#you know what? I’m fine with a lot of my mutuals not being one piece self shippers

[moxanji-real]

I’ve noticed that most of my mutuals aren’t One Piece self shippers, but I genuinely love and respect all their ships, no matter where they’re from. To me, their ships are so REAL and CANON, and it’s such a joy to see how much they love their f/o. I don’t need to share the same source to fully adore their ships and treat them with the same excitement and care. Honestly, I wouldn’t trade my mutuals for anything—they and their ships mean so much to me, even if I’ve never seen the source. It’s just something I felt like sharing, because it makes me so happy and grateful to have them. 😤💞

[backwzzds]

Plug!Zoro x Black Reader. It’s literally 4 am right now and I cannot get him off my mind like just imagine him pulling up and his dark green hellcat for a late night drop but really he’s trying to give you more than just weed 😵‍💫

i never even thought of plug!zoro omg…cuz u onto sum!

like literally i can imagine zoro being that chilled n laid back typa plug. unlike eren or even connie, not a lot of people even know that he sells. he’s the type of plug that has like a set list of customers, and the only way you could cop from him is if one of his already-customers vouched for you to him.

it’s not that he’s scared of getting caught or anything, zoro can give less than a shit about that. but he just didn’t like having his business out there like that. in addition, he didn’t even mean to become a trustworthy ‘plug’ in the first place when his dumb ass accidentally ended up growing some fire ass weed one night. this is purely a hobby for him, one he just happens to make mad bread from!

you on the other hand would be on zoro’s client list through his close friend robin. you forgot how you even got close with him, but that’s how long you’ve known zoro. you could hit him up at any time at night and best believe that blacked out, tinted, emarald green scat pack would be parked outside your house within the half hour.

you couldn’t help but open the door for zoro before he even had the chance to walk in like he usually found himself doing. there was some sexual tension there, you both knew that. but you knew yourself well enough to know that if you gave yourself to zoro, you were never getting your soul back.

“hey mama.”

“man, bout time you got my shit.” the drug dealer gives you a lopsided grin before briefly smiling, flashing you the shiny gold of his canine grill piece. zoro holds up a back and smirks at you. this man would be so fine with the way he’d pat your ass the moment you turned around to let him inside the house.

with a little jump from his grip on you, you playfully roll your eyes at him before taking a seat on the couch. with a small joke, you tease, “31 minutes to get here, that mean my bud free?”

“tch,” the man gives you a quick suck of his teeth as he rests his gun on your coffee table before grabbing your rolling tray and pouring bud on it. “you always get this shit for free, don’t even play with me.” you giggle and throw your feet on his lap underneath the tray as you watch him roll up for the night. “we testing six tonight?”

“are you trying to kill me?” you gasp.

“nah, not when i can do something else,” zoro teased, not even looking in your eyes as he started to seal the first blunt with his saliva. but he doesn’t miss the way your brown cheeks flush a deep red and you look away from his pretty face. he chuckles at your nervousness around him. you were so cute.

six said blunts in, and you were both gone. here you were, perched nearly in zoro’s lap as you yapped his ear off.

“nah, cuz i see the way you be lookin’ at her,” you teased, recalling the memory of some mutual friend of yours, flirting with zoro.

“yeah, so?” zoro teased. “she’s annoying as shit. don’t want her.”

you gasp loudly before giggling. “zee! that’s so mean!”

zoro chuckled, “i didn’t say anything wrong. besides, i got someone else being a pain in my ass right now. i’m good with that,” his voice drops an ovtave as he shoves his face in the crook of your neck. your hand can’t help but fly to his green hair and run your fingers through it.

“damn, imma pain in your ass huh?”

“fine as fuck too,” zoro muttuers, kissing along your neck. “you gonna let me give you sum’n besides bud tonight?”

your breath falters as you feel zoro move his kisses as his hands traveled all over your body. his large hands find their way underneath your pajama shirt and they grip at the fat of your tit, possessively squeezing the flesh in his hand. “yeah? what?”

“could give you dick or head. your pick, mama.” between your legs nearly tingle at his reserved nickname for you. soon after, zoro’s kisses trail across your face as he’s pecking all over your lips. “‘m stayin’ the night either way though.”

you can’t help but test your influence over the plug by teasing him. “ion know, you me playing round. how i know you don’t just wanna fuck me and dip?”

zoro rolls his eyes and slowly shoves his hands down your pajama shorts, finding your already wet heat. with a lopsided smirk, he looks at you malevolently. “yeah, i think you’d like it if i stayed tonight too.”

“nah i don’t think my nigga’ll like that,” you tease, just pulling his leg. at the sight of his glock laid out against your coffee table, you add, “he got a gun you know. like to shoot people. like real scary shit.”

zoro can’t help but smile into your skin as he pulled you into him. “he sure do.”

“oooh, fuck!” you’re damn near struggling to breath as zoro has you split against his cock. “you’re reaching so deep, daddy.”

“yeah, daddy reaching deep in that little pussy baby?” zoro teased as he gave you long and deep strokes. “tell him how much you like that shit mama.”

“so much, daddy. like it so much,” you cried, holding the back of your knees up as far as you could. “gonna cum soon.”

“i know baby, i know,” zoro mutters as he thumbs circles against your puffy clit. “gonna show you that this pussy’s all mine. ‘s all mine right? no one else’s?”

you’re breathing hard as you watch the site of where you two connect. “all yours, zee.” a white ring soon forms against the brownish base of zoro’s cock, highlighting the mix of both your arousals.

eventually, you begin to feel overstimulation peak your adrenaline, so out of instinct, you can’t help but rest your small hands on zoro’s pelvis not exactly pushing him away, but instead trying to relieve the own pressure between your legs.

“man move your hand,” zoro kissed his teeth, but you were too fucked out to even listen.

“‘s too much!” you whined.

ignoring your pleas, zoro gravs both your legs and rests them on your shoulders, watching as the gold anklet he bought you dangle by his ears. “mama move your hand or imma move that shit for you, don’t play with me.”

immediately, you move your hand but let out a sharp cry when zoro grips your hips tight and begins to drill your shit with no mercy. “o-oh my go—“

“can’t help you now, pretty.” zoro gave you his million dollar smirk as he began to rub your nipples between his fingers. “fuck, ‘m almost there baby. gonna cum soon.”

“gonna cum soon daddy?” you whine, grabbing his hand. zoro uses his free own to wrap around your neck, lightly squeezing as he watched you effortlessly submit to him.

“mhm,” zoro hummed, feeling the familiar knot tie in his stomach. gosh, he loved fucking you in missionary like this. he loved looking in your eyes and watching all the love you had for him just flow right down to the juices of your waterpark pussy.

it was rare that a smoke session with him didn’t turn into this man fucking you an inch from pure insanity. zoro was crazy and he proved it each time he stroked his dick deep inside you and flooded you with all of him.

“damn girl, this pussy’s so fuckin’ good,” the drug dealer muttered to himself. “all fuckin’ kine. no one’s fuckin’ you like this but me, ya hear?”

you immediately nod your head, finally feeling yourself cum against him. “i’m coming zee! i’m coming i’m com—!” your screams are cut short as your legs shook around zoro’s shoulders

“might be a little selfish and might just put a baby in you,” zoro smirked down at you. “you’d want that pretty? want me to fill you up and make you a mama?”

“yes,” you whined, feeling your energy slowly drain as you continued to cream against him and the sheets. “please come in me, zoro!”

“sure you want it baby? gotta use your words mama.” zoro bites down on his lip as he tries to hold himself back from drilling into you like a madman.

“mhm, yes zee! cum in me please!”

the greenhead takes a deep breath as he feels his dick twitch inside your warm gummy walls. with the green light, he uses the last inch of stamina left in him to completely wreck you. “fucking hell, that’s it, mama. that’s it. just like that. milk me for all i fucking got—fuck!”

you’re left breathless as zoro fills you up and then some, his cum dripping out of your gaping hole and onto the sheets below you. with a collapse beside you, the plug pulls you into his chest and places chaste kisses all along your face.

[steddieas-shegoes]

guard my heart

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘guard’

rated t | 532 words | no cw | tags: mutual pining, friends to lovers, getting together, slightly self conscious Eddie, good friend Robin, first kiss

🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️

“I just don’t understand why you won’t tell him!” Robin whisper-yells at him. “He’s gonna be fine with it!”

“It’s not about him being fine with it,” Eddie sighs. “I’m just trying to guard my heart a little.”

“So pining after him is making it easier?”

She’s so fucking rude for that, but Eddie isn’t gonna get upset. No, he can’t let his emotions win on this one, no matter what Robin tries to convince him to do.

“Are you guys gonna come hang out with everyone or be weird by the door?” Steve asks as he walks closer to them, dripping wet from his recent dive into the pool.

He catches Robin rolling her eyes before she walks away and leaves him alone with the man he’s lusting after. It sounds stupid like that, but there’s no other explanation for the way he wants to-

“You good? No one will care if you leave your shirt on. Or if you wanna take it off. Like, everyone’s gonna be cool with your scars or if you don’t wanna show them off,” Steve says quietly, as if that’s the issue Eddie’s facing at a pool party with Steve.

Sure, a small part of him worries that the kids will be horrified to see his badly healed scars on display, and he worries that they’ll get sad if he keeps them covered. He worries that he’s ugly, pieced together like Frankenstein’s monster, remnants of what he used to be. He knows it’s a lot.

But a bigger part of him is just worried that Steve will see too much of him, that he’ll ruin any tiny shred of a chance that Steve might feel anything for him beyond friendship. Robin insists— keeps insisting— that he just tell him how he feels, that he might be surprised, but he can’t.

“I’m good. Don’t think I wanna get in tonight,” Eddie lies. He’s sweating under his clothes, and he wore his bathing suit trunks in hopes he could be brave. The pool would feel nice after such a hot and humid day.

“You sure?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, man. I’m fine. Go hang out with the kiddos.”

Steve doesn’t leave, though.

He tilts his head to the side, eyes searching Eddie’s. He’s biting his bottom lip between his teeth, and clearly trying to figure something out.

“Can you help me with something inside for a second?” He finally settles on, and Eddie’s a little confused, but nods in agreement. Eddie will do anything for Steve.

Steve leads them both inside, closing the sliding glass door behind them. He walks into the kitchen and leans his back against the counter. Eddie stands awkwardly a few feet away, waiting for direction.

“What did you need help with?” Eddie finally asks after Steve’s been watching him for a solid minute.

“Understanding something.”

Eddie gulps.

