em.”

You scoffed, “There are literally dozens of other chips you could chose from,” you stopped walking when you and Shawn came up to the sideline his ‘team’ was on, “Doritos, Lays, Chex Mix––“

“Hey, Y/n!” Your eyes widened as you heard Dane yell out your name. His feet hit the pavement hard as he ran over, “Glad you could make it––fully clothed.” While he was talking in a calm soft voice, not raising it to cause suspicion, it still made Andrew’s head perk up.

“You caught them?” Andrew looked up from tying his shoes at Dane.

You blushed as Shawn’s manager looked between the two of you and then back at Dane as you tried to defend yourself, “He didn’t really see anything––“

“See any of what?” Brian had jogged over and started to stretch, lunging on his left leg as he reached down to touch the toes on his right foot.

“It was nothing––“

“Just Shawn and Y/n going at it in the dressing room,” Dane shrugged as he gave you a wink, “Boyfriend, girlfriend stuff.”

Andrew’s shoulders slumped as he reached over to his bag and pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to Dane, “I’m his day-to-day,” Andrew grumbled, “Can’t believe it was the merchandise manager who caught you two first.”

You stood there dumfounded, hand frozen in your bag of Cheetos. You and Shawn kept your relationship as private as possible––private from the media, your social medias, and made sure to keep your PDA to a minimum when you visited him on tour. So it was a bit comical to see how intrigued Andrew and Dane were in catching the two of you.

Brian straightened up from his stretching and held a fist out toward Shawn, “Sweet, man––Just like Denver last tour?”

Your bag of Cheetos dropped to the ground, the little you had left of your snack spilled, covering the pavement with an artificial orange color. You felt the heat of your oncoming blush rise up to your cheeks. With Brian being Shawn’s best friend, you had an inclination that he knew some––if not most––of your sexual relationship with Shawn. Which you were fine with because you told your best friend almost everything.

But it was always a topic you never discussed between the two of you. It was mutually understood that while you talked to your best friend’s about each other, you would never talk about it directly to each other. Shawn talked to Brian about you; You talked to your best friend about Shawn. But never would your best friend bring it up in front of Shawn. And never––did you think––Brian would bring it up in front of you.

The same thought seemed to be stirring within Shawn’s head as his eyes widened for a second. He was only shocked for a split second more before he let out a chuckle and returned the fist bump to Brian and chose to ignore his comment about what happened Denver, “Thanks, man.”

“Thanks man?!” You turned to face Shawn who had an amused smirk on his face.

You weren’t mad at the display of masculinity in front of you, in fact, you saw the humor in it, but it was still embarrassing having your boyfriend be congratulated in front of you for hooking up.

The sound of a high pitch whistle echoed off the pavement. With the sound of the start whistle, and players heading toward the makeshift field, it took away any chance you had of laying into Shawn more.

Brian ran away laughing, escaping the choice words you had for him, which just left you with Shawn. You crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and tore your head away from Shawn as he lifted a finger under your chin to try and get you to look at him.

“Good luck kiss?”

With a playful sigh, you leaned up on your tip toes to press a peck to Shawn’s smile. His eyes were still closed when you pulled away and his smile grew wider, “You love me.”

“Unfortunately,” you said as you couldn’t fight Shawn’s contagious smile, “I love you a lot.”

Shawn let out a laugh as a few people hollered at him to come over, “How unfortunate for me,” he pressed another quick kiss to your lips before he started to walk backwards toward the game that had started without him, “Are you free tonight?”

You leaned your weight on your left leg as you tapped a finger on your cheek, “Hm…I’m watching my boyfriend sing at a little show,” Shawn stopped walking backwards, his full attention on you, and showed all his teeth in a grin, “But I’m free after.”

“It’s a date,” Shawn said before he spun around and ran toward the soccer ball.

#woot!!#some fluff #and a bit of teasing #:)#all in good fun #come tell me what you thought of it!! I love hearing what you all have to say!!#your messages make my day/night/mid-afternoon/whole year #🤩 🥰#thanks a million!!!#(the next piece of writing I post will be ANGST)#((or it'll be the prologue to my coffee shop au))#(((the angst needs some MAJOR editing so I think the prologue will come first lmao)))#which one would you want to read first?? okay im rambling I'll stop #enjoy!#Shawn mendes #Shawn Peter raul mendes #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes writings #Shawn Mendes writer #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes ff #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes x you #Shawn Mendes reader insert #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes one shot

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 4 years ago

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I’ve owned this blog for over 2 years now. I’m sick, emotional, and got shit to say...

In my sickness I haven’t been able to do much other than lay in bed and watch youtube/start a replay of twdg, but I also decided to go back through my blog.

It kind of just hit me that I’ve had this blog for over 2 years now.

I created it back in August of 2018 when I was literally just a ghost- liking, sometimes reblogging, and sending anons but too afraid to post anything of my own. I was starting to dabble in writing for this fandom but didn’t dare post any of the small stories I was writing.

