#interaction / chelsea rolland.

[htsdfferent]

@decimatlas to zelda !

the knock on her door is light. chelsea’s not even sure if zelda hears it at first, but she hears her voice through the door and knows she has. “it’s me.” she voices loud enough to be heard through the door, but quiet enough not to bother sam, who has his door cracked just an inch a few paces down. she twists the handle after she hears ‘ come in ’ faintly on the other side. the small gift wrapped box is pulled from her back pocket as the door clicks closed behind her. “hey ! i already gave the boys their presents, but i never got to give you yours.” a smile is pulled against her features as she sits against the other’s bed. she hands the box towards her, as she moves to pull her knee on top of the mattress. fingers touch softly against the necklace resting on her skin, knowing in just a short time her friend will have a matching one to wear whenever she’d like.

[decimatlas]

@htsdfferent gets a starter for Chelsea!

❛ So... ❜ She sips at her coffee, her hands clutching the large mug Chelsea had given her. ❛ You have the elusive Dean Winchester wrapped around your finger, and we're not gonna talk about it? ❜

[yllowpages]

❝ Don’t you ignore me. ❞

❝ Oi! ❞ But he'll do just that while he continues to face forward, eyes on the pitch in front of him, players zipping about back and forth. ❝ Monika! ❞ One of the many little girls ( Phoebe somewhere among them ) on the grass looks at him just long enough to take the instruction of, ❝ Stay on your mark! Don't fucking lose them! ❞ before she continues on with their training scrimmage. Some of the parents who have come to watch training shoot him hard looks for the language — not that Roy gives a shit.

He's really doing a pretty good job totally ignoring her, keeping his focus on his team, but Chelsea steps right in front of him, into his eyeline. ( Are all Americans like this? He hasn't met many of them, but a pattern is starting to rise. And it's right fucking annoying — no matter how friendly he is with them. ) A sort of growl or grumble rises in his throat, his dark brows finding a way to sink even lower over his eyes than they already had. She blocks his view enough that he has no choice but to ... acknowledge her, in a way only Roy can : ❝ I asked you to leave me the fuck alone, ❞ he reminds her — a signature Kent charm. ( Eyes stay on the pitch, however. )

@htsdfferent / chelsea rolland.

[halfblooms]

when it is all over, and i become a seed -- they'll plant me in the universe where the balance gotta be. now, I don't mind the dying, no. it's the way it's gotta be, but i hope i leave behind just a little bit of me.

independent, selective original muse chelsea rolland primarily set within the cw's supernatural, but can be placed in most fandoms. written by echo ( she / they, 25 ). ©. information.

this blog is 18+ only. please do not interact if you are a minor. personals do not interact.

[forhawkins]

      @decimatlas​  :    a starter for brock  !

      “wait  --  wait, no.”    fingers tighten against the pillow resting in her lap.  she shuffled her legs, pulling them from the previously crossed position and shifting them under her as she leans up on her knees.    “i’m going to get it this time.”    her arms cross against the pillow as she hugs it against herself.  her chin moving to rest against it.  green eyes peak from under her lashes, smiling at his encouraging smile.  eyes drop to the bed.    (  focus !  )    she lifts her head and lets her eyes find her wall.    “1603.  wait !  no.  1623.  macbeth was published in 1623.”    head turns quickly towards him, the end of her ponytail hitting against her cheek.  she pulls her hand from the pillow and brushed the stray hairs from their place against her chapstick.    “right ?  did i get it right ?”    she watches as he starts to nod.  his mouth starts to open, but she’s quickly tossing the pillow onto the floor and launching herself at the boy.    “i did it !”    her elbows rest softly against his shoulders as she brushes loose stray waves off his forehead.    “you !”    she presses a loud kiss to his forehead.    “are !”    another presses against his temple.    “the best,”    her lips press under his eye.    “boyfriend,”    then to the tip of his nose.    “ever.”    lips plant themselves next to his cupid’s bow, before she’s pulling back slightly.  her fingers twist softly against his hair before she’s letting them brush to the back of his head. 

      “sorry.  i got excited !”