“Understanding what?” Eddie’s heart races.

“Why you won’t tell me how you feel.”

Steve’s stepping closer, close enough that water is dripping onto Eddie’s feet and the floor below.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks and Eddie’s nodding before he even fully comprehends the question.

Their lips touch and Eddie forgets why he was so scared.

[waynes-multiverse]

Love On The Brain

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean and Y/N – hunting partners, bunker roommates & idiots in love. Sam is fed up with their constant “will they/won’t they” bullshit and decides to move things along with his own plan until these two fated lovers’ paths finally cross one night – naked.

Warnings: +18, smut (mentions of masturbation f & m, oral f, fingering, p in v), crack of the adorkable kind, nudity, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Happy V-Day, babes! 💖 The V stands for... Welp, you know me well enough by now to know where I’m going with this 😝 This is a lot of moronic crack mixed with some sweet smut and fluff. We all know how much I love the “idiots in love” trope, and I fully dove into this one. So, grab your glass of favorite liquor & let’s settle in, shall we? ❤️😘 Written for a request by @imagine-all-the-fandoms after making some adjustments. Found Rihanna’s Love on the Brain fitting for this one, so that’s what we went with as a general mood. Hope you enjoy, m’ladies! 🖤

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

Freedom! Thank fucking God…

Y/N exhales a blissful sigh as she saunters to the Dean Cave with a bag of still-hot microwave popcorn in her arms. The Winchester brothers have decided on a little overnight road trip to the next, bigger town over to see a movie – and for some brotherly bonding or whatever – which means Y/N can finally enjoy some goddamn alone time in the bunker. Not that she doesn’t love Sam and Dean to bits and pieces, especially the latter one. They are like family to her, the only one she’s ever truly known, but even family can grow exhausting sometimes.

Living with two boys can grow exhausting, honestly, so Y/N has decided to spend her alone time doing a bunch of girly shit she can’t do with Tweedledee and Tweedledum around – at least not without enduring some judgmental looks.

So, first on the agenda? Watching a bunch of chick flicks, aka any movie the oldest Winchester wouldn’t approve of. Mean Girls, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, You’ve Got Mail, and so on – you get the gist.

The second order of business is a long-ass bathroom time for a little much-needed self-care, including a hot and relaxing bath with an abundance of pink bubbles and soap that smells like the goddamn Queen’s flower garden. Then she’s going to shave and wax… everything. Admittedly, things got a little hairy in recent weeks. There wasn’t a lot of time between hunts and sharing close quarters with two men in motel rooms, and every time she did attempt a proper shave, Dean would yell outside the bathroom door, needing to pee or God knows what else, so she dropped the razor again. Honestly, it’s not like she’s being followed around by an array of suitors these days. It’s been months since anyone has seen her private parts or even her bare legs, including her. On the upside, at least her vibrator doesn’t mind the extra locks.

Oh God, she’s fucking sad, isn’t she? Yeah… It’s a sad affair all around, really.

Regardless, the mention of some self-love reminds her of her third to-do item on her list: sex. Well, technically masturbating to Ryan Gosling’s pictures. Maybe even Andrew Garfield, Sebastian Stan, that hot dude Jackson from Grey’s Anatomy… Leo in his prime. Brad Pitt – young and old. Seth Rogen… Whoa! Don’t judge, okay? It’s not all about looks. She loves when a guy can make her laugh, and his laugh is so sweet, deep, and… bear-y, alright?

Yeah, fine, she knows she needs to get fucked properly by a real dick instead of a fictional one – rather sooner than later before she goes for… the dick that’s been living right under the same roof, only three doors down from her own bedroom.

Shit.

Yep, Dean fucking Winchester – God of all Gods, monster hunter extraordinaire, hero of all innocent damsels, and idiotic clown of all clowns, shamelessly stole her heart since… well, pretty much the minute they met and she first laid eyes on him. It felt like being blinded by the sun, the golden freckles on his cheeks and nose resembling the twinkling, starry constellations in the night sky. In an instant, she was an unsuspecting, innocent moth to a blazing flame. How could she possibly resist that irresistible, boyish charm? There’s no vaccine against that green-eyed virus. She swears she’s seen women faint and gasp before him, and she certainly isn’t immune, either. No one truly is, not even other men, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately, Dean will never ever look at her in that way and see more than a friend in her. The thought alone is so ridiculous it makes her snort before she starts to uncontrollably sob and whine. But God, does she wish more than anything he could be hers and she could be his.

Admittedly, she feels a little lonely, especially with the ominous Valentine’s Day looming around the corner, or as Dean likes to call it – unattached drifter Christmas.

Dear fucking God, why did she have to fall in love with that dork? Why can’t it be some nice, normal guy without an abundance of commitment issues?

On the other hand, it’s a good thing the oldest Winchester isn’t here tonight, even though he’d probably love the fourth part of her evening: naturism.

Yup, walking around naked while you’re alone is the best fucking thing in the world and so goddamn freeing. Tits out. Let the ladies breathe a little, you know? Having the girls constantly locked up in bra prison is no way to go through life. And Y/N knows for sure Dean would not only agree with that sentiment but also highly support it. After all, he was the one that suggested Naked Tuesdays when she first moved in. Sam then established a rule that the oldest Winchester wasn’t allowed to “sexually harass” her. It was completely unnecessary but sweet nonetheless. Y/N knows Dean’s just a teasing goofball 99% of the time and would never seriously harm her or make her feel uncomfortable. In fact, she loves that the brothers are always looking out for her and have her best interest in mind.

So, as soon as she hears the big metal door of the bunker slam shut, Y/N excitedly begins her girl’s night alone, trying not to think too much about the green-eyed hunter and focusing on Gosling on the silver screen instead.

“So, this movie… is it like Zombieland?” Dean inquires with a wide grin, wiggling his eyebrows as he grabs a couple of beers and snacks from the fridge for their road trip to Wichita.

Sam’s brow furrows in confusion. “What? Dean, no… It’s not an action movie or a comedy. It’s an environmental documentary about how soil can counteract the climate crisis,” the younger Winchester explains, chuckling in amusement.

Dean’s face drops, his features morphing from excitement to shock as his eyes blink in rapid succession. “What?! But you said Woody Harrelson is in it! You lied to me!”

“Nooo,” Sam laughs, shaking his head, and corrects, “I said Woody Harrelson narrates it. It’s a good documentary. Trust me.”

“Fuck no! I don’t wanna watch a movie about dirt,” the older brother whines, his plump lips shaping into a pout. “Can’t we go see something with action and blood and guns? You know, something fun?”

“Dean, our whole life is action, blood, and guns. Would do you some good to care about the Earth and climate every once in a while,” Sam lectures him.

“Screw that! We’ve already saved the planet multiple times. All that Al Gore shit ain’t my problem,” Dean huffs, pops open a beer and takes a sip. “‘Sides, I don’t trust these environmental clowns. I know the first thing they’d wanna do is get rid of Baby, and then I swear I’m gonna start shootin’. I can’t stand for that insanity.”

“Fine,” Sam frowns and lets out a resigned sigh. “Then I guess you’ll have to stay here because I wanna watch that movie.”

“Fine by me,” Dean agrees with another sip of beer.

“Good. Since you’re not coming, I might even check out the Mid-America Fine Arts Museum,” Sam shares, the excitement gleaming in his hazel orbs.

“Yeah, nerd yourself out, little brother,” Dean snorts. “Did you know Wichita has a Pizza Hut Museum?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, you tell me that every time we go to Wichita, Dean,” Sam reminds him and suppresses the laugh. “Well, uh, have fun alone with Y/N then,” he smirks slyly, and Dean’s short-lived relief disappears as realization dawns, his brow knitting. “Who knows? Might even be a good opportunity for you to tell her you’re madly in love with her.”

“Wha-, uh, pffft, no?” Dean brushes his little brother’s lunatic accusations off the kitchen counter and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, clearing the fluster in his throat. “Dude, are you drunk? I’m so not in love with her, alright? Don’t be ridiculous, okay? Do I find her incredibly hot, smart, sweet, brave, kind, adorable, and funny? Sure… That’s why she’s our friend, right? But that doesn’t mean I like… love “love” her, okay? At least not like that.” He forms sarcastic air quotes around the cursed word and grimly swallows his uncomfortableness and the lies down with a big gulp of beer. “And for crying out loud, keep your voice down when you say shit like that. I don’t want her to hear us,” he hisses, his green orbs nervously eyeing the kitchen door. “It’s echo-y in here, you know?”

“Sure, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam casually shrugs his shoulders, clearly not buying a single one of the green-eyed hunter’s words, and it only annoys the older Winchester more.

“Don’t-… Nuh-uh, don’t gimme that fake ‘whatever you say’ bullshit shtick. There’s really nothing going on, alright?” Dean assures anew, growing more irritated by the minute.

Sam twitches his shoulders once more and then cockily folds his arms over his chest, a teasing smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, so you won’t mind if I set her up with Matt, right? It’s just-… She seems a little lonely lately.”

“Lonely?” Dean arches an eyebrow in apprehension and scoffs, “She’s fine, Sam. She’s got us.”

Sam frowns for what feels like the hundredth time during this conversation. “Dean, you honestly don’t think that’s enough for her.”

“Why not?” The older Winchester shrugs, refusing to see clearly. “It’s enough for me. Our life is awesome. You don’t see me complaining.”

“Yes, you’re obviously the golden standard for healthy relationships,” Sam mutters sarcastically and rolls his eyes back.

Dean purses and smacks his plump lips, scratching the bit of scruff on his throat. “Well, uh… shut up, okay? And don’t set her up with Matt. The guy’s a douche.”

“Alright, what about Josh? You like Josh,” Sam suggests next.

“Yeah, as a hunting partner, he’s alright, not as a boy toy for our friend, Sam,” Dean grits bitterly and rolls his eyes, chugging the rest of his beer. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re not her pimp. Just leave her alone, alright?”  

“Look, if you don’t wanna date her – fine. That’s on you. Just don’t stand in the way of her happiness because you can’t stop self-sabotaging yourself, man,” Sam argues with a judgmentally raised brow.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dean grumbles, the offense clearly written in every deep wrinkle on his face.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam deadpans and grabs his laptop bag, making his way out of the kitchen.

“Stop saying that!”

“Look, I’d love to discuss all your weird issues in detail with you, but I still have to pick up Eileen on my way to Wichita,” Sam notes nonchalantly as Dean trails behind him through the bunker’s corridors. “I’ve watched you two beat around the bush for years. It’s getting annoying. You guys are worse than Ross and Rachel.”