Like... once upon a time, good ol’ dingus CJ was terrified to post her writing.

Shit, terrified to post anything.

I mean, I legitimately thought that if I posted any of the short stories I was writing, I would either be mocked due to my lack of experience within the community, or ignored completely because what I was writing wasn’t good enough compared to the other fics out there.

That was more than enough to make me trash everything I wrote.

Fun Fact: The very first story I wrote for the fandom was after playing ep1 for like the 5th time, back before ep2 released. It was about Clementine wandering down to the music room the night Marlon died to see Louis playing the piano. It was from her POV and how she watched him in the doorway. She wanted to make things right with him only for Louis to have a break down and start slamming on the keys. Eventually he grabbed a chair and smashed it over the piano. It ended with Clementine sneaking away undetected back to the dorms with plans to leave with AJ in the morning.

Angsty and bitter, yes. Anything I’d write today? Nooo.

I spent days going back and forth on whether or not I should post it only to delete it because bad.

I wrote other little fluffy drabbles that I never posted for similar reasons all while remaining a ghost in community.

Then ep2 came out.

Do y’all know what my very first post was...?

Which says a lot that it took them murdering Mitch for me to finally make my own nonsense and kick start everything. Thanks Telltale.

That was also when I wrote a story that y’all probably either forgot about or never heard of [which might be for the best tbh]: [when he smiled].

Oof.

Hahaha

There’s a whole story behind that one that involves hours of “Should I post it? No, I shouldn’t- well....” Then, a blog that to this day I deeply admire made a post asking for fic recommendations and I took it as a sign.

After spending another hour doubting myself, I finally quit being a baby and messaged them. We chatted, they read my story and honestly.... that really started everything.

As of today, I have written 51 individual stories.

I also have 4,685 posts on this blog, and yes, more than half of those are tagged #twdg louis. On top of that, we’ve done over 50 different themed nights and 4 challenges. Hell, we’ve even done a contest!

I have more friends and followers than I ever imagined like... what the fuck, y’all. When did that happen? This isn’t me being stupid or anything, I’m just a little overwhelmed looking through all this shit, remembering how this all started and realizing everything we’ve done in the past two years.

Like... I was so scared to talk to anyone in August 2018 hahaha

Now I’m constantly answering asks, chatting with buddies over messaging, I fucking stream games on Twitch [rip mixer] which is something I NEVER thought I would EVER do, and while I still have a lot of anxiety when it comes to posting stories it’s not nearly as bad as it once was.

What a fucking journey...

I don’t know why I’m writing this. I mean, I want to say thanks to everyone who has stuck around, to those who participate in the themed nights, to those who send me asks, and to those who merely follow me and enjoy the content. But I don’t really know if a small “thanks” really covers it, y’know?

When shit has really hit the fan here in the real world, whether it was shit with school or work or family or the scary shit going on right now, I’ve always had this blog to come to when I needed it. I’ve taken breaks when needed, too, and days where I thought about abandoning the blog because my anxiety tells me I’m not doing a good job, or I get a handful of nasty asks, or whatever.

But I’ve always come back because this is like a safe-space. It’s not perfect, but I love it. I love you guys. I love these games. I love the community.

I don’t think a simple “thank you” is sufficient but fuck, it’s what I got. I’m here for you guys, to chat about these games and discuss their characters, to gush over Louis and Clouis and everything else. I’m hear to work on my writing skills and finish my fics, even if I’m slowest dingus ever haha.

I’m just... I’m here. I’m here for you. I love having you here and I hope that while you’re following me, you’re enjoying the content, whatever it may be.

❤️I love you, and thank you ❤️

...Also, side note- going back and reading posts from when the episodes were coming out is so nostalgic. Like, it makes me smile but want to cry haha.

Reading through those posts brought up a lot of names that I never see anymore and that’s so bittersweet, y’know? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the thriving within the community of everyone theorizing about what would happen next and gushing about Louis and being so excited to see him again.

It’s so crazy haha

I miss it, but hey, it’s a good memory. And there’s always things to gush and theorize about here, so even if the community isn’t at the peak it once was, we still have fun here.

Okay, I’m done rambling.

I’m gonna go through my ask box and answer some stuff now. I just had some nostalgia while going through everything and well.... yeah. Hahaha

#hi i'm here to ramble about the blog #read my early posts from 2018 and it got me feeling things #bringing up memories and shit #excuse me i'm emotional #hahaha #gonna answer some asks now #because i've been asleep for most of the day #now i'm wide awake with nothing but muh piglet and tfs soundtrack to lighten the night #well and y'all

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kdfrqqg · 7 years ago

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Gifts under the tree -- Dec 8th

Pairing: Cas x Reader, with Jack, Dean and Sam

Word Count: 990

A/N: This was written for @webcricket advent challenge. Complete fluff. Today’s prompt was Inappropriate Holiday Gift. Did ya’ll know I love my Jack, I need him to have a mom figure.

