#touch verse

[technically-human]

Part two of the reverse verse is here! The reverse boys meet the original boys. They're not really getting along as well as I had hoped...

Again, this was a commission for @i-am-as-normal-as-you-are and they asked for angst/funny vibes... I think it's mostly just angst though. Oh, well...

Part one

[zepskies]

A SIMPLE TOUCH

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader

Summary: Annie still has reservations about Ben, and you dating him for that matter…until she sees it.

AN: Surprise drabble! Dipping back into the BMD-verse for a sec. Chronologically, it's set sometime after In the Dark.

Prompt from @lifeonawhim: The reader is physically affectionate. (BMD) Ben sees this, tries to give her that comfort, and it just surprises everyone—how Ben is a source of comfort for her, even though he’s quite literally the strongest man.

Originally posted on Patreon: 1/01/25

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Break Me Down Masterlist

Annie was loyal to a fault. For that reason, she was still skeptical about Soldier Boy—about Ben, even after Vought Tower collapsed.

You might’ve been living with him now, but that didn’t mean he was safe, or even a good enough man for you.

She watched you closely in concern while the team filed onto the small private plane. It was set to take you all from northern Pennsylvania back down to New York. You weren’t injured, but in a way, you were still walking wounded.

The rogue supe that the Supe Affairs team was called in to catch had destroyed an office building. You, M.M., and Frenchie had saved a handful of people while Ben and the rest of the team handled the supe. But a young woman slipped right through your fingers off a balcony, falling to the pavement from three stories high.

You still remembered the look of shock cross her face. It was frozen there, even after her body lay prone on the cement. Her blue eyes, perfect mirrors of didn’t see that coming.

That was the picture you couldn’t get out of your head.

Now, you were moving slow, your face tired and drawn. Annie was about to ask if you were okay, even though she knew the answer full well.

Ben reached out his hand to you first. He was ahead of you in the aisle, having put his carry-on bag and yours in the overhead bin. You looked at his hand, and then up at him.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, his voice deep and steady. It steadied you, along with his hand around yours. He guided you not into the seat next to him, but onto his lap. By now he’d changed out of his suit, leaving him in jeans and a dark gray sweater you picked out for him, rolled up to his elbows.

Annie sat with Hughie across the aisle, but she had you and Ben in the corner of her eye. She marveled at the way he was holding you, seeming to know you needed the contact. With a sigh, you allowed yourself to lay against his chest while his warm hand ran up and down your back. A simple touch was all you needed to relax in his arms.

“Don’t mind me. Just gonna sleep for about ten years,” you murmured against his chest. You laid a hand over his heart, silently thanking him as your fingers drifted back and forth.

Ben’s lips quirked upwards. “Just try not to drool on me. New shirt, you know.”

Despite yourself, that managed to make you smile, huffing a laugh. You shoved his shoulder in retaliation. “I don’t drool.”

He knew for a fact that you did, but he just smirked. He sunk his fingers into your hair and inhaled the familiar floral scent of your shampoo.

“Get some shut-eye,” he rumbled. “We’ll be home soon.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, encouraging you to rest. So you did. Your eyes closed on you after you let go of a deep, even breath.

In the grand scheme of things, it was a nothing moment. This was a man who had crumbled two skyscrapers and scarred Hughie for life. (He’d never be able to listen to Air Supply again, pretty much for as long as he lived.)

And yet, maybe it meant Annie could stop worrying so much about your judgment where Ben was concerned.

Only much later, she would realize that this was the moment she actually started to trust him.

AN: I want to get back into BMD world for a longer visit, hopefully soon. 💚💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Next in line, we have a fun, fluffy, angsty, smutty, 3-part Christmas special, Love Actually:

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system. At least, you hope you can, before he meets the rest of your dysfunctional family on Christmas Day.