“Wait, Eileen? Did you plan all of this on purpose? Were you trying to trick me?” Dean’s voice rises with his exasperation. He hates when Sam puts his nose where it doesn’t belong, mainly in his business. It’s the typical little brother shit he had to deal with all his life. Siblings, man…

“Me? No, I would never,” his younger brother replies with feigned innocence, marching up the metal stairs to the exit, but Dean can hear the goddamn deceit in his words.

“I don’t believe you,” Dean grits with a sternly creased brow, narrowing his juniper eyes at his younger brother as he halts at the bottom of the steps.

“Okay, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam grins complacently and opens the door. “Just don’t be an idiot. Make the first move, alright? That’s all you need to do. Trust me. It’s gonna be fine. She likes you, too.”

With that, the youngest Winchester closes the door behind him, leaving Dean to ruminate in his convoluted misery.

The hunter then stomps through the hallways of the bunker, furiously mumbling to himself as he passes the Dean Cave on his way to his room. Hearing sounds coming from inside, he stops by the cracked door for a moment and realizes Y/N is watching a movie in there. He considers joining her before recognizing Gosling’s voice, a deep sigh leaving his lips. Of course, she’s watching chick flicks again, so he decides against his plan, knowing some silly rom-com could potentially be a slippery slope and lead to some dangerous innuendos.

He downright refuses to play into his little brother’s evil scheme. Sam’s not goddamn Lindsay Lohan, and this isn’t the fucking Parent Trap. It’s better and safer if Dean stays far away from Y/N for the entirety of Sam’s absence, so the hunter quietly retreats to his room.

Dean decided to watch a bunch of his favorite horror movies until late into the night, ignoring the boiling feelings under the surface. He then closes his laptop with a heavy sigh, ready to call it a night after a nice, warm shower.

With headphones on and some classic rock music drowning out his hammering thoughts, he takes off his clothes and wraps a towel around himself. During an earlier snack run to the kitchen, he noticed the Dean Cave had already been deserted, the room quiet and dark. Y/N luckily has withdrawn to her own room again, so he knows he won’t accidentally run into her. She still hasn’t left his mind, his head in a constant swirl since his stupid conversation with Sam.

So, naturally, Dean comes to the conclusion that only some self-completion down the shower drain might help to clear his thoughts and flush the huntress out of his mind for good. He’s not proud of it, but it’s certainly not the first time since he’s known her that he thinks about her while jerking off. Usually, it only happens when he has to spend too many nights in a row with her in a small motel room without a way to escape, but this time, though, he fully blames Sam and his big mouth for it.

Wandering down the hall to the bathroom, his head bobs to the rhythm of the music flowing through his ears, his green eyes fixed on his phone screen as he scrolls through his playlist. Mindlessly opening the door, he suddenly freezes as another body bumps straight into him.

It all happens pretty fast from there. There’s a loud, high-pitched shriek that filters through the music, his hand drops his phone, and his headphones fall down with it, severing the connection and leaving him in silence as his palms catch a taut-skinned body in his arms while the towel around his waist glides to the tiled floor. And then, he just stares into two big and shocked pupils, which are probably as wide as his own.

Fuck…

For a second, Dean feels incredibly exposed before noticing the warm skin that’s pressed flush against his own body. Yep, he doesn’t dare to check, but he’s certain Y/N’s completely naked, too.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…,” Y/N’s panicked voice chimes in his ears as both of them awkwardly avert their gazes in different directions to the ceiling and avoid eye contact at all costs while still clinging tightly onto each other, aware that if one of them moves, it’s game over and they’d see each other in their full glory. Basically, they’re each other’s damn shields – as uncomfortable as that may be. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“I, uh…” That’s when Dean realizes Y/N probably didn’t even know he stayed behind and let Sam go to Wichita alone. “Sam wanted to watch a documentary.”

“I know!” Y/N yells in annoyance and grits, “You were supposed to go with him! Granted, I was surprised you agreed to it in the first place, but still, you’re not supposed to be home!”

“He didn’t tell me it was a documentary about dirt, alright? Otherwise, it would’ve been a straight-up ‘no’ from the start,” Dean explains and tries not to get hard as he feels Y/N’s tits press against his chest. Judging by the precise feeling that’s poking him, she must be somewhat cold.

“Yes, he did! I was right there when you agreed,” Y/N argues. “He talked about it for over an hour.”

“Oh,” Dean stumps and clears his throat rather awkwardly. Who could blame him for not listening, huh?

“You never listen to people! It’s so goddamn annoying!”

“Y/N, you need to stop talking, sweetheart,” Dean begs her, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrates on anything else for dear life.

Baseball, Sam drinking green smoothies, a scratch on Baby’s new coat of paint… He attempts to distract his mind from the unavoidable, but it’s no use. The skin-on-skin contact is his final nail in the coffin.

“Oh, I’m sure you would love that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N continues in a furious huff, “It’s not always about you–”

“Y/N, please… All that angry shaking isn’t helping, sweetheart.”

The huntress cocks an eyebrow high, almost reaching the messy bun on top of her head. “Helping with what?”

“Uhm…”

And that’s when he can’t control it any longer. There’s a distinctive twitch against her thigh, and he’s sure she’s felt it, too. Shit, shit, shit…

“Oooooh.” Y/N awkwardly presses her lips into a thin line, her fingertips tapping a nervous melody on his skin. Her single utterance makes his heart stop. It’s game over. She’s going to call him a gross perv, move out of the bunker, and then never speak to him again. “It’s-, uhm, it’s okay,” she says surprisingly, her head bobbing with a thick swallow as she reassuringly squeezes his biceps where her palms rest.

“Y/N, I’m-, uh… oh God… I’m so, so sorry,” he stammers, deciding to keep his eyes shut to escape some of the awkwardness.

“I-, no, it’s not-… This is a weird situation we’re in… It’s fine. Completely normal, right? Like, uhm, like a reflex?”

“Uh, yeah, guess so,” Dean gulps, his eyelids slowly fluttering open and gaze drifting back to the ceiling. It’s not a goddamn reflex, though. It’s all her. It’s the effect she has on him.

“We should, uh, probably, uhm, detangle…”

“Uh-huh, yup, nope, agree,” he says and clears his throat once more, hoping the fluster will leave his body soon. “You, uh, wanna bend down, and we both can grab our towels?”

Fuck, it’ll probably be awkward between them for months now. They’ll avoid each other during breakfast, lunch, dinner… They’ll stop watching movies together, Sam will have to be their buffer and hate it, and they probably won’t look directly into each other’s eyes till Christmas – and it’s only fucking February.

“Oh, uhm… I actually, technically didn’t, uh, come with a towel?”

His eyebrow twitches upward, head slightly tilting to the side as he thinks about her words. “Oh, uh… Wait… Were you, uhm, walking around like… naked through the bunker?”

Well, there’s an image Dean’s never gonna get out of his head. Now, he’ll forever wonder if she takes off her clothes as soon as he walks out the door.

“Look, I thought I was alone, okay?! Again – you’re not actually supposed to be here! Don’t judge me!” Y/N defends, the panic returning to her voice, and then adds something in an almost inaudible mumble, “Just wanted to let the girls breathe a little. Sue me…”

“What?” His head tilts some more, the fine creases on his brow deepening.

“Nothing… never mind,” she quickly splutters, her cheeks flushing bright red as she visibly swallows.

Dean snorts. He’s in love with a dork, isn’t he? God, she’s adorable.

And then, it fucking happens again. Dammit…

“Was that…”

“Again – I’m so, so sorry,” he apologizes once more, although he’s sure he can’t do it often enough. His dick is an escaped zoo animal and clearly on the prowl tonight.

“No, uh… So how do you wanna do this? We could, uhm, maybe turn 180 and then close our eyes and let go… I could, uhm, run really fast down the hall, and you could just quickly back into the bathro–”

Y/N doesn’t get to finish laying out her plan. Dean’s lips on hers stop any further words from spilling out of her mouth. The featherlight kiss doesn’t last longer than a painfully anxious second, his mind racing a mile a minute, his brain positively fried.

What the hell is he fucking doing? There’s only one rule in the bunker: don’t sexually harass Y/N. Dean’s pretty damn sure he’s breaking that rule right now and crossing too many goddamn lines. How’s he supposed to ever recover from this?

“What, uh…” Y/N’s speechless, every muscle frozen stiff in his embrace. Her eyebrows draw up and reach her hairline, eyes blown wide in shock. “Or that… you could do that…”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Dean groans in defeat and shame, hoping the Earth opens up and takes him straight to the burning fires of Hell. See? There aren’t enough apologies in this world to make up for his stupidity. “You know, this is all Sam’s fault… He just got into my head… I mean, this is obviously the wrong first move… I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just have a, you know, teeny-tiny crush on you, but still, this is obviously inappropriate.”

“You-, uhm, you have a crush on me?”

Dean swallows the hard lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah… Yeah, I do,” he admits bravely. “But don’t worry about it, okay? It’s just a temporary thing, alright?”

Y/N nods slightly in understanding. “For how long have you felt this way?”

“Well, uhm, like I said – not that long… Just a very short period of time… Like, since November 29th… 2012,” he gulps and shrugs sheepishly, watching her brow furrow in confusion.

“But… that’s the day we met,” Y/N points out.

Dean chuckles uncomfortably and rebuffs her concerns. “Is it? No…,” he rasps. “Well, uhm, anyways, that doesn’t change anything. Don’t worry, alright? No need to make this weird. I’m sure if we give it a couple more years, I’ll be completely over you.”

Y/N’s head bobs again, her lips pursing. “Okay, uhm… But what if you, uh, you know, maybe get over me in the literal sense… and I could get under you?”

The gears in his head start turning as he musingly squints his pine green eyes at her and studies her features. She seems nervous. There’s a bite of her lower lip and a light swallow in her throat, her pupils flickering insecurely. “Uhm, well… is that something you would like? I mean, to get-, uh, would you wanna get under me?”

“Uhm… yes? Yeah?” She looks up at him and meets his gaze, their eyes fully connecting for the first time since they have catapulted themselves into this mortifying situation.

“Is that a question?” Dean checks and chuckles lightly. “Because you kinda need to be sure about this, y’know?”

Another swallow and Y/N nods, determination gleaming in her eyes. He feels her weight shift forward, her feet rising on tip-toes as her palms move from his upper arms to the back of his neck. Her soft, pillowy lips catch his, a tender touch as their mouths carefully mold together. She sucks on his upper lip, nibbles on the bottom one before he feels the tip of her tongue lick between. He opens his mouth wider, lets her slip inside.