Presents were lined up under the small decorated tree, there was a Crock-Pot full of hot chocolate in the kitchen and you were trying to shoo Dean away from the food.

“I don’t understand this holiday, (Y/N). Why are we celebrating someone else’s birthday by giving others gifts?” Jack asked trying to figure out why you were making a fuss over just one day.

You giggled, “Well I guess when you’re God’s grandson, you have a different perspective on our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Christmas is a time of being together with the ones you love, and to be thankful for everything that we have. And I’m thankful for you.” Smushing his cheeks like you were an annoying Aunt.

“I’m thankful for you too.” He told you pulling you into a firm hug.

Jack helped you scoop out four cups of hot chocolate setting them on a tray for serving. It was a tradition in your family to have hot chocolate when you opened Christmas presents.

“Hey Jack why don’t you go first?” You announced as you walked out of the kitchen. “I might have gone a little overboard with his gifts.” You whispered to Sam and Dean.

You sat down on the ground with Jack and handed him gift after gift. He was thrilled to get all the new clothes, a wallet, some video games and he even liked the teddy bear that you bought for him when Kelly was still pregnant.

“Thank you so much! My mom would be happy that I have you.” Jack told you.

“You’re so welcome baby.” You kissed his sweet little face trying not to cry.

“Ok, (Y/N), you’re up next.” Dean said smiling at how happy having Jack home was making you. “This one is from me.”

“Oooo, I wonder what this is?” You shook the box because with Dean, you never knew what you would get. The red and gold wrapping paper was torn and thrown on the floor as you opened the white box. “Oh these are so nice.” It was a pair of the softest sleep pants and fuzzy slippers.

“Yeah, so now you might stop stealing mine.” Dean let slip with a chuckle.

You were famous for taking Dean’s PJs bottoms out dryer and wearing them all the time around the bunker. “Yeah not likely!” you giggled shaking your head, now you had two pairs of pants.

“(Y/N/N), I got you this one.” Sam handed you a heavy bag.

You pulled the tissue paper out and there were four books by your favorite author, “These are great! Jackie-poo, you and I are going to read these together.” You pulled him in your lap so you could play with his hair.

“Are you done mothering him?” Dean sarcastically asked.

“No, never. You’re just jealous.” You told him.

“There is still one more. This one is from me.” Cas told you as he gave you a bag. Jack sat up, and you wondered what an angel gives a human.

You pulled the first piece of tissue out, spotting something pink and silky. You reached your hand in feeling the softcup of a nightgown. The further you went the more your face contorted, touched something long and phallic. You sucked your lips into your mouth before you spoke, “Um Cas, what store did you get this stuff from?”

“Why is there a problem? The radio ad said that it was where fantasy and fun came together and that I would find all the items that the lady in my life would like.” He explained. You bit back a laugh, as Dean and Sam almost spit out their hot chocolate, they were laughing so hard.

“I gotta see what’s in here.” Dean stole the gift from your hands. You didn’t protest since they already were aware that Cas had purchased you something very inappropriate. Dean looked in, “Whoa Cas! Now that’s a bold statement. My man!” Dean high fived Cas but poor Cas looked perplexed as to why Dean would be excited over your gift.

You moved over to Cas and sat on your knees as he sat in the chair, “Sweetie,” You gave him a friendship peck on the lips, “these are more the type of gifts you give your girlfriend, wife, or mistress and we are just friends.”

“I know we are just friends but the sales lady said that since I’m gone a lot and you miss me when I’m away that some of these items would help you not be so lonely. Also I liked the feel of that piece of clothing, it was soft like you and I thought you would look pretty in pink.” You grinned as he explained why he bought those items.

Dean passed the bag to Sam and he just made an interesting face when he saw the vibrator and other sex toys in the bottom of the bag. “Cassie, let me explain,” You paused trying to find the right words, “these are not the kinda gifts you give to someone publically and they are definitely not appropriate to give to someone who you are not romantically interested in.”

“Who says I’m not romantically interested in you?” He questioned and you dropped your jaw.

“You like me?” You asked. “You like me, like me?”

“Yeah, I like you. I like you very much. You are smart, nice and you are a great mom to…” Cas confessed. You didn’t need to hear anything more, you lifted your whole body up and tenderly grabbed his face, cutting him off mid speech before you planted a wet kiss on his chapped lips.

You ripped the bag out of Sam’s hands, “Give me that! Jack, we’ll read together later ok?” Jack nodded. “Your father and I need to go make some Christmas memories of our own.” You pulled Cas out of his chair by his tie as he followed you down the hall.

I love all the likes and reblogs but I really do want your feedback. Please leave me a comment; let me know what worked or what didn’t. If you hated it let me know what I could do different. It may determine how I write my next fic.

“Give it to me! You know you want to!” Writer winks at reader.

MY MASTER LIST Thanks for reading! Send me an ASK if you want to be tagged.