▶️ Next Story: Love Actually

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[1-0t0r]

someone please hold this man…

[jasminebythebay]

what could have been

-

i was making myself sad by watching a clip of peter parker dying when the implications of insomniac peter parker being in atsv hit me. insomniac's Spiderman is one of the few times Peter actually lives to see Miles becomes Spiderman, so you can imagine how seeing a version of himself actually get a chance to know the peter parker of his world might shake up some Feelings™ (read: guilt, jealousy, awe)

don't get me wrong, Miles has clearly stepped into his role as Spiderman fantastically and loves having Peter B Parker as a mentor, but i wouldn't be surprised if he was a little jealous of insomniac miles getting peter's constant presence and support instead of just a week's worth

[i-identify-as-an-ominous-threat]

In wake of the new "Into the Gimmickverse" project, I'm gonna need every gimmick blog to either reply or comment on this post so we can start making a cast list. Have resume's, gimmick and auditions at the ready. We'll be in touch.

[butch-creeper]

I think Aiglamene reached out to Gideon to make a snarky comment on her fancy get up and how she’s “the real bells and whistles of the Cohort.” Because at the end of the day, Aiglamene did want Gideon to leave. She wanted her to go with honor and glory and not live out a miserable life on the Ninth. She did want better for her. Trained her so that one day she would have the skills she needed to survive. To make her claim in the world not as Gideon Nav, serf of the ninth but as Gideon Nav, survivor of the Ninth.

And she realizes it was all for nothing when her warm hand meets an ice cold cheek. The cold of the dead clings to her. It hugs the skin and bones of the little brat that sat at her feet, listening to her old war stories. And oh how those golden eyes had sparkled while she listened intently, drinking up every detail. The girl she gave a sword too and taught her that she needs to fight for what she wants. To tear them down so nothing stands in her way. Her girl is dead and back on the ninth.

“They killed you.”

[livwritesstuff]

Hazel posts a TikTok filmed in Steve and Eddie’s bedroom that starts as she says, “So, Pop has basically been moping–”

“I’m not moping,” Steve interrupts from somewhere off camera.

“He’s been moping all day,” Hazel continues, “Because Dad isn’t wearing his ring.”

She flips the camera and zooms in on a ceramic dish on one bedside table to show that it’s currently housing a small pile of rings, including the silver band matching the one Steve is wearing on the ring finger of his left hand.

She pans over to Steve, who’s sitting in bed with his iPad.

“Your dad is a grown man,” he says, not looking at the camera, “If he wants to pretend to be single for a day, that’s totally fine.”

From even further off camera, Eddie can be heard saying, “Alright,” and he appears in the doorway a moment later.

“Enough with the slander. I took my ring off because someone,” he pauses to look pointedly at Steve, “conned me into doing yard work with him this weekend and there was so much dirt under there it could’ve grown its own weeds.”

The TikTok cuts to Steve saying, “Hey, no judgment from me. If you want the world to think you're available to see what happens, more power to you. I personally don't get it, but–”

“Oh my god.”

The video cuts again to Eddie putting the ring back on.

“Happy now, princess?” he asks.

Hazel pans the camera back over to Steve in time to catch a smug nod.

Later, when both the camera and Hazel are gone, Eddie says, “I really don’t know what you’re worried about, man.”

“Uh, do you really not have any idea how good-looking you are?” Steve replies, “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about everyone else.”

“Steve, when I see someone as old as us who is both hot and not wearing a ring, my first thought is to wonder what’s wrong with them.”

[fulcrums501st]

“there wasn’t enough plot for a 3rd season”

then save the end of the world threat bullshit for spin-offs. cut it. keep the second season cohesive and grounded so it can actually flesh out the story and themes and characters its first season was trying to explore. don’t shove in your end of the world threat bullshit to derail your previously grounded story when you obviously don’t have time for that. keep the foundational, grounded, character driven nature of arcane and save end of world threats for big crossover series/spinoffs

[werepuppy-steve]

married steddie but they don't live a super lavish life. they're dirt poor, living in a small house at the end of a dead end road that they rent off one of wayne's buddies. steve's a manager at walmart along with robin. eddie's main job is welding but he also does tattooing on the side, so they host a lot of tattoo parties for their friends every other weekend.