Dean’s hands then begin to travel, his confidence growing as Y/N’s fingers tug slightly on the short strands of hair in the nape of his neck, trying to draw him closer. One large hand cups her neck, the other one smoothing down her spine and pressing into the small of her back. He pushes her closer, deepens the kiss, and both of them moan needily while their tongues dance with each other. His grip on her becomes stronger, their bodies melting into one. Y/N gasps into his mouth, her hips pushing against his, skin on skin, as her bare pussy brushes his bulging dick.

“Shit…,” Dean mutters breathlessly against her lips, and Y/N breaks the kiss and meets his eyes with a hint of a smile.

Her lips are red and glistening, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. He cups her blushed cheek, thumb ghosting over the kiss-swollen flesh of her bottom lip as he mirrors her soft smile.

“You okay?” Y/N checks, giggling slightly.

Dean chuckles, palm still caressing her cheek. “Yeah, uh, just realized we’re incredibly naked.”

She snorts and nods, “Yeah, guess that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, huh?”

“Definitely not,” Dean agrees and laughs a little, his cheeks blushing with bashfulness. “But, look, we don’t have to do anything tonight, alright? We can take it slow.”

Y/N thoughtfully chews on her lip, her dimples showing a smile before she shakes her head. “No, I think we’ve been taking things slow for long enough.”

Dean’s face breaks into a grin before he pulls her back to his lips for a searing kiss. Y/N’s hands lock around his neck, allowing him to lift her up, and her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His hand weaves into her hair, still damp in the back of her neck from her bath, as the scent of her delicious body wash and lotion seep into his nostrils with each intake of air.

“You smell nice,” he notes, his mouth trailing along her jawline and down her throat, leaving wet kisses in his wake as he sucks her pulse point black and blue. “Like a flower garden…”

Y/N giggles, the cute sound in his ears causing his heart to flutter. She clasps his jaw and draws his attention back to her face, nuzzling her nose against his, whispering, “Bedroom. Need you inside me…”

“Jesus, Y/N… Going in for the kill, huh? You can’t say stuff like that to a man in a compromising position,” he jokes, making her laugh more. “Okay, hold on, sweetheart. You ready?”

She confirms it with a nod, and Dean adjusts his grip on her body, grabbing her a little tighter before bolting down the bunker hallway like a little kid on Christmas morning. The huntress squeals and giggles in his arms as he kicks the door open to his bedroom, gently laying her down on the mattress. She lets herself fall back and stretches out on the bed, her shoulder blades indenting the memory foam, and he hopes the thing does as advertised and fucking remembers her forever.

“You’re fast,” Y/N teases him as he quickly makes his way on top of her.

Dean chuckles, placing soft kisses on her lips in between his laughs. “Yeah, well, I’d run a mile just to get a taste of you, sweetheart. But don’t worry – not all of it will be this fast, alright?”

“Oh, I didn’t think it would be,” she giggles and licks her lips. “Can you just do me a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart,” Dean assures her and lovingly brushes her hair behind her ears.

“Just judging by, uhm, size-,” she interrupts her sentence for a giggle, and he joins in. She’s so fucking cute. “Can you go slow?”

“Oh, trust me. I would’ve taken my time either way, but tell you what – I’ll even do you one better,” he says. His fingers then slide up her arm, along her collarbone and down to one breast. She shivers underneath him, her skin breaking into delicate goosebumps, soon soothed by his warm lips. His thumb brushes her bud, plays with it until it hardens and then alleviates the sensation with his hot breath and wet tongue.

“Fuuuuck,” Y/N sighs blissfully, her toes curling as a smile shapes on her lips, fully relaxing under his care. “Feels so good, De.”

His chuckle vibrates against her ribcage, his mouth traveling down her upper body, his kisses not missing an inch of smooth skin. Every rib, every beauty mark, every freckle gets the attention they deserve, even teasingly dipping his tongue into her navel. The last tender kiss is placed on her mound as he moves between her legs and spreads her thighs a little wider.

A smirk forms on his face as he leers at her pussy, bright pink and already glistening with her arousal. He catches her watchful gaze, sees a bit of insecurity shimmering in it as she nibbles her fingernails and bottom lip almost bloody, so he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows and sends her a wink, causing her to giggle and roll her eyes at his antics before she lets herself fall back into the mattress with a calming, deep breath.

Licking his thumb pad, he presses it against her sensitive nub, her thighs jolting for a second at the initial touch as a hiss escapes her throat, followed shortly by a strangled whimper. Y/N’s hands fist the bedsheet a little tighter, her knuckles turning white, every muscle wired to the nth degree. Her chest heaves frantically as her breathing grows more erratic with each little circle of his digit. His index finger then stretches and reaches her dripping entrance, rubbing at the tight ring before he easily pushes inside and curls it, poking the spongey spot.

“Fuck, Dean…,” she manages to croak out, biting down on her tongue.

Dean only chuckles, a giddy feeling spreading in his stomach and loving how responsive she is to his touches. There’s a loud whimper when he kisses her pussy lips, tongue dipping between and giving her clit a kitten lick, distracting her enough to shove his middle finger inside her cunt as well, scissoring them once he’s knuckles-deep.

“Oh God… shit,” she groans and whines above him.

He laughs lightly and curiously observes the torment on her face. “Wanna cum, huh?”

“Dean, I swear… I-… please,” she begs, her initial threat morphing into a soft plea for mercy.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he assures her amusedly and swiftly presses his mouth back on her pussy, sucking her sensitive bundle of nerves between his plump lips and thrusting his digits harder and faster inside her. It only takes three, four pushes and one skilled suck before she convulses, trembles, and soaks his face and fingers in her juices. He groans at the sweet taste of her on his tongue, his cock twitches gleefully between his bow legs, only too eager to slide in next.

“Oh God! Fuck… shit… D-Dean!”

The green-eyed hunter grins broadly up at her, his face almost split in half as he bathes in her blissed-out expression and the rosy cheeks that accompany it.

“Wow,” she breathes and shakily catches his swollen and wet lips as he comes back up to her eye level, propping his arms up on the sides of her head.

“I think you’re ready for the big gun now,” he laughs and places a loving kiss on the tip of her nose and another one on her forehead.

“Uh-huh, I’m not so sure after this,” she giggles, still catching her breath. She cups his jaw, kisses him deeply, and licks her arousal from his pillowy lips. “You’re… amazing.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” he winks, the softness of his smile contrasting his cockiness. “Do we, uhm, need–”

Y/N shakes her head, anticipating his question. “No, uh, I’m on the pill. I just need you.”

With a smile, he nods and ducks his head, entangling her in a blazing kiss as he devours her lips. His hand pushes between their heated bodies, fisting his achingly hard cock before he threads his dickhead through her folds, coats it with her slick before it catches at her entrance. His thick and leaking tip pushes inside, slowly entering her drenched cunt inch by inch till he’s buried deep and touches her cervix, stretching her tight walls around his impressive girth and hearing her little gasps of sheer pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps at the feeling of her pussy enveloping his cock and gently brushes her hair out of her face, kissing her deeply. “Taking me so well… Such a good girl f’me.”

“God, you feel like heaven,” she whimpers and wraps her arms around his neck.

As he languidly pulls out to the tip, he kisses down her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. His hand wraps around one of hers, pinning it above her head to the mattress, fingers tightly interlocking before he thrusts back into her heat. His hips then work up a rhythm, a slow and soft song, as he fucks her deep and slams home harder at just the right spot.  

Her second orgasm builds slowly yet deeply, aiming to shatter her from within as she hears the ticking of a bomb in every muscle of her body, counting down the seconds before a massive explosion. She moans loudly as the earth-shattering climax hits her at full force, booming and wild as she curses his name over and over.

His fingers grip hers tighter, his thrusts growing sloppy as he lazily fucks her, her pulsating walls clenching around his firm cock. His hips begin to stutter, broad shoulders quaking as he spills deep inside her and stills. He grunts, her name falling from his lips, loud, strained, and primal when he cums, painting her walls with his milky seed.

“Wow,” Dean repeats her earlier sentiment, her giggle causing his heart to soar higher than the moon in the sky. “You okay?”

A wide smile spreads across her face, a tired nod moving her head. “Yeah, more than okay,” she assures him and seeks out his lips.

Dean places one last kiss on her hairline before removing his limp and drenched dick from her center, rolling to his side and pulling her onto his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around her frame. “Hey, Y/N?”

She wearily lifts her heavy head to meet his green eyes. “Hm?”

“Were you, uhm, lonely?” Dean asks, his fingertips drawing tender patterns on her back.

“I guess… a little, yeah,” she admits. “Why?”

He kisses her forehead and pulls her closer. “Nothing. Just… I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? You wanna move into my room?”

Y/N’s beam is blinding, her cheeks blushing brightly pink. “Yeah, I’d love that,” she replies and snuggles back into his chest.

Dean then notices her eyes falling shut, losing the battle against sleep as her breathing calms in his embrace, his own mind following her into dreamland soon after.

In the morning, Y/N and Dean are still soundly asleep, entangled in sheets and limbs, when there are a few abrupt knocks on the door before it pops open to its full extent, the youngest Winchester’s voice drowning in from the hall.

“Hey, Dean? I’m back! Look, I figured we could talk. I’m sorry about yesterd–… ay… Whoa!”

“Wha-!” Y/N jolts up from the bed at the unexpected intrusion, her elbow hitting Dean straight in the face as he rises behind her. The force of the blow knocks him out of bed, the hunter tumbling to the cold ground.

Y/N clasps her palm over her mouth, staring at Sam’s shocked expression, their eyes both wide before she glances over her shoulder to her lover on the ground.

“Ow! Jesus…”

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Sam,” the huntress smiles awkwardly at the younger Winchester, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders as she hides her naked body underneath the sheets. “Good morning. How-, uh, how was the documentary?”

“Uhm, good?” Sam doesn’t look any less freaked out by what his hazel eyes are witnessing, though.

Dean groans behind her, rubbing a palm over his aching face before sending his little brother a lazy grin. “Hiya, Sammy.”

Sam then lets out a long sigh through his nose and mutters, “About damn time…”

“Yeah, about that, little brother… Might call Eileen and book yourself a room for at least a week somewhere,” Dean tells him, smirking.

Sam’s brow furrows, “What? Why?”

“Oh, because I’m gonna rail Y/N in every room we have,” Dean explains casually, watching Sam’s eyes widen.