Everything @bandobsession98 @greenappleeyes @honeybeetrash @chaos-and-the-calm67 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @xdifsx @winchesters-favorite-girl @queen-of-deans-booty @notnaturalanahi @justanotherdeangirl @samwinjarpad @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @drakkie-blog @geekgirl1213 @sophiebobzz @emoryhemsworth @lucifer-in-leather

Reader insert @jensen-jarpad

Cas only @webcricket @angelsdeadromance

Dean only @akshi8278

#cricketsspnadvent2017 #cas x reader fluff #cas x reader #cas #castiel #jack kline #dean #dean winchester #sam #sam winchester #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic

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spine-buster · 7 years ago

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Chapter 13 - The Beginning and the End of Everything (Finn Balor)

@wrestlewriting @wrasslin-x @thegenericluchadora @fan-fiction-galore @anerdysouthernbelle @spot-of-bother @amaranthine-reign @baleesi @flnnbalor @smuppies @sarahmatthews7 @daintymissdevitt @newjapan @corey-renee @running-ropes @balorsomega @karleedaniels27 @kazuchika @ileana0300 @alexahood21 @imnobodiesbitch @fembxt @heelturn-timesten @kaitlynwwefan @50shadesofadamcolebaybay @50shadesofkennyomega @chasingeverybreakingwave @thyestean-feast @thecandicej @devittsbalor @sp00kylesley @danahart @sietefinns @kaydee-kayyyy @powerbombshell @swedish-strong-style @blondekel77 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @artgurl559-blog

QUICK A/N: I know I haven’t in the past but I’m going to start using my regular tag list for this story for all future chapters. Feel free to like and reblog and let people know about this story! I’m sure there are a bunch of Balor fans I’m not tagging that might enjoy something like this.

And now, sadly, on to the first awful breaking news of the year…we have gotten word, and now confirmation, that hockey player and Olympic gold medalist Gemma Fitzgerald has been forced to retire due to her knee injury. Last August, Fitzgerald suffered a complete rupture of her ACL, a torn MCL, and a litany of other tears and ruptures in her knee after she crashed into the boards after an altercation with Amanda Robinson of Team USA. She has been quietly attending physiotherapy in Orlando, Florida, but after a recent evaluation, doctors concluded that her knee will never fully recover enough to be able to play hockey at an elite level. Fitzgerald, best known as the woman to score the ‘golden goal’ for Team Canada at the Olympics, will be holding a press conference at 3pm today to discuss the shocking news.

Fergal was practically in tears as he watched Gemma’s press conference live. She had flown back to Toronto with her doctors the day before. A large conference room at a hotel was set up and filled to the brim with reporters for the press conference. At the table, she sat in the middle, flanked by her doctor, her surgeon, Diane, and the general manager for the women’s national hockey team. After a prepared statement, she was forced to answer question after question from the litany of reporters. Her voice was dull, emotionless, and her eyes were empty. He could tell she was still having a hard time, that she felt dead inside despite being in a room full of people.

He didn’t know how she was doing it; how she was keeping it all together, after having to repeat details of her injury, why exactly she couldn’t play again, all the minute details reporters kept asking about. He knew if it were him, he wouldn’t be able to do it. He’d send out a statement and that’s it. Who would want to face all those questions? Who would want to relive the injury over and over again? It was absolute torture.

Rami had been texting him. He was watching the press conference live, too, and was upset at what was unfolding. Not to the degree of Fergal, of course, but upset nonetheless. He shared Fergal’s sentiments of this being absolute torture for Gemma and how the media should ease up. ‘But they won’t,’ he told Fergal, ‘because the hockey media in Toronto is just as bad as it is in Montreal.’ When the press conference ended Fergal wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He thought about making himself something to eat but he wasn’t very hungry; even if he was, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to hold it down. He thought about watching stupid cat videos, or soccer highlights from the European leagues; anything to get his mind off things. That only lasted so long. Before he knew it he was on Twitter, going through the tag of Gemma Fitzgerald and reading what fans and journalists alike were writing.

Gemma Fitzgerald is the reason why my daughter put on a pair of skates. She’s the reason my daughter sees herself as a future hockey player.

Fitzgerald is the best of her generation, and although he career was cut short, the argument could be made she was in the top 10 of all time.

Sad day for hockey in general, not just women’s hockey. Fitzgerald’s better than a lot of NHLers. This is horrible news.

Robinson now has a target on her back. She should be banned from ever playing again. Everyone knew what she did was deliberate.

Fitzgerald has inspired so many little girls. Her power is truly beyond hockey. What sad news.

And then, Fergal’s phone rang. He expected it to be Rami or someone else but was shocked to see Gemma’s name flash across his screen. He answered it so hurriedly he almost dropped it on the floor. “Gemma.”

“Hey,” she sounded exhausted. “Uh, how are you?”

“How are you?” Fergal asked, completely ignoring her question.