[htsdfferent]

❛   note .   give  my  muse  a  note  saying :   [ ◡̈ ] . / brock to chels... smh

@decimatlas !

“are you seriously not going to tell me anything about this date you’ve planned for us ?” eyebrows raise as her question is asked. he’d made her clear her schedule, told her he had a fun date planned, and then refused to give her any other details. ( it was driving her insane. ) forest hues watch as he slowly drags her notepad across the counter. previously raised brows furrow as he hunches over the counter. the large fake flower taped to the pen waves as he writes. before long he’s standing back to his full height. the top sheet is pulled from the pad, folded, and oh - so - slowly slid over to her. eyes narrow for a moment before she lifts the note. fingers unfold the paper, before she’s slamming her palm on the counter. “brock matteo emerson, i swear to god.” despite her annoyance, his laughter causes a smile to tug against her lips -- she does her best to fight it, she really does. 

[htsdfferent]

to chels from zelda: “i’m trying to do the right thing.”

@decimatlas !

chelsea nods softly at zelda’s words. her palm brushes gently against her hair. “i know you are. that’s the best thing anyone can do -- try.” she offers a sympathetic smile. “do you want a hug ?”

[htsdfferent]

✏️ chels and zelda

@decimatlas !

zelda : *makes chelsea a cup of tea but puts salt in it*

chelsea : *sips tea*

zelda : [ . . . ]

chelsea : *finishes tea*

zelda : didn’t it taste bad ?

chelsea : yeah, but i didn’t want to hurt your feelings so i drank all of it.

zelda, tearing up : oh, okay.

[htsdfferent]

to chelsea from brock: "my friend over there thinks you're cute." *runs across the room, strikes a pose, winks @ her*

@decimatlas wants me dead !

chelsea keeps her focus on the fresh bouquet in her hands -- placing them in different order until she feels it’s perfect. even when brock enters the store ( and loudly makes her aware of his presence ) she keeps her eyes focused on the flowers. the two share hello’s, but it’s clear brock is vying for her attention. she can see in her preferial vision, him picking up things on the counter, throwing ends of cut stems at her -- anything he can think of. but she persists, her eyes never trailing from the bouquet. until he speaks up again. ‘ my friend over there ’ she lifts a single brow. 

she doesn’t remember him announcing a friend, or the sound of someone walking around the store. she slightly glances up from the flowers, her eyes landing on him. there’s a goofy grin pulled against his features. ( the one she fell in love with the moment it was aimed at her -- even if she has to keep it to herself. ) her eyes glance around the small shop, finding it vacant at the moment. she returns her eyes to brock. her head tilts slightly as he finishes his sentence. “ what are you -- ” she doesn’t have time to finish her question, before she’s watching him run to the other side of the shop. her brows furrow for a moment, before he strikes a pose. 

a soft laugh leaves her lips. then, he winks. she feels butterflies swarm in her stomach. ( she’s been having that problem a lot recently. ) she shakes her head, moving her hair to hide the soft blush warming her cheeks. she grabs for a cut stem he had previous tossed at her, and launches it across the room at him. “ shut up. ” her head shakes again, as she returns her focus to the flowers in her hand. she ignores the little voices in the back of her mind screaming : ‘ please don’t ever stop saying things like that to me ’ and ‘ tell him he’s cute, too. ‘

[htsdfferent]

“I’m trying to move forward with my life.” ( to chelsea from bucky )

@yllowpages !

chelsea looks up from her spot on his floor. she shifts slightly to remove her legs from under her. a soft smile forms on her lips, as her eyes focus on him. their pasts are vastly different, but she still knows what it’s like to have your past brought up, and thrown back in your face. ( she knows how hard it can be to move on [ . . . ] to forgive yourself. ) her eyes fall from him, as they move back to the opened package of cookies sitting on his coffee table. “i know, and i’m very proud of you for focusing on that.” she shifts again as she stands up. she falls gently next to him, holding out a cookie to him. “but that doesn't mean you have to leave everything in the past. you can enjoy the happy memories [ . . . ] you should enjoy the happy memories.”