“Oh?” Y/N sends her boyfriend an intrigued look, which he responds to with a sly wiggle of his eyebrows and a wink. “Even the dungeon? Are you, like, gonna tie me up and stuff?”

Dean’s eyes look at her lovingly, causing her cheeks to flush with heat. “Where have you been all my life, sweetheart?”

“Oh God, what have I done…,” Sam groans with a thick swallow.

PHEW! And we’re done with one shot week, babes! 😮‍💨 I honestly hadn’t planned this but found some inspiration over the weekend and finished some WIPs, and since they were all about different kinds of love, I figured they were perfect for Valentine’s Day 💖

Hope you enjoyed these various journeys, and if you did, please consider telling me here and leaving me with some kind words 🥰 Now excuse me while I go work on a few Soldier Boy one shots. I’ve missed my toxic Ben-Ben. Read you soon, babes! 😝🖤

Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @avanatural​

Dean Tags: @parinarain​ @hobby27​ @fromcaintodean​

[darkenedroses-world]

Tension Breaker — Pezzy x Reader

f!reader, sexual tension, heated arguments, enemies to lovers, steamy sex, road trip, light angst, mutual pining, request🦋

The car rumbled down the highway, the hum of the tires on asphalt drowned out by the endless bickering in the backseat. Puffer gripped the steering wheel, a look of sheer exasperation plastered across his face. “Do you ever shut up?” Pezzy snapped, twisting in his seat to glare at you. “Do you ever stop complaining?” you shot back, crossing your arms with a huff. “I’m not complaining, I’m pointing out facts,” he retorted, his tone dripping with faux calm. “You’ve been chewing on that same piece of gum for the past two hours. Do you know how annoying that is?” “Do you know how annoying you are?” you countered, leaning forward just enough to invade his personal space. “Oh my God,” Puffer groaned from the driver’s seat, glancing at you both through the rearview mirror. “You’re like two kids in the backseat of a minivan. Do I need to pull over and separate you?” You rolled your eyes, sinking back into your seat. “He started it.” “I started it?” Pezzy scoffed, his jaw tightening as he turned back to the front. “You’ve been at my throat since we left.”

“Only because you exist,” you muttered under your breath, loud enough for him to hear. Pezzy’s head whipped around again, his eyes narrowing. “Say that again.” “I said—” “Stop!” Puffer interrupted, his voice booming. “I swear to God, if I hear one more word from either of you, I’m turning this car around. No TwitchCon. No nothing. Just straight back home. Got it?” You and Pezzy glared at each other but fell silent, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. The silence lasted approximately ten minutes before Pezzy’s knee brushed against yours as he shifted in his seat. “Seriously?” you snapped, pulling your leg away like his touch burned. “Oh, get over yourself,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.” “You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, glaring out the window. “And you’re impossible,” he shot back. Puffer let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Can one of you just sleep or something? Please, for the love of all things holy.” When the car finally rolled into the parking lot of the roadside motel, Puffer jumped out like his life depended on it, muttering something about needing to decompress.

“Alright,” he said, tossing a keycard your way. “You and Pezzy are sharing. Don’t kill each other. I’m going to enjoy my own room.” “What?” you and Pezzy said in unison, turning to glare at him. “Not a chance,” you added, throwing the keycard back at him. Puffer caught it with ease, his expression unimpressed. “Figure it out. I’m done being your babysitter.” With that, he grabbed his bag and walked off, leaving you and Pezzy standing in the parking lot, glaring daggers at each other. “This is your fault,” you said, crossing your arms. “My fault?” Pezzy barked a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re the one who can’t go five minutes without picking a fight.” “Fine,” you snapped. “Let’s just get this over with.” The room was small, with two beds crammed into the space and a single, outdated TV mounted on the wall. You threw your bag onto the nearest bed, claiming it immediately. “Typical,” Pezzy muttered, tossing his own bag onto the other bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, spinning around to face him.

“Nothing,” he said, but the smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise. You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer. “You’ve got something to say, Max?” “Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping as he took a step toward you. “I think you love picking fights with me because you don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re not annoyed.” Your heart skipped a beat, the space between you suddenly feeling too small. “That’s ridiculous,” you said, but your voice wavered. “Is it?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. “Because you’re looking at me like you’re dying to prove me wrong.” Your breath hitched as his words sank in, the tension between you shifting from anger to something heavier, something electric. “You’re insufferable,” you whispered, but there was no venom in your tone. “And you’re irresistible,” he countered, his smirk softening as he closed the distance between you. You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours, the kiss heated and desperate, months of tension spilling over all at once.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Max,” you murmured against his lips, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah?” he asked, his breath warm against your skin. “Shut up,” you said, pulling him into another kiss. The kiss deepened quickly, the pent-up tension between you both spilling out in a frenzy of need. Max’s hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved hungrily against yours. Your breath hitched as his fingers slid beneath your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he spoke. But the way he held you, his grip firm yet trembling slightly, told you he was hoping for anything but that. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

That was all he needed.

His hands pushed your shirt up, his lips trailing kisses down your neck and over your collarbone as he helped you pull it off. You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, leaving faint marks as he made his way lower, his movements deliberate and teasing. “God, you’re so frustrating,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of annoyance and admiration as he looked up at you, his hands exploring your body. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting this?” “Probably as long as I have,” you admitted, your breath catching as he smirked and slid his hands over your waist. “Well, then,” he said, his tone low and heated. “Guess it’s time to make up for lost time.” He guided you back toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours as the backs of your knees hit the mattress. You fell onto it together, your bodies tangling as he settled between your legs, his weight grounding you in the best way. His hands roamed your body, pulling soft whimpers from your lips as he found every sensitive spot.

His lips followed suit, his kisses leaving trails of fire in their wake as he worked his way down, pausing to nip at your skin just enough to make you gasp.

“Max,” you moaned, your hands clutching at his hair as he kissed just above the waistband of your jeans. “Patience,” he teased, his breath warm against your skin as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I’m enjoying this.” You didn’t have time to retort before he unbuttoned your jeans, his fingers hooking into the fabric to slide them down along with your underwear. He kissed your thighs, his touch gentle yet possessive, as though he was savoring every moment. When his tongue finally found you, your back arched off the bed, a cry escaping your lips as he worked you over with deliberate skill. He was relentless, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck, Max,” you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as your body trembled beneath him. “Cum for me,” he murmured, his voice rough as he looked up at you, his lips slick and swollen. “I want to see you fall apart.” You shattered at his words, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He didn’t let up, his touch and tongue guiding you through the intensity until you were left breathless and trembling. As you came down from your high, Max crawled back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, and it sent another rush of heat through your veins. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” you whispered, tugging at his shirt. He smirked, sitting back just long enough to pull it off, revealing the toned lines of his chest and arms. You couldn’t help but stare, your hands reaching out to trace the muscles you’d secretly admired for so long. “Like what you see?” he teased, his voice cocky but filled with a deeper need as he leaned back over you. “Shut up,” you murmured, pulling him into another kiss. He kicked off his pants, the weight of him settling over you again as he lined himself up. His eyes searched yours, his expression softening for just a moment. “You good?” You nodded, your hands sliding over his shoulders. “I’m good.”

He pushed into you slowly, the stretch making you gasp as he filled you completely. He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust before he began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he set a steady rhythm. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer with each thrust, his breath hot against your neck as he murmured praises into your skin. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice strained as he picked up the pace. “You’re mine, you know that? No more fighting, no more pretending.” “I’m yours,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as he drove you closer to the edge once again. “Max, I’m—” “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips capturing yours as he sent you spiraling into another climax, your body shaking beneath him. He followed moments later, his groans muffled against your skin as he found his release, his body trembling with the force of it. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you both caught your breath.

The tension that had once filled the space between you was gone, replaced by a quiet intimacy that felt so much better. “So,” he said after a moment, his voice teasing but soft. “Still think I’m insufferable?” You laughed, resting your head against his chest. “Absolutely.” “Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your hair. Max’s arms stayed wrapped around you as you lay against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a blissful haze. His hand absentmindedly traced circles on your back, his fingers dipping under the blanket to brush your bare skin. “Alright,” he murmured after a moment, his tone warm and teasing. “I’ll admit it. You’re a little less annoying when you’re like this.” You propped yourself up on his chest, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?” He smirked, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You know, quiet. Out of insults. Exhausted because I wore you out.” You rolled your eyes, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. Your laughter filled the room, light and carefree in a way it hadn’t been in months.

His grin softened into something gentler as he gazed up at you. “I think we both know you’re the one who’s been driving me crazy this whole time.” “Guess we’re even then,” you said, your voice quieter now. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours. “More than even. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart squeeze, and you leaned down to kiss him, the tenderness of the moment washing over you both until the sound of Puffer banging on the wall next door broke the quiet. “YOU OWE ME A THANK YOU, YOU IDIOTS!” You and Pezzy burst out laughing, the sound filling the room as the tension of the day melted away. For the first time, you realized that maybe the line between hate and love was thinner than you’d thought—and crossing it wasn’t so bad after all.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Furia

Chapter Twenty Three

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Isaac/Tamara,

Word Count: 1780

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, the thing is they hurt each other a lot, most of the time without meaning to.

A/N: We pick up right where we left off. Trouble tries to get ready to go out on tour, Dean sets off alarms.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t fair, you were not being fair. But that didn’t change that sick feeling crawling up your throat. Face burning, you looked at Dean who was pointedly not looking at you. You counted the deep breaths he took, his nostrils flared less the longer you sat in suffocating silence.

You should have said something.

You had no idea how to take it back. It wasn’t even what you said, it was how you said it, so derisively.

You wanted to disappear.

The traffic on the freeway only seemed to get worse the longer you sat. It had been a good day, even with Dean’s snippiness over the Rolling Stone article. Why did you have to open your big mouth?!

You bit the inside of your cheek, you were not going to cry. You knew how guys felt about girls crying, it’s a cop out, or a pathetic ‘get out of jail free’ card. Despite knowing girls usually cried out of frustration rather than actual sadness. You didn’t want to come off as pandering or fucking weak.

“Look—- I don’t want to make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But, we’ve all seen how well the press and the fans have responded to you two. Is this something I need to put the brakes on? Because I need to know before we start touring.”

Dean huffed. “It’s fine—- it’s not about Bela, okay? It was just an honest question.”

You waited because it felt like he had more to say. You owed it to him to let him say his piece.

He let out a self deprecating chuckle. “You really think it’s just because I’m a horndog, I’d want out?”