“Not good,” she admitted to him, the faintest crack in her voice. “It’s…it’s a lot.”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m in a hotel room,” she said. “In the same hotel we had the press conference. God, it was so fucking hard.”

“I can imagine.”

“Like, you’d think that the statement by the doctors would answer any and all questions they would have, but apparently not,” she complained. “God, they practically made me relive the last five months over and over again until they sucked all the blood out of me.”

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” he said. He didn’t really know what else to say. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Fergal automatically knew she was crying. “Ferg…” she managed to choke out.

“Gemma, come on, tell me,” he urged her.

“I feel like my life is over,” she was full out crying at this point. “I can never play hockey again Ferg. Ever. What if someone told you you could never wrestle again? Your life would be over! Your world would be shattered! No press conference or reassuring words from your doctors or hugs from your mom and dad would be able to make you feel better!” she began to freak out and ramble like she did the night he brought her back to his place and she saw the bruise she gave him. “I just feel so empty, like nothing is going to be able to fill me up again. I lived and breathed hockey and now I can’t play it anymore. I’ll be so close yet so far. I’ll be able to skate but I can’t do drills. I can hold a stick and put on my uniform but I can’t…I can’t…”

“Shhhhhh,” he tried to get her to calm down, though he was thousands of miles away. God, all he wished was to be by her side right now, hugging her. “Gemma, it’s all going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that. Everybody keeps saying that. What I need everybody to realize is that it’s not going to be okay. If I’m not playing hockey it’s not okay,” she stressed. “The one thing I love most in this world has been ripped away from me. I don’t know how I’m ever going to get over it.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now…but you will,” Fergal tried to offer some words of encouragement, although he knew they would probably have no effect. “I mean…fuck, that came out wrong. You’re never going to fully get over it, and that’s okay. But you can find other ways to love hockey besides playing the game. Listen, you’re always going to love hockey, and hockey is always going to be a part of your life.”

She was silent on the other end, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she was soaking up his words or because she was trying to compose herself and stop crying. Probably the latter. He probably wasn’t saying anything to help her feel better. “Ferg?”

“Mhm?”

“I don’t know what I did in this life to deserve you telling me all these nice things when I’m at the lowest I’ve ever been…but I just want to let you know that even if I don’t show it…I do appreciate it.”

A small smile crept its way onto his face. “Anything for you, Gemma.”

“Can I…can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“The Toronto Maple Leafs…they’re going to be honouring me this Saturday, on Hockey Night in Canada, before the face the Canadiens,” she began. “I’ve gotta make this speech, but my family…Jane…I mean, we’re all getting a private box to hang out in afterwards. I just…I need you there. Can you come?”

It was an automatic yes. There was no way he would have said no.

Fergal had been in his fair share of arenas before, but tonight, Saturday night at the Air Canada Centre, everything just felt…different.

Despite the gruelling press conference Gemma still had more media to do. He was able to watch reruns and live interviews on TV sets at various locations he found himself in, but he found it extremely hard to watch. Knowing how Gemma was feeling, knowing how hard this was for her…it almost made him sick. But now, at the Air Canada Centre, she was forced to put on a brave face. She was gracious to everyone, forcing a smile, shaking hands and posing for pictures. She looked exhausted. Fergal knew she was exhausted.

They finally got five minutes alone together about half an hour before the ceremony was supposed to begin. Fergal made sure to take her aside before things got started.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked, holding her elbow lightly.

“Surprisingly, yes,” she nodded her head.

“Are you sure?”

“I just gotta make sure I don’t cry during my speech, because if I know I do I won’t be able to stop,” she chuckled, trying to make herself laugh.

“Is there something I can do? Do you…I don’t know, do you want me down there on the ice or something?”

“Only my parents are gonna be on the ice with me,” she told him. “Jane isn’t even gonna be there, cause if Jane’s there then the whole team has to be there, you know? Gotta keep in minimal.”

“Okay, sure,” he acquiesced, nodding his head. “You sure there isn’t something I can do?”

Gemma smiled briefly. “You’re fine, Ferg. You being here is already enough.”

As if on cue, Gemma’s name was called from the opposite end of the hallway. Both Gemma and Fergal looked to see another brunette walking towards them. She was moving quickly, wearing a nice pair of fitted black pants and a navy blazer over a Toronto Furies t-shirt, which Fergal assumed had ‘Fitzgerald’ written on the back. “Hey babe,” Gemma smiled slightly.

“Hey hun,” the woman smiled, looking over to Fergal briefly. “This must be the infamous Fergal Devitt.”

“You’re right,” Gemma nodded her head. “Ferg, this is my best friend Jane Hounslow. Jane, Fergal.”

Fergal stuck out his hand and Jane shook it strongly. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Fergal said. “Gemma’s told me so much about you.”

“Likewise,” Jane smiled wryly.