there's music and beer and laughing. eddie always asks steve, "you want a new one, baby?" bc all of steve's tattoos have been done by eddie. he won’t let anyone else near him with a gun. eddie doesn’t give him giant ones, only ones that take up a small-ish patch of skin.

inevitably, there's always teasing from their friends. "we gotta pay for ours, how come you ain't charging him, huh?"

to which steve answers, after snagging eddie's beer from his hand and taking a swig and winking, "oh, don't worry, i'll pay him later tonight."

their friends hoot and holler at eddie's flustered grin as steve smacks a kiss to his cheek.

[technically-human]

Reverse verse silliness because angst is endless but so is wonder

@i-am-as-normal-as-you-are commissioned this one, and if you think this is silly, wait until you see what we have prepared for Christmas

[zepskies]

Touch Me

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-size!Reader

Summary: Dean isn’t used to how “touchy” you can be, but he never said he didn’t like it.

AN: I had the Midnight Espresso series in mind for this, since it plays on a recurring theme in that series (how the reader expresses herself), but it can be general Dean x Plus-size!Reader as well!

(In the Espresso-verse, it would take place just a few months after the first story.)

Word Count: 2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for smuttishness. Established relationship, hint of body insecurity, but mostly fluff and feels.

It takes him a while to get used to it, the way you touch him.

Even before you two started dating, you were like this.

You’re an expressive person by nature, always talking with your hands, full body animated when you tell stories. Sometimes you’d grab his wrist playfully, or brush your hand along his back when you pass by. Or you’d grab his shoulder to steady yourself and lean into him when you had too much to drink. 

Dean liked it—all of it. In fact, he found it endearing as hell. That hasn’t changed, even after a few months of trying to figure out what this is. What you two are together, and what you could be.

It’s just that…his family wasn’t so touchy feely growing up. Hell, he can probably count on one hand how many times he hugged his dad. For Sam, maybe two hands.

Your hands are warm, even when they startle Dean a bit while he’s working on detailing his Baby. He sits on a stool low enough for him to get the grit and gravel out of the front right tire.

He jumps when he feels something slide across his shoulders and down his chest, but he chuckles, feeling you press into him comfortably from behind. Your breasts feel like a (sexy) pillow.

“You oughta wear a bell or something,” he remarks, even though he squeezes your arm in greeting, leaving a grease stain in his wake. Your smile presses against his cheek.

“Then how would I get the privilege of scaring the mighty Dean Winchester?” you tease.

He snorts in response. “You just surprised me. A little.”

“Mhmm,” you reply, beginning to lay a path of kisses along his jaw. “Need any help here?”

He takes a deep breath at your ministrations, smiling. “Got a feeling you just came to distract me.”

“Hmm, yeah,” you admit. Your lips wander down his neck, grazing the shell of his ear along the way. Pleasure laces down his spine.

“You know, I think we have yet to christen Baby’s backseat…” You tilt your head, chewing your lip. “Although, I wouldn’t dare imagine how many christenings have come before me.”

Dean chuckles again, but he turns to look at you over his shoulder with more than just desire in his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you’ll be the one that matters,” he says.

You pause, looking down at him like you’re trying to figure out if he means it or not. And he does.  

After a moment, you smile. Dean swivels on his stool and tugs you down to tumble onto his lap, into his waiting arms. You yelp in surprise, but you laugh into his neck when he pulls you flush against him by your jean-clad ass and thigh. He’ll happily get a handful of either one.

You make yourself comfortable on his lap and take his face into your hands. They're gentle, despite what they can do with a Beretta 92.

“I like this,” you admit softly. “You and me.”

Dean quirks a smile. “I’d say it’s an improvement.”

This time when he steals a proper kiss, you’re left without a smartass retort.

Even Sam notices.