“Dean— I didn’t mean it like that, I—”

“No, you did. You were very clear. I just gotta know, Y/N, is there no other reason you can think of for me to want out than some easy lay?”

He wasn’t even pretending to keep his eyes on the road anymore. His jaw was tight and his eyes were dark and glossy and every hope you’d ever had fluttered in your stomach.

You were supposed to say something back.

But you had already said too much.

You couldn’t lose him over something as avoidable as a misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t— nu-uh, that’s not what I asked. I don’t want your apology, here, okay? Just—- tell me there’s something else that could get me out of this without being the bad guy.”

It hurt to look at him. 

But God was it even harder to look away.

“I can talk to Crowley— work out a timeline if you want?”

Dean shook his head, looked to the ceiling of the impala, and exhaled deeply. “No—- we’re good. But if you ever think of an answer. I want to hear you say it.”

You looked down at your lap, your phone case biting into your palm where you squeezed it. 

“I don’t know what you’re fishing for, Dean. I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologize, but I feel like I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth tonight.”

“It’s okay, Trouble. No hard feelings. Promise.”

You looked up to make sure he wasn’t still pissed.

“Seriously?”

Dean’s mouth twitched with a ghost of a smile. “Seriously.”

It wasn’t until you were safe and distracted with drinks and everyone else at Elizabeth’s that you realized Dean had called you by your real name. You couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

No one really talks about the non-glamourous tasks required before going on tour. Especially not the ones that have nothing to do with the music and everything to do with leaving your home for months on end. Your personal to-do list always fell by the wayside when it came to the band, but you were running out of time on it now. In less than 48 hours, the opening act would take the stage. 

And three days after that you would officially be on the road, for nearly six months straight. 

You shoved a quart of half-eaten fried rice into a garbage bag and moved onto the vegetable drawer. Cleaning out the fridge didn’t take very long, but going through your pantry was a nightmare. When did you even buy half of this shit?! The cans would last, but a lot of the boxed stuff was already halfway to expiring so you set them aside to drop off somewhere over the next couple of days. 

Then you wiped everything down.

By the time the kitchen surfaces were done, you were sweaty and gross. But you had too much momentum to stop there. You swept and mopped the floor. You took a breath and pushed on. Later that evening while taking out the trash, your neighbor, Isaac, waved at you over the half-fence.

“Getting ready to get back on the road then?” His accent was pleasant as ever.

You sighed and blew a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. “Getting there. I never understand how much I need to clean with it just being me. But here I am, like usual.”

He poked at some meat on the grill as he made conversation. “Tam said we’re due over tomorrow to go over things before you leave?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, anytime after you both get home from work is fine, I’ll just be forcing myself to actually pack at that point. I really appreciate you guys looking over the place.”

“It’s nothing really. Plus you more than compensate us for it, love.”

“I know, but still.” You looked down at your dust streaked tshirt and ratty sweats and decided you had been out in the world long enough looking like that. “Alright, I better get back inside. See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

“TTFN!”

You smiled to yourself as you stepped back inside through the side door. You were so lucky to have good neighbors, especially with the way your job worked. Dean had told you all about Tamara and Isaac before you moved in, making sure you knew everything from the seriousness of not asking about kids to the humor of not insulting classic Doctor Who.

When Dean remembered, he’d still meet Isaac at one of the few English style pubs for a football match every now and again.

And they didn’t seem to mind housesitting for you whenever you needed.

The smell of the dry rub from Isaac’s grill haunted you as you went back into your clean, yet emptied out kitchen. It just meant another night of delivery was in your future.

You woke up grumpy from an incessant buzzing coming from your phone. The first notification was from Twitter and you opened it without checking anything else.

Ugh, okay, fine. Dean dropped Bela off late last night. You weren’t too worried about it. So you tried to go back to sleep. But a nagging feeling in the back of your mind kept prodding the possibilities into your thoughts.

Before jumping to any conclusions, you got out of bed and started a pot of coffee.

There had been a lot of little things you had to ignore in the day-to-day of being the band’s publicist, and even more you had to try and bury as their friend. Cas’ penchant for banging journalists was one of the ongoing thorns in your side. And of course all of Lee and Pamela’s on-again-off-again nonsense came up more than was even happening. But Dean knew how to leave a hook up. He also knew when he was being tailed. 

This entire headline smelled fishy.

You bit your lip and opened your contacts. It was still too early for a business call, especially since you knew he was out until after bar close, but you couldn’t wait any longer for answers.

The phone rang in your ear and you silently begged your coffee pot to brew faster. Dean answered just before it would have sent you to his voicemail.

“I’m up— where’s the fire?” Dean mumbled into the microphone.

Without any preamble, you started in on the questions. “Have you seen the latest? People are up in arms over you squealing out of Bela’s driveway this morning. What happened?” 

“Uh, hold on,” Dean must have moved the phone or covered the mouthpiece because you could hear his voice rumbling, but couldn’t make out a single thing he said. Then came a bunch of muted background noises and a door opening and closing. “Okay, wanna run that past me again? Slower and without the accusatory tone— it’s not even fucking nine am, Trouble.”

Your suspicions continued to rise. “Where are you?”

“In a hallway.”

Not ‘the’ hallway, not ‘my’ hallway, an unspecified singular hallway.

“Dean—”

“Look. The paps were fucking vultures last night, I caught one of them trying to lowjack Baby. So, I ditched her, and Sam got her back home safe. I circled back after I knew they’d scattered and I stayed put. There’s nothing to worry about. Just people trying to make me look bad for being too smart for their slimy ways.”

Your brain hissed like a television left between channels, not a signal coming or going in either direction.

“You’re at Bela’s.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yep.”

Your business brain rebooted, slowly.

“Trouble?”

You called him, you should have said something already. “Okay, so, uh, I guess just make sure to leave publicly. Or go out for breakfast or something. Just don’t leave it how they’re spinning it.”

Dean huffed. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

“Tomorrow is the morning show interview, you said you’d pick me up? Is that still gonna happen or should I just get an Uber? I’ll just call an Uber.”

“I mean, yeah, gotta be home to drag Sam with anyway. So you don’t gotta. We’ll be there with bells on right at five.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“I should go—”

“Right, of course. Bye.”

“Talk to you later.”

You hung up and your coffee pot finally whistled, signaling it had completed brewing.

You moved through your morning routine in a fog. Even when Bela posted a gorgeous fruit plate between matching mimosas sometime before noon, you only gave it a heart and moved on to folding your next load of laundry. Once you let yourself look at what was happening, you gave into the anger. You screamed into an old hoodie until you were hoarse.

Dean was actually sleeping with Bela.

Your two best friends were fucking.

The same best friends you had set up to help make your job easier.

What the fuck was your life?

And how the hell were you supposed to pretend any of this was okay?!

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

Chapter 24: Espansivo

[piratefishmama]

For One Night Only | Part 2

Eddie remembered a lot about Steve Harrington, so to get this fresh new perspective on him… it was wild. He remembered a jock, the king of Hawkins High, the king of Hawkins in general, women wanted him, men wanted to be him, or in some cases men also wanted him. Rich, popular, kind of a jackass at times but never mean enough to warrant dislike. Would have never associated with Eddie’s kind, but yet there he was, comfortable on Eddie’s hotel bed, one long leg crossed over the other as they moved on from pleasantries to business.

Steve wasn’t there as a social call, no matter how fun it might have been to catch up. He had a job to do, and Steve was good at his job.

“Alright, considering our history, or what little of it we have, it might be a good idea to use it if asked on the carpet how we met, I can spin a story about us being secret high school sweethearts who recently reconnected as friends if you want, really big you up to the paps.”

“As lovely as that idea is since high school me would have been thrilled to have been your secret sweetheart” Steve grinned “shut up, I was a nerd with a crush leave me alone” the snigger that followed only made Eddie smile, it wasn’t a hurtful laugh, and Steve’s smile was just to radiant to be mad at. “I said shut up!”

“Shutting up” the smile stayed though as he mimed zipping his lips. Adorable bastard.

“Anyway, as lovely as that idea is, too many people knew us in high school, if the press got word that it was a lie from one of our mutual past acquaintances, eh it’s a hornets nest I don’t wanna poke. Too many what ifs, but we could say that we went to school together, it’s true, we could say that we reconnected recently and… y’know, hit it off…”

“We are hitting it off.” Steve mused, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “I like it, easy, close to the truth, very little room for mistakes. So I’m to be your date, not just a friend joining you for the evening?” That was what the invite had requested but… Steve was clearly amusing himself by making Eddie squirm a little.

“Mmmhm, yep. Steve Harrington, my date, Can time travel just exist already?”

“Haha, why?”

“Teenage me could do with a visit right this second to tell him Steve Harrington is gonna be our date someday.”

Steve covered his mouth as he laughed so sweetly, the picture of perfection as always. His nose scrunching just a little as he laughed. “Were you always this cute, Eddie?”

“Mmhm, once upon a time, I was even cuter, I swear.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, thousands wouldn’t, but I’ve always been a sucker for cute brunettes with big ol Bambi eyes, can't help but believe everything they say.” Eddie hadn’t felt his cheeks warm in years and yet there he was, hiding behind his hair, his complexion turning as red as a fire hydrant, stupid pale skin.

Speaking of brunettes, and incredibly convenient subject changes for the safety of his own composure. “Wait, YOU’RE who Nancy knows!”

“You know Nance?”

“She’s our manager now, man, gets us all the best shit! I met her in a bar after she totally blew off the journalism thing, something about sexist work environments and bosses who wouldn’t know a real story if it slapped them directly in the face. They kept giving her fluff pieces.” Nancy Wheeler, a fluff writer, the audacity of anyone who ever made that assumption. “Now she’s the most badass manager in metal history. I swear to god she’s made many a producer pale in fear at the very mention of her name.” She read all the fine print, with a goddamn magnifying glass. She’d made a grown men cry multiple times, it was badass. “She’s the coolest.”

Steve’s smile was so fond Eddie could have swooned just having it aimed at him, even if the fondness wasn’t for him, it was beautiful enough for it to be swooned over anyway. “She is, cool. I’m glad she found her people.” Even if they no doubt made a funny looking group, little not so primp and proper Nancy Wheeler among a bunch of metalheads. It fitted, in a strange kind of way, she’d always wrangled Mike easy enough.

“How did you uhm… y’know… it’s probably none of my business and I keep changing subjects so stop me if I keep jumping around I’m still a little flabbergast from seeing you at my door but uh… how’d you—y’know… what’s this uh… the whole thing like?” Steve tilted his head like a confused puppy and Eddie just kind of wanted to melt into the floor. “The escort thing.” He added on, for clarification.