[decimatlas]

@htsdfferent sent a 🔪 for a hostile starter — Chelsea & Dean.

❛ Damn it, Chelsea! ❜ The palm of his hand connects with the nearest surface — in this case, a cobweb-covered wall — as he slams his hand down. Dean starts to pace around as he pinches the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and his thumb. This was not the plan. In fact, it was so far from the plan, he had to rethink his approach entirely. Her safety, after all, was his number one priority. Even if it meant letting this creature get away from them again. Still, he’s angry, and he makes it known through his slightly raised voice. It’s not loud enough to alert anything else that might be in the building with them, but it certainly gets his point across. ❛ What happened to stayin’ in the car? I told you to stay in the damn car! ❜

[decimatlas]

“ why? do you miss me? “ / crock .

❛ Well, duh. ❜ Brock speaks into the phone, positive that Chelsea can envision the exact face he’s making. He’s been pacing around his apartment as they were talking, but he soon flops onto his couch, making a rather dramatic sound effect as he does so. ❛ So, are you gonna come over, or am I gonna have to beg? Because I’m not above that, you know. ❜

[htsdfferent]

@decimatlas for brock !

her forearms ache. the heavy weighted axe sits within her hand, as she gently spins the handle within her palm. chelsea adjusts her neck, sighing softly as a soft crack echoes in the silence of the woods. she rolls her shoulders back, her free hand grabbing against the handle, as she lifts the heavy weapon over her head. she takes a deep breath, before she’s launching the weapon forward. she watches as it spins within the air for a moment, before the blade sticks within the bark of a tree. 

a small smile pulls against her lips, as she watches fragments of bark fall from the tree and onto the forest floor. her footsteps are light as she maneuvers through the fallen leaves towards her targeted tree. “you know, you’re not very conspicuous, brock.” her words are soft, just loud enough to ring through the trees to find him. she plants on foot next to her axe, as she rips the axe out in one pull. she wavers slightly, before she finds her footing again, spinning to find brock standing in her previous place. she does her best to suppress the smile threatening to break across her features, but as she moves her way closer to him, she lets it break out on her face anyway. “you ready for the big day ?” 

the sarcasm rings through her normally cheery voice, as she moves closer towards him. she uses one hand to shove the blade of her axe into a nearby tree, before she’s bending down to retrieve her bag, hidden within a small hole at the base of the tree. she glances up towards him, as she begins to pull items from her bag. she tosses an apple towards him, before slotting one of her own between her teeth. 

chelsea stands slowly, as she carefully removes the cloth wrapped around a small wooden figurine. her eyes glance towards him, as she gently gestures for him to raise his hand so she can place the hand-carved figurine of his own axe in his palm. 

[htsdfferent]

( dean puts a ribbon in chels’ hair as they wrap presents. )

“no, no, no, no. wait, you’re doing it wrong. you gotta -- here, let me help.” arms bracket across his shoulders, as her hands place themselves atop his. ( she briefly feels a memory stir, their positions flipped as he attempted to teach her how to play pool -- a game she already knew how to play. ) chelsea flips the hair from his shoulder with a yank of her head, as her chin rests softly on his newly freed shoulder.

fingers twist gently between his as she guides his hands in the christmas ribbon. “and, put your finger here,” she places his index finger between the ribbon, as she pulls it tight, the bow now placed neatly atop his gift wrapped box. “see !” a bright smile lights up on her features, as she offers him a short glance. a soft kiss is placed against the stubble on his cheek, as she pulls away. “i told you you could do it.” eyes roll softly at the grumbling that falls from his lips, before she’s sitting back in her own chair.

the room is silent for a moment, as she works on her own gift wrapping, before she feels fingers brushing through her hair. eyebrows lift softly. chelsea’s eyes lift from the present in front of her, as she offers dean a glance over her shoulder. “whatcha doing there, bud ?” two large hands place themselves on the sides of her head, as he refocuses her attention on her presents. ‘nothing, mind your own business.’ she doesn’t stop the snort that escapes her at his words, but other than that, she stays quiet.

tape is placed on her wrapping paper, as she feels the final pull of something tying her hair back. ( she doesn’t have to look. she knows it’s the christmas ribbon. the christmas ribbon covered in glitter. the christmas ribbon covered in glitter which is now tied in her hair. ) a huff of breath passes through her nose as she feels him lower himself behind her. his hands place themselves on either sides of her arms against the library table, his chin resting on her shoulder. her brows lift slightly, as she glances towards him, an amused smile toying on her lips. “am i pretty now ?”