The first time he does, you’ve just cooked dinner for them on a slow day. When Dean takes in the spread of pork roast with his eyes, he grins up at you with a heartfelt:

“Thanks, sweetheart," he says. "Looks awesome. Smells even better.”

You brighten with a smile. You answer him by reaching out to cup his cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to the other. You stroke your thumb across his prickly stubble, and let your hand slip down his neck and shoulder on your way back to the kitchen for the bread.

Sam watches the way his brother is a bit surprised by the contact, blinking as his gaze follows you to the kitchen. Dean smiles to himself.

Sam's lips twitch upwards as well.

Is he actually blushing? he wonders.

Dean catches him staring. He raises his brows, clearing his throat.

“What?” he asks.

Sam shakes his head and sips at his beer.

“Nothing.”

After that, Sam starts to pick up on the other little moments, like the way you sit close to Dean while researching during a hunt, your arm or your thigh brushing his. And the way you run your fingers through his hair while watching a movie together, or raise his arm so you can curl yourself up against him on his corner of the couch, threading your fingers together afterwards.

Sam shoots his brother a secret smile of amusement for that one. Dean chooses to ignore him and puts on Porky’s II on the big screen projector with the remote.

You fall asleep about halfway through the movie. Granted, you guys just got back from a long hunt, and you’re all pretty wiped. You’re just the one who succumbed first. From his side of the couch, Sam reaches for a throw blanket you bought for them and helps Dean lay it over you.

Dean happens to meet his brother’s gaze, and Sam smiles.

“Things seem to be going well for you guys,” he says quietly, so he doesn’t wake you.

Out of habit, Dean downplays with a shrug and a noncommittal sound. He brushes your hair back from your forehead, and he makes sure you’re covered up to your shoulders with the blanket. Finally, he rests his arm around your waist and shifts his attention back to the movie.

That’s when Sam knows the truth. His brother’s actions have always spoken louder than his words.

You haven’t officially moved into the bunker just yet.

Dean hasn’t brought it up, since everything between you two is so new. You’re here more often than not though, sharing his bed, making rich espresso out of your little coffee press for him and Sam in the morning, helping them even more with hunts that crop up.

Dean’s still getting used to sharing said bed. Mainly because you’re a cuddler, even after a couple of hot and sweaty rounds between the sheets.

“Ah, heeey,” he says awkwardly, when you snuggle yourself up to his side. You’ve just finished cleaning up in the bathroom and going through your twenty-something mysterious bottles of night creams.

You smell good, he can’t deny. It’s that enticing combination of lavender soap and coconutty shampoo. It infiltrates his nose as you sigh and settle your head against his chest. He curls an arm around you on reflex.

But your hair is tickling his neck and shoulder, sweat is trying to cool on his skin, and there’s plenty of room on your side of the bed. 

“G’night,” you murmur drowsily and lay a kiss to his bare chest, over his anti-possession tattoo.

“Night,” he replies, with a wan smile as he stares up at the ceiling. He goes over the options in his head. One, he can wait until you’re asleep and try to gently roll you onto your side. Two, he can just lay here and deal, even though his neck is itchy, and some uncomfortable sweat is pooling down his lower back.

Or Option Three, he can just ask you if you mind rolling back onto your side. 

After a few beats to think, he quickly concludes that Option Three is not an option.

Instead, he goes for trying to be slick. He waits until he hears your breathing even out into slumber. When he thinks you’re conked out for sure, he slowly, slowly uses his arm curled around your shoulders to roll you over, back onto the left side of the bed.

There are a couple times where he pauses, worried you’re about to wake up. You just hum and sigh in your sleep. Dean's lips purse, and he continues his mission.

When he’s successfully shifted you onto your other side, he expels a small breath of relief. Now, here’s the hard part: taking back his arm.

He goes as slow as he can while sliding his arm out from where it’s trapped underneath your soft body. Part of him feels a little guilty for what he’s doing, but he’s in too deep now.

Almost there…

Your breathing hitches, and stills. So does he.

“Dean,” you say quietly.

Shit.