“Oh, uhm. Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham, cheer captain of ’86?”

“I know her, she and Gareth have this—”

“Thing! Yes, she talks about him regularly with Robin.” Robin? He doesn’t think to ask, Steve and Robin, Robin… who would be associated with Steve a Robin whom Steve would just mention as if expecting him to know. He only knew one Robin from those days, and he didn’t even really know her.

Just kind of… existed near her in band for a few months until his style of music pissed the teacher off enough to kick him out. Couldn’t be that Robin, right? Not important.

“Oh my god don’t tell me that and expect me to keep it a secret that’s brutal of you.”

“God, tell him, please, I didn't even know who he was but she keeps talking about him and waiting for him to ask her out. Eventually she’s just going to pin him against something and kiss him so—”

“Tell her to do that but god wait until I have a camera please!” Eddie Munson was not against begging, his grin wide and eyes shimmering with gleeful mischief. “It’s reciprocated, totally and completely one hundred percent reciprocated, he is so gone on that girl, it’s adorable.”

“I will let her know, at least now I know he's one of yours and a good guy." Gareth was the best guy in Eddie's opinion, like a brother to him, not that the others werent too, but... Gareth had known he was gay since Hawkins High. Just him and Uncle Wayne in the know, and he'd always been there to support him, Gareth was good. "Anyway… we ran into each other in this café that I’d gotten a part time gig at in Indy, she looked good, healthy…” he didn’t need to say that Chrissy had had a problem. But she had, and that problem began with ‘M’ and ended with ‘other,’ hers to be specific. “She was already doing it, loving it, I was dubious, asked if she was okay, if she needed help, but no she was loving it, thriving actually, and well… I like making people feel good, both emotionally and physically” oof that was a tone that went straight to a place it shouldn’t do “why do it for free, y’know? She got me set up and the rest is history.” He enjoyed himself.

He loved his job, his love language had always been acts of service, he liked making people feel good, liked making them feel wanted, feel loved, feel seen and heard. Eddie couldn’t help himself “ever do anything… y’know…?” He really wished he could help himself sometimes.

“Sex related?” The red in his cheeks only deepened, Steve didn’t seem offended, or upset, in fact his smile only warmed, eyes crinkling at the corners, gods above and below he was beautiful, how did anyone survive after a night with him, having to let him go? “Sure, like I said, if I’m good at something, why do it for free?”

“Even with…” Eddie motioned to himself

“You?”

“N-No! No, Men—wait sorry—that’s—that’s none of my business” he turned away to move, to pace, so much energy in his body suddenly there with nowhere to go “none of this is any of my business, I don’t usually ask these kinds of—I mean it’s really wrong of me to even ask this sort of—" Steve was just there so fast, hands on Eddie’s biceps, holding him in place, Eddie hoped he couldn’t feel him almost vibrating out of his skin.

“It’s okay, Bambi” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, his wide and unblinking, like a deer in headlights in the face of Steve’s so warm and understanding, Bambi really did suit him, Steve thought, his left hand lifting to rest on Eddie’s cheek as if to ground him, it worked. God it worked. “Ask all the questions you like, but maybe save some for later, we don’t have long before we have to go.”

“…Later you’ll be leaving though...” he didn’t want Steve to leave. He didn’t want his next time seeing Steve to be part of a lottery, would he come next time? Would someone else who Eddie didn’t recognise appear in his place?

“We’re hitting it off, remember? I’m sure there’s going to be an afterparty we can both be caught sneaking away from to hang out, right?” Eddie kind of felt like he was flying. He felt like a teenager again, a nerdy, virginial teenager. He refused to acknowledge that little goblin voice telling him that Steve was actually probably just doing his goddamn job, he was on the clock dammit. He just wanted to have this. “You can ask me questions then, I promise I’ll stay.” He didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be.

“…Yeah… if that’s okay with you.”

“More than. Now how about you introduce me to the rest of Corroded Coffin, we all need to be on the same page before we get there.” Work now, catch up later. “Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can ditch the after party to hang out.” Eddie giggled, an honest to gods little giggle. He really did feel like a teenager again, only Steve was looking at him. Holding him. Grounding him. Steve Harrington was seeing him.

Teenager Eddie would have shit a brick.

“Alright, I’m warning you though, I think you let Tommy H. stuff Jeff into a locker once so don’t expect a warm welcome.” Steve grimaced a little but nodded. He was a different person now, but that wouldn’t erase the mistakes he’d made as a stupid teenager. Plenty of bridges to rebuild and apologies to give. Jeff wouldn’t be the first or the last.

“Bring it on, Bambi.” Eddie could only hide behind his hair again, bashful and flustered.

Part 4

[hollowsart]

@biqueuerious replied to [this post]:

(under a readmore cuz LONG, but I'm replying at the end

don't underestimate how long this is.. oof I'm sorry)

I'm vibrating i need to know the more suggestive parts.. Akjdkkskss but i absolutely agree and think about this all the time. Like as much as he’s portrayed as a 40 y.o. virgin type-- he could make people swoon I’m sure. I just think he’s too headstrong on revenge a lot of the time 🤦 But the man has passion! He knows romance! He’s of the film industry, exactly, he’d know how to be suave. I cannot separate him from theater, he’s dramatic, he knows how to be extravagant. He knows how to perform! And even if he were submissive, as I often like to imagine him, he’d still be able to act and be damn good at it. But yes gosh thinking of his defenses coming down and his vulnerability exposing him is so.. wow. Quentin Beck, flustered. Quentin.. shy, maybe even at a lost for words - rare for a man who’s always talking. Tripping up on his words especially if a “scene” doesn't “play out” in his head the way he “directed”. (trying to be smooth when asking someone out or making a move and getting flirted with first, thus becoming too smitten to remember his “lines”) Definitely imagine he’s possessive, and can become intensely jealous. Though i do tend to romanticize a but of toxicity in my selfships I know it’s not for everyone - at the very least I imagine Quentin sulking dramatically if he saw his partner being flirted at by someone else. And subsequently doubling down on being a romantic. Which, gosh, the praise. I cannot separate Quentin from his need for praise I mean just look at him. Look at the way he acts. He’s a sucker for praise in any aspect of a relationship and would nearly crumble to pieces if he wasn’t given that sort of attention at least once per day. He’s.. a proud man so I doubt he’d beg for it or anything especially outside of the bedroom but again, pouting. He’d pout and sulk and sigh and cross his arms or lay dramatically on a lounge and close himself off for a few hours.

------------

ehehhe.. I can't share anything more suggestive here (gosh I wish), but-- I think his passion and dedication to the bit (revenge) is endearing, though.. but a little distraction might be helpful in some cases. ;) - also, you are so right. I think the revenge stuff is mostly just the writers, if we think of this outside the comics, cuz there's "more" one can do with his character if he just has some random scheme of trying to get revenge on Spider-Man, trying to take him out and blah blah blah. it's fine, I get more Mysterio content out of it, but I know they can do a lot more with his character if they just tried.

EXACTLY. EXACTLY!!! YOU GET IT. I don't think there's a single thing else I can say to add to this.

We love a "stoic" man whose walls crumble at the mere act of receiving mutual feelings. I feel it in my bones that if he met the right person, he would finally fall silent and not know what to say at all because of them. Fumbling, stumbling, berating himself mentally when he's being too self conscious over his "failures". if he just looked a little out from himself, he may see that he is still succeeding, he is winning the appeal to the person he likes. (gOSH I wish that was me for real, for real--) (I need vulnerable, shy, flustered Quentin Beck so bad, need it like I need air--)

while I, personally, don't care much for toxicity, I can understand some of the appeal in some aspects, no hate there. I just prefer a far more healthy kind of thing, myself lol ..I'm well aware I can be very "vanilla" as they say. - BUT YES. AUGH YES. POUTY BECK.. I am oblivious to flirting. I wouldn't know if someone was flirting me at all unless they were being extremely blunt and obvious about it, otherwise, I would just assume they're giving normal compliments LOL Beck doubling down on being romantic would be super effective on me. He'd be getting ALL the praise his precious little heart desires from me.

ahhahahaha.. Mysterio begging.. -sweating- yeah. He'd be dramatic enough to do that, sulking on a lounge like some victorian woman. He absolutely would so something like that. he wouldn't have to pout and sulk for long tho, I'm more than happy to tell him he's a wonderful illusionist, his magic tricks are beyond extraordinary, no one else can do it like he does~ and much much more to his little hearts content <3 AND NONE OF IT IS A LIE. IT'S ALL TRUE.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

between the lines | interlude

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

synopsis: isabella is a sports journalist covering the premier league. she has sworn to never get involved with a football player. that is, until she meets a handsome portuguese defender. warnings: incorrect journalism references; timeline of events are not faithful to real life; i have never been to england; mutual pining; romantic comedy;  minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Interlude

“I think she wants you to sing to her!” Carlos exasperatedly requests me a lullaby. I’m sitting down on the floor in front of my floor length mirror, trying to do something nice with my hair. I'm getting ready for my first day back at work after a short lived summer break. My brother is on facetime, showing me my niece. “I swear, she was saying ‘tía’ a lot. I think she’s asking for the song.”

It’s August and I just got back to England. Getting drunk on Pinot Noir on as many Spanish islands as my money could afford was a goal I gracefully achieved over the break. Okay, maybe ‘gracefully’ is not the best word to describe my alcohol driven antics. But here I am, all pieces glued together, ready for another season.

This time last year I was a rookie in this League and by the end of the season I was having dinner dates with a Prem superstar.

None of that this time, tough. I've grown a year older since my birthday last week, and that means I’m only focusing on my career. For real this time. No more relapses, no more calls in the middle of the night.

So I sing Lucía a song and then I go to work.

“New year, new me, huh?” I point out as Melissa hugs me, she has a new hair color and is rocking a new makeup style.

“Isabella, it’s August.” Mel doesn't share my enthusiasm. “Also, I hate covering pre-season. I always end up making stupid decisions like going blonde or something.”

“What? You didn’t have fun in the US?” I’m still hugging her when I ask.

“Oh, shut up. Your insta stories didn’t help me either, you know?” Mel puts both hands on my shoulders and looks deep into my eyes. “But you had fun, right? You’re feeling good?”

“Yeah, of course. Feeling good. I feel great.” I nod, mostly to myself. “I feel amazing…” 

She agrees and continues to walk.