/ @sburbanlegends.

[htsdfferent]

our muses are in a fight and have angry sex. / brock and chelsea. sigh.... these two....

@decimatlas !

it was bound to happen. every couple fights eventually, don’t they ? even if they’ve spent years pinning, waiting, wanting. even if they know each other better than the back of their own hand. even if they’re still in love with each other. fights happen -- chelsea is used to fights. what she isn’t used to is fights with him. ( over something so small, something they could easily find a compromise for. if only she'd let them. ) hands rake through her hair, ignoring the sharp pulls when the rings on her fingers the tangled in her hair. “god, you -- you’re just -- ” she’s not sure what she wants to say. 

hand fall from her hair and to her hips. ‘what ? i’m what, chelsea ?’ her jaw locks. she knows that tone. ( how many times has she heard it used during game nights ? ) he’s goading her, he’s challenging her. “you’re so goddamn frustrating.” maybe they’re spending too much time together -- or, maybe they’re just too alike. she watches as he mimics her stance, hands on his hips, a scoff falling from his lips. ‘and you can't compromise to save your life.’ her lips part at his words, her mouth hanging open as she stares at him. 

chelsea finds herself thinking of all the terrible fights she’s seen -- the ones she’s been a part of. uncompromising doesn’t even sting. ( he knows that. he would never hurt her -- not even in the middle of an argument. ) mouth closes, hands fall from their place, her shoulder relaxing for a moment as she studies him. 

they meet in the middle, as if a rubber band finally snapped, pulling them together. he’s still upset, she can tell by the force behind his kiss. she can tell by the feel of his teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “asshole,” is mumbled against his lips, and she’s fairly certain he calls her something back, but as his hand cups against her backside, she finds she doesn’t care. 

feet are lifted from the ground with ease, legs find rest around his waist -- oh, how many times they’ve ended up in this position. chelsea feels his hand trail up her back and into her hair. she’s only slightly embarrassed by the noise that strains from her throat as he pulls her hair. his lips press against her neck, and she shifts her hips against his. a winning smile pulls on her lips when she hears a groan fall from him. ( is this a competition ? ) a squeak falls from her lips as his teeth brush against her skin, before he’s tugging against the skin. “this argument is not over, just fyi.” a loud huff leaves her mouth as her spine hits against the doorframe. there’s a small pause, a shared look -- a confirmation they are both okay, before his lips are against hers again. 

[htsdfferent]

@decimatlas !

finger click against the keyboard, though her mind is not focused on the words. instead, it drifts towards him : dean smith. she never thought she’d become a cliche, to have a crush on her boss. her extremely normal, average boss. yet, she finds herself coming in early, just to make sure she has enough time to make him a coffee before he arrives. ( she doesn’t even know when her crush started. almost as if it was there before they even met. ) forest hues snap up at the sound of the elevator opening. eyes find him briefly, before slipping to the presence next to him -- technical support. ( it’s as if they’re purposely ignoring each other. ) eyes move back towards dean, watching as he steps from the elevator.

his focus is on his phone -- she’s certain he’s checking his schedule, making sure he has a plan for the day. he always seems to know exactly what his days will look like. the elevator doors close, and the stranger inside is pushed from her mind. office chair is rolled back as she stands, a bright smile gracing her lips. “good morning, mister smith.” painted nailed fingers slip around the handle of his mug, as she lifts it. “i have your coffee for you.” her voice sounds almost foreign to her mind. she sounds too soft -- but, she doesn’t question it. instead, she extends her arm out towards him, careful to keep the hot liquid from pouring out of the edges. “did you enjoy your weekend ?”