He looks down, biting the corner of his lip. He’s been had.

“Yeah,” he reluctantly replies.

You turn around and raise yourself up to free his arm. You sigh through your nose, finding his sheepish expression in the dim room.

“Sorry. Was I cutting off your circulation or something?” you attempt to joke.

It seems innocent on the surface, but you’ve made those kinds of self-deprecating remarks before—about your body, your voluptuous ass, hips, thighs, and perfect tits that Dean’s spent the past few months mapping every square inch of.

He frowns. 

“No,” he says. “I, uh…was getting hot. Just wanted a little space, that’s all.”

Your face falls further, no matter how much you try to hide it. A small, proverbial oyster knife twists in his gut.

“Look, if…if you want your bed to yourself, I get it. Less room to go around,” you chuckle, again with that self-deprecating humor. It doesn’t reach your eyes. “I can find my old guest room—”

Dean’s brows furrow along with his frown. He reaches out and grabs your arm before you can even start to get up.

“Hey, stop. Sweetheart, that’s not what I said.” He tugs you back over by your hand. He raises his brows to level with you, conspiringly. “Truth is, I’ve got sweat heading toward the crack of my ass.”

Your face freezes, and then it breaks, spluttering with laughter. Dean smiles, even though he’s also a bit embarrassed.

“You literally got me hot and bothered,” he says, with a teasing gleam in his eyes. “I just need a little cool down. Else I might just wake you up for Round 3.”

You stare back at him in amusement now, tinged with affection. However, the longer your thumb brushes over his knuckles, the more that insecurity starts to creep back into your gaze. 

“You’ll let me know if I’m overstaying my welcome, right?” you ask. “I want to keep exploring…well, us, but I don’t want to smother you either.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You got all that from me telling you I want to fuck you later?”

You dissolve into laughter again, shoving at his chest. He’s known you long enough to figure out what you need though. He grabs your offending hand and pulls you in. Then he rolls you onto your back and traps you underneath his broad frame.

“You’re not going any-damn-where. Not if I can help it,” he says, his voice deepening to a timbre that makes a shiver run down your spine.

You look up at him, your eyes shining through your lashes with desire, and deeper things too. Things that just about make him putty in your hands, whenever you touch him.

So he touches you. He cups your cheek, traces your jawline with his thumb. The pad of it smooths across your full lower lip as you smile softly, and he realizes then just how far this could go for him. He knows it’s the real deal.

That knowing warms him further and makes his stomach churn at the same time. He’s reminded of the warning he gave you before you two started dating.

“I attract a lot of crap in my life,” he admitted. “Shit you want no part of.”

You grabbed onto the lapels of his plaid shirt and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Well, that’s a stupid reason,” you said. 

“It’s really not,” Dean shook his head. “Truth be told…I’m no good for you either.”

You hadn’t given a shit about all that. He’s been trying to figure out why you took a chance on him ever since…but he knows his reasons.

Even though he still believes everything he said back then, it doesn’t change much of anything.

He’s in too deep.

He dips down and claims your lips. You kiss him back with the same fervor, sliding your hands around his back, feeling every smooth dip of muscle between his shoulders.

“Round 3?” you playfully ask, between kisses.

Dean grips one of your thick thighs and spreads your legs for him, so he can grind his hips into yours, pressing his risen length against your heated core through your panties. He earns your moan in response, and he swallows it up with a more devouring kiss. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting for breath, already squeezing on him with your thighs around his hips.

He breaks, just for a second. He gives you a cheeky grin.

“Try to keep up.”

AN: Yep, Dean tried to pull a Ross Gellar. 🤣 (AKA: the "Hug and Roll.")

I don't know why this little idea wouldn't leave me alone! I guess I just like the thought of Dean having to get used to being doted on, even through something as small as being touched affectionately. Not just during sexy times. 💖

(Also, if you've read Midnight Espresso, you'll probably notice a little excerpt from there included here.)