Jane wanted to say something else, judging by the look on her face, but Gemma quickly nipped that idea in the bud when she saw Jane’s smile. “Anyway, you can wait in the box with Jane,” she said quickly. “And I’ll be up there after my speech. I assume that’s why you came to find me? I need to be somewhere?” Gemma asked Jane.

“Larry Tanenbaum wants to take some photos,” Jane nodded her head.

“Alright, fine. I’ll see you guys later, then,” Gemma said as she began to walk away. She paused for a moment before turning back to Jane. “Soyez pas bizzare,” she shot to Jane. [[Don’t be weird]]

“I can’t promise anything,” Jane winked back. Gemma snorted and shook her head, continuing to walk away. Jane looked back at Fergal, another wry smile on her face. “You and I have a lot to learn about each other.”

Fergal barely made it through the video package tribute that was shown to the arena. They had compiled every major highlight, clips of interviews from when she was just starting professional hockey at 18 years old, clips of her coaches and teammates singing her praises, clips of little girls saying how cool and amazing she was and how they wanted to be just like her while waving Canada flags and wearing her jersey. It was very emotional. When the video package ended, they cut to a few people in the crowd who were already in tears; a quick shot of the owner’s box, where Brendan Shanahan and Lou Lamoriello were on their feet clapping; a group of girls, each wearing a Team Canada Fitzgerald jersey, their dads sitting between them.

The standing ovation Gemma received as she walked out on to the ice was deafening. The cheering and clapping didn’t stop for a good few minutes. He, Jane, her parents – they were all on their feet, following suit, clapping and cheering and wiping tears away, just like everyone else. Eventually, the crowd stopped clapping and cheering, and let Gemma say her speech.

“Thank you to the Toronto Maple Leafs organization and the Montreal Canadiens organization for hosting me and organizing this tribute tonight. As everyone in this arena and everybody watching knows, hockey is a team sport. Therefore, I would like to thank my teammates from the Toronto Furies and the women’s national hockey team for being an endless source of support and strength during these last five months, and in particular these last few days. I’d also like to thank my team of doctors, my physiotherapist Diane, and everybody down at the rehab clinic in Florida for taking such good care of me. I will readily admit that I haven’t been the easiest person to be around these last five months, and they have been working miracles to get me back on my feet.

All I’ve ever wanted to do was play hockey. When I was a little girl watching Hockey Night in Canada with my parents, I immediately fell in love with the game and the magic of it all. I remember telling my parents, my extended family, cousins, anybody who would listen, that I was going to be a hockey player – I was going to be the next Cassie Campbell, I was going to be the next Hayley Wickenheiser. Don Cherry and Ron McLean wouldn’t be able to stop talking about how good I was. To an extent I accomplished those dreams, but I still feel like there could have been so much more to do, so much more to accomplish.

Despite my premature retirement I feel a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude that for eight long years I was able to play hockey professionally; gratitude that I was able to represent my country at the World Championships and the Olympics; gratitude that I was able to create my own magical moment for fans when we won the gold medal; gratitude that my teammates have been with me every step of the way. I want to end this speech by addressing one group in particular. To all the little girls in the crowd and watching at home who live and breathe hockey like I do, I want to say one thing: I see you. I see you, and your passion, and your commitment, your tenacity and your hard work, and I encourage you, I implore you, I DEMAND you follow your dreams. It could be you one day, scoring a golden goal for Team Canada, inspiring millions of other girls across this nation to pursue their dreams. You are the future of this sport. Make it what you want to see.

Support women’s hockey. Support the dreams, the hard work, and the dedication of women’s hockey players. This may be my end as a player, but this does not mean the hockey world has seen the last of Gemma Fitzgerald.”

The entire arena was on their feet again as Gemma finished her speech and saluted the crowd. The teams, still on their respective benches, began knocking their sticks against the boards in respect. Two runners came to clear the podium away, and the captains from each team skated towards Gemma for the ceremonial puck drop. After a polite photo op, she dropped the puck, shook the captains’ hands, and made her way backstage.

She eventually made her way up to the private box, and was greeted with warm hugs by everybody. Not wanting to talk about anything or go over what she just did, she settled on Fergal’s left side, while Jane was on his right, and they focused on watching the game, explaining things to him and screaming about penalties like any fans would.

The Leafs ended up winning 4-3 in overtime, which made Gemma happy, at least briefly. When it was time to go, Fergal began saying his goodbyes to Jane, James, and Nabilah, but the feeling of Gemma gripping his elbow stopped him.

“I’m just gonna make sure Fergal gets back to his hotel safely,” Gemma said to her parents, who were obviously expecting her to go home with them. “He doesn’t know this part of the city and I don’t want him getting lost in the crowd.”

“Well…okay,” Nabilah nodded her head, not really having much of a choice. “Are you going to take a taxi home?”

“Yeah mamma, don’t worry.”

“It was nice to see you again, Fergal,” James shook his hand. “Maybe we’ll see you again before you go back down to Florida.”

“Yeah, for sure,” he nodded, unable to keep his eyes off of Gemma, who was essentially ditching her family to ‘make sure he got to his hotel room safely’. What did that even mean? He knew exactly where his hotel was – he was a big boy, he had Google Maps, he had the Uber app. Did she want to talk about something? Did he do something wrong? Did someone say something to her?

“It was really nice to finally meet you,” Jane’s voice stopped his thoughts from going in to overdrive. Gemma was working something out with her parents and he had no clue how long he had been staring at her. “I have to get back home, but like James said, hopefully I’ll see you again before you leave for Florida.”

“Thanks. It was really nice to meet you too,” Fergal said, leaning in for a hug.

Jane readily reciprocated. “I can see why Gemma’s become so attached to you,” she said, only loud enough for him to hear.

Before he could ask what she meant by that, another tug came at his arm. “Ready?” Gemma beckoned.

“Ready.”

The walk back to the hotel room took all of five minutes. By the time they left and were walking the streets, the crowd from the hockey game had dispersed, so Gemma wasn’t recognized or bothered at all. To Fergal’s confusion, they barely spoke, Gemma mainly just directing him where to go and asking what floor he was staying on. There was so much to say, so much that could be said, but nothing.

When he opened the door with his keycard, Gemma made her way in. Fergal followed close behind, but deliberately took his time, watching her as she paced at the edge of the bed a few times before finally sitting on it. When she finally locked eyes with him, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was keeping in. “You’re okay with me being here, right?” she asked.

“Of course,” Fergal said softly. “Do you really need to ask?”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

Fergal waited a few moments before asking what he thought needed to be asked. “Do you want to talk about something?”

Gemma shook her head. “No. I don’t want to talk. I’m sick of talking,” she said. “I managed to keep it together for the ceremony, now I’m just going to leak, if you don’t mind.”

Fergal half-expected that was coming. But the fact that she was comfortable doing it in front of him rather than Jane or her parents was something he didn’t expect. “Leak away,” he said as he sat down beside her.

She started to cry automatically. It was like a tap. Tears just started free flowing and she buried her head in her hands. Fergal did the only thing he could think of doing, which was hug her. Almost immediately she melted into him, grasping at him and crying on his shoulder. He let her cry, words escaping him, as there was nothing really left to say. She’d had a rough day, and he wasn’t about to make it rougher; he just wanted it to end as comfortably for her as possible.

Eventually he came to the realization that she wasn’t going home; that she would be staying here, with him, in his hotel room, because she wasn’t going to stop crying anytime soon. He moved to bring her closer to the pillows, and moved to take off his sport jacket to make himself just a bit more comfortable. Gemma began wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and he moved as quickly as possible so she wouldn’t feel deserted for too long.

When he lay back down beside her, she latched on to him again. He moved closer to her and grabbed at her hand, clutching it against his chest. After a while, her crying stopped, her breathing softened, and she was fast asleep against him. Fergal could only hope that, in her sleep, she wouldn’t relive the pain of the last few days.

#finn balor #finn balor fic #finn balor fan fic #finn balor fan fiction #finn balor fanfic #finn balor fanfiction #wwe #wwe fic #wwe fan fic #wwe fan fiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wrestling #wrestling fic #wrestling fan fic #wrestling fan fiction #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fanfiction #baeoe series

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fuckyeahrp · 8 years ago

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RP Rules

Ripping this almost line for line off of a new, much more prepared RPer mate of mine: https://reportsduemonday.tumblr.com/ CloveeD, you’re probably the only person that will see this for the foreseeable future, ahaha, but I suppose I could use this as a base for any serious RP I have in the future so it’s a brilliant thing to make! Gosh if you ever have the time, I’d love to talk to you about how to make a well thought out RP blog like yours @_@

Roleplaying Information

Name: Alex

Pronouns: She/Her, He/Him (given to fluctuation, as such I’m fine with anyone using They/Them for simplicity sake when I haven’t otherwise specified a desire for folks to exclusively use of either He/Him or She/Her pronouns when referring to me.)

Fandom Activities: I roleplay and write fanfiction more than anything else (the later I need to get back into tbh) but also draw (need to start posting fan art)

I’m open to collabs, never really done that tho? Message me! I don’t bite. Hard.

Main Blog: I would only feel inclined to share this if asked by a fellow RP mate that I’ve been writing with for a while already and trust with a more personal connection. If this is somehow an issue, message me and we can work it out.

Art Blog: pending

AO3: pending rebranding

Fandom Blog: Fuck Yeah I Ship It (not exclusive to Stucky, that’s just the majority of what I’ve recently posted…)

(I’ve honestly just finished a major life milestone that kept me from drawing and writing much, so I have to get back into the swing of producing my own creative content as opposed to just lazily reblogging shit off mobile)

Rules

I prefer roleplaying using email (again, message me) or this blog. I tend to find folks (when I seek out RPing) off Omegle, probably because I haven’t yet discovered a more reliable website (if there is something like Omegle out there for folks wanting to RP that isn’t a group chat then I’m happy to hear suggestions).