Anyway, I hope you liked this! Let me know what you thought. 😘

Keep Reading:

Next in the Espresso-verse is Devour Me:

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for.

▶️ Next Story: Devour Me (Part 1)

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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@mrsjenniferwinchester @charmed-asylum @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings

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@spnwoman @stoneyggirl2 @spnfamily-j2 @mostlymarvelgirl @artemys-ackles

[imjustsoscaredallthetime]

Like I'm sick. I could fucking throw up my guts. She went back for the sole singular purpose of telling Faulkner she loves him. That place meant nothing to her anymore she did not give a fuck about the church of tide and flesh she only gave a fuck about faulkner and she went back to tell him i love you because she cared about him as much as she cared about the actual brother that she lost and she found him with two dead bodies in front of him and she was going to help him hide the bodies because whatever happened they were supposed to endure it together!!! And his response was to lie like a fucking liar.

[pycth]

BRACHIUM

Did y’all know that I’m actually in love with Brachium?

And this new video has indeed confirmed that—

[akirakirxaa]

Hythlodaeus' breath caught at the sight of the paint on the wall. These were no mere cave paintings, and for a moment, he was not looking at stylized depictions of events long past in a quiet, damp cave, but breathing the dust of rubble around him, the weight of an immense amount of aether bearing down, and a light so briliant that it nearly blinded him as his heart beat nearly free of his breast.

[walkswithmyfather]

John 15:12-17 (NASB). 12 “This is My commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you. 13 Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends. 14 You are My friends if you do what I command you. 15 No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you. 16 You did not choose Me but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain, so that whatever you ask of the Father in My name He may give to you. 17 This I command you, that you love one another.”

“The Best Friend You Will Ever Have” By In Touch Ministries:

“Our Savior is forever faithful and will meet our every need.”

“Many of us are familiar with the hymn “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” We know that our Savior is a great friend (John 15:15), but let’s consider some specific aspects of His relationship with us. He is...

Committed to us. This commitment is for more than a lifetime—it’s eternal. And though life is bound to hold some disappointments, the Lord Himself will never let us down.

Open and transparent at all times. Jesus will continually show us more about Himself as we desire to learn.

Sensitive to our wants as well as our needs. He knows how to meet our deepest longings and lovingly invites us—over and over—to connect with Him.

An inspiring, comforting listener who’s never quick to criticize. He doesn’t interrupt, and His eyes are so lovingly fixed on us that His heart hears exactly what we are saying.

What kind of friend is Jesus? John 15:13 answers that question: “Greater love has no one than this, that a person will lay down his life for his friends.” Because He gave Himself for all people, we as His followers can certainly offer our friendship to someone else. Who in your circle of influence needs the sacrifice of your time or care?”

[Photo thanks to Zeynep Sümer at Unsplash.]

[celluzu]

It's rare to sleep alone on the QSMP.

Roier falls asleep holding Cellbit, and Jaiden lays with her back to his, holding Richarlyson. When they wake up, Mouse will be there too. Because it's hard battling nightmares all alone.

Back before things got more complicated everyone in the favela would sleep together, like they did on the boat. Only with the addition of their son, always huddled against Felps.

Foolish falls asleep on Bad's couch, and well, they're not quite together, but it means a lot. Bad falls asleep with his back to Forever in the meantime. They don't share a single word, but they share their grief.

Maxo wakes up in Aypierre's bed, for one reason or another, then Forever's. It's a big island, he's been alone for so long in his home.

Zeno curls up in Cellbit's lap when he falls asleep at his desk. And he doesn't leave until he wakes up, he was left alone in that cave.

Pac and Mike sleep together more often than not, the separate bedrooms never hindering them, or Richarlyson from joining. And when they're gone Pac finds himself at Fit's door, then Etoiles.

Tubbo wakes up on the floor of his warehouse with Tallulah and Chayanne next to him, and it's not the most comfortable but they manage.

The eggs all go to sleep clung tightly to each other, wherever they are. It's scary, but their island family has taught them it's easier when you know you're not alone.