I almost exclusively write in 3rd person with the exception of italicized internal thoughts where necessary or characteristic of the RP/character. Past or present tense, but hopefully just one tense throughout the life of the specific RP. 1-3 paragraph responses given I have enough inspiration or intent to build off of and or responses aren’t just simple back and forth dialogue.

I may drop an RP thread if any of the following occurs

- I feel as though there is no plot development or hope for advancement in the story/world created

- I feel as though I am carrying the story or simply matching short, un-involved or uninspired responses

- There are chronic, long delays between responses (mitigated usually only by really interesting plots and long replies. Of course I understand that life happens, you can’t reply for a day or two, but if I’m getting one response every three days for the rest of the RP then I’m going to lose momentum and interest. Much of what motivates me to keep RPing is my excitement over your responses, development of character and plot. If you’ve hooked me on one of those fronts then I’ll reply more frequently and with longer posts)

- One or more of my hard-no’s is utilized in story without prior discussion.

- There is no open discussion/dialogue between yourself and myself to remedy any of the above factors

If I think of more I might add to this but I think that’s the gist of it.

I don’t really follow for follow, if there is something about your blog that piques my interest then I may follow, but don’t just expect it. My following someone is interest based, not some odd unspoken social media obligation.

Ask Box and Messaging should be open, feel free to message me whenever! I keep strange hours though so bear with me.

Never hesitate to share your RP Rules with me if we’ve started or plan on starting an RP together, I will make an effort to read and know your rules and hope you do the same with mine (I mean you’ve already gotten this far in this post, might as well right? haha)

The Yeses

Genres: Action, Adventure, Crime & Gangster, Drama, Epics, Fantasy, Science Fiction

Themes: Character development, world building, angst/dark plot, fluffy/light/sweet plot, porn with plot

Alternate Universes: ABO, Mpreg, BDSM, Harry Potter/Hogwarts, Pacific Rim, Magical Creatures (vampire, werewolf, harpy, siren, centaur, fawn, mermaid or other hybrid animal-humanoid AUs), Cyborg/Robot (one character as AI or part machine), Human (for fantastical or Sci-fi fandoms such as a No-Powers AU for an Avengers or Harry Potter/FBAWTFT centric RP), Powers (for non-powered or “normal person” fandoms), College, Mob/Mafia, Cam!Boy, Royalty/Prince/Princess, Arranged Marriage

AUs are pretty fun, I’m sure there are some I missed, just pose an idea and we can see if we can make it work!

Kinks: Note that these should always be negotiated, either before starting an RP (if planning one together), made clear in the prompt or easily extrapolated from prompt or worked out in dialogue between yourself and me before working it into an existing and continued RP. Power bottom, topping from the bottom, impact play, sensory play, breath play, feminization, crosdressing, orgasm denial, bondage, sensory deprivation, praise, humiliation, voyeurism, anonymous sex (glory holes), fake but perceived “public use” or “gang bang” (as in character A likes the idea of being used by multiple folks but perhaps character B is too possessive to actually hand them off to a group of people), double penetration, cock rings, ring gags, age difference (everyone is of legal consenting age), deepthroating, breath play, pillow princess, sex toys, dub-con, sex pollen, heats/ruts, cum play, magic involvement and I’m sure more I’m sure, just ask me.

The Maybes

Genres: Comedy

Themes: Minor character death

Alternate Universes: High School (age difference and Teacher x Student is a major slippery slope, also see The Hard No’s)

Kinks: Why these are Maybes and not Yeses or Hard No’s is contingent on the context of the RP, when in doubt, ask me and we can work something out. Violence, torture, psychological abuse, physical abuse, psychological disturbances, drug use (consensual or not), non-con, fuck-or-die, blood play, gang bang, gang rape, prostitution/forced prostitution, public use “period realistic” or homophobia realistic to a character’s personality and more. Like always, its a negotiation, just ask.

The Hard No’s

Genres: Horror, War/Politics (fandom specific, message me), Westerns (only exclusion is some Westworld AU or the like)

Themes: Major character death, porn without plot (these just seem to die or loose interest much too fast), wangst centric plot

Alternate Universes: De-Aged, TinyCharacterA (as in one of the characters is super small for some reason and everything else is normal sized)

Kinks: Eating disorders, psychologist/doctor x patient, religion, incest, grossly under age, self harm, scat/feces/piss, necrophilia and I’m sure to add to any and all of these categories.

My fandoms of interest

Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Marvel, DC, Star Trek, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Pacific Rim, Mad Max Fury Road, Sherlock, Game of Thrones, Westworld, Super Girl, The Flash, One Punch Man, Yuri on Ice, Attack on Titan, Deadman Wonderland, Final Fantasy, Dragon Age Inquisition Overwatch and I’m going to leave it at that for now.

My Ships

A separate post with an in progress list of my ships can be found here

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