“I swear I wish I had forgotten most of these dudes' names.” She bites her lips looking menacingly into the horizon. I giggle, ashamed.

“I share the feeling.”

At lunch Mel ordered Japanese food and I just stared at the package for a full minute before deciding to eat.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” It’s the fourth or sixth time she said that to me, ever since she noticed something was off a couple months ago.

It was a Japanese restaurant but I almost didn’t notice at first, being too focused on something else. He wore a button up shirt and I felt like dying.

I remember saying something like:

“I don’t really like Portuguese food. Too many eggs. You guys put eggs in everything. Egg on the entrance, egg on the fish, for desert? Egg flavored cake. Francesinha is a sandwich with egg on top of it. That’s not where the egg is supposed to go, Rúben.”

And he laughed, he laughed at every joke I said. At the end of the night my jaw was hurting from how I smiled at him and I wondered if he felt the same.

It’s a double-edge sword, this whole falling in love thing. Even being the one saying goodbye, I still hurt like I was dumped by my first boyfriend at 16 all over again.

At first it was easy, everything can be a distraction if you try hard enough. But with time the thing I was trying so hard to hide became bigger and louder in my mind. The sound of the laughter, the clicking of the cutlery.

The realization that I chose this, standing outside of Wembley with a microphone in hand; over whatever that was.

This is fine, I’m great.

“How are you feeling about this season?” I question a random City fan outside the stadium.

“Good, yeah.” The lad shrugs.

“You guys already won everything, do you think the players-” I start, but he stops me.

“Nah, we didn’t win everything. There’s always more to win. We only got 3 out of 4 last season.” When he says that, I realize that around 20 meters away from me, in the distance, is the Manchester City bus. I walk faster.

The sound of wanting gets drowned out by a crowded pub and suddenly it's easier to breathe again and everything really is fine.

“Rice, rice, baby!” It’s Victor’s voice that gets a genuine laugh out of me. “I fucking love Wembley!”

We’re all meeting at the pub after the Community Shield game and the atmosphere is exactly like the first day back to school, but with a lot more beer involved.

“Please don’t tell me you have money on Arsenal winning the league.” Seb is sitting next to me, pointing his green bottle to Victor.

“I do. Yes, go ahead, laugh all you want.” Victor raises his voice, looking offended. “I’m not even being optimistic, mate, it’s just the plain truth.”

The entire table laughs and we almost can't hear when he continues. “They’re stronger this year, guys, hear me out.”

“You’re right to be confident, but personally I’m not putting money on Mikel.” Mel says.

I bite my tongue when they ask my opinion.

“I’m being a hundred percent professional this year, no betting, no guessing, just straight analyzing.” The table booed me and I raised my hands in the air, in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t even want to be here. I wish I was in Australia right now.”

“Don't remind me!” Mel sighs and lightly slaps me. “We’re literally the only women not covering the World Cup right now.”

“No whining! Come on, let’s toast.” Seb raises his bottle once again, but this time we all follow. “To a busy and long season!”

And we all repeat: “To a busy and long season!”

[sneakyswag]

2, 16, and 20 for the writer's ask game?

2. Is there a least favorite character or title you dislike writing for?

Hm. Pretty hard to say. All the stuff I write about is important to me in a way. I’d say Twisted Desire, which is a fic based off of [this post] I’m STILL writing the prologue for. I want it to be absolutely beautiful and as presentable as possible. I know writing isn’t meant to be easy, but I want to tone it up a notch by using techniques and ideas I’ve never used before. Executing all of that is exhausting, yes, and I’m only half way through planning the entire story. (It will perhaps contain 20-30 chapters, depending on how much I decide to write). Characters though? Probably just a side character I need to write two lines for but since it’s only two lines it has to be perfect like sorry I don’t make the rules. (I’m being held at gunpoint by myself).

16. Any ideas you wanted to write about, but never did?

Yeesh, lots! A lot of them are shower thoughts if I’m being completely honest. I had an idea years ago about Bass (Forte) and Dark Pit kind of being best friends or roommates due to their similar personalities, but now that I think of it, they’d probably loathe each other. Also had an idea of Bass owning a bike shop or a mechanics shop and working there. I might write it in the future. It was supposed to be a BassRoll fic because man I love that ship it’s hilarious. Also had a lot of Axl, X and Zero angst but man ask my mutuals, I’m always talking about angst, hah! Also some fluffy ones here and there, but you know, just couldn’t get around it. If I haven’t written it, it’s because I haven’t written it down on the nearest piece of paper or notes app and forgot. So yeah :D

20. What’s one thing you want your readers to know about you?

This might get just a tiny bit personal but it’s fine but just in case yk.

Anything that I write, whether it be angst, fluff, adventure, etc, is based off of a real experience in a way. People tell me that my angst hits them hard or is so devastating, or that my fluff is so adorable it makes them melt. Truth is, stuff I write, is still I can’t feel anymore. I write about anger at times, I don’t get angry a lot. I write about sadness a lot, I can’t remember the last time I cried. Here’s something I tell myself a lot: I draw and write stuff to make characters feel things that I can’t feel. Don’t get me wrong, I do feel sad, I do feel angry, I just don’t express it. Also on a lighter note, I love reblogs, likes, comments, random questions, participating in little games with my mutuals. It’s all so fun! So yeah, you can ask me anything. I love messing around on here!

[godsoopsiewoopsie]

Idk an intro I guess??? idk how to make these so if it sucks… idk mb?

Starting off, I am a little vague with my age, which is on purpose. All I will say (on tumblr) is that I am above the legal drinking age of the country I live in. (im an adult ((fucking barely jfc))

I, also, am a bit vague on the country I live in as well; this is also on purpose. All I will say is that I do not live in the U.S.

(^^^I HAVE been open about these things on other socials in the past, but as for tumblr I’d rather keep this information to myself for now)

I’d personally rather people not refer to me with my irl name because it makes me a bit anxious

(^^^ you are exempt from this if we are mutuals OR you know me irl)

although I am fine with people referring to me with my username or shortened versions of it (ie: “oopsie”/“woopsie” “oops” etc…)

I go by any pronouns but I do typically default to she/they. I am a little iffy about he/him pronouns but masculine compliments (for whatever reason ((?)) are fine. (also when I say any pronouns I mean ((almost)) ANYTHING) Fuckin call me bingus for all i care.

^^^ I’m genderfluid if that helps lol.

^^^ Not on this note, but a similar one, I am bisexual & asexual (or biromantic. Idk if those things can be interchangeable but I use them that way because I do identify as biromantic, but it’s easier to tell people I’m bi & ace for simplicity’ sake)

I wouldnt say I post about anything specific, but a lot of reoccurring themes are:

Will Wood (and the tape worms ((mostly memes that I make but there’s other stuff too))

My cats (I have 4)

Occasionally stuff about my personal life (<this stuff doesn’t usually stay up for very long)

Balders Gate 3

Minecraft (but not super often, I just like the game and I’ve been playing it since i was like 7 or 8 lol)

Among random reblogs, stupid shit I think of throughout the day, etc. Typically this stuff just has to do with my adhd hyperfixations at the moment

I do have various undiagnosed mental health issues, but what I AM diagnosed with are: ADHD & Anxiety. (this list will likely grow as i talk to my doctor more and more about my issues, but for now thats what i know im dealing with)

I DO have other socials, but a majority of those accounts are private for a reason (anxiety).

As of right now I’m most active on tumblr and if you’d like to talk to me about literally anything (so long as you’re not weird) my dms are open :) Although I urge you to note that, because of my anxiety, there is not a 100% guarantee that I will respond to dms; and if you do decide to reach out to me for whatever reason just keep that in mind /pos

also just some very generic D.N.Is (racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc, yk the drill; just don’t be a p.o.s. i will block you)

also a key for some reoccurring tone indicators i use

/j - joking

/hj - half joking/kind of joking (?)

/srs - serious

/s - sarcastic

/gen or /genq - genuine / genuine question

/nm - not mad

/nsx - not sexual(izing)

/st - satire (idk if that’s the “official” tone indicator for that, that’s just what i use to separate /s /srs etc because they all look a little similar)

/pos - positive (this is separate from p.o.s. which is just an abbreviation for piece of shit)

/nf - not forced

If I think of more I’ll add them, but that’s all I can really think of off the top of my head

As for tone indicators, I personally don’t use them ALL the time because 90% of the time I am joking; but if there is a chance of my words/tone being misconstrued I do use them because they make communication a little easier. (imo)

Also, they’re not necessary if you’re talking to me. I personally don’t need them all the time, but I do find that they help sometimes because I do struggle with stuff like that on occasion.

[vizthedatum]

Omg I didn’t even post on here that I got my first T shot today!!

Maybe I’m hypersensitive or just very imaginative… but my body already feels more at ease.

—

Today was a rough day though. I advocated for one of my friends at their health appointment (and I was happy to, this was needed). I just couldn’t hold in my dismay at the whole entire healthcare system in this country.

My friend is disabled physically and mentally. It’s been a challenge all around. They’re homeless, and it seems like so many institutions have just let them down, despite them trying.

All of this has downstream consequences on my friend. It worsens their state.

And who’s left to pick up the pieces? It’s either them or their friends/family.

And where can we get help with care coordination? There are resources but they’re all strained or somewhat conditional.

And I rant about this to my therapist all the time: mutual aid is great but sometimes the needs are too much for any one person or social support network. What happens then??

Well I’ll tell you what happens: people fall through the cracks and it gets harder for them to climb out of their predicaments.

—

Sigh.

I love where my life is going.

Why can’t I bring everyone up with me? Why?? WHY?

I tried my best today. We have a care plan going… and I’m putting in more energy than I may afford. I’m trying to hold myself more accountable to make sure I don’t drain myself like last month.

I love myself, but I refuse to see people I care about suffer like this. I know they have to also be willing to put in the work - I know this. But when the systems are rigged like this… it’s hard.

But we have a plan.

And I’m severely optimistic. Maybe it’s the T and euphoria… but maybe it’s just me allowing myself to truly put myself and my values at the forefront. I have been way more communicative with my friend in need and everyone else. I don’t want to compromise on this effort - I want to give her a fighting chance, with both of our consent.

And I want us to live our lives. Yes, I know she might undo everything I’m doing or make mistakes…. fine! It’s life! After all I’m one to talk - look at the people I’ve been in long-term relationships with and how I fucking let them treat me. Look at how long I waited to start HRT (meanwhile my friend is 22 and has been on it for 2 years already (I’m 34)).

—

I’ve put in a lot of effort in navigating the healthcare system largely alone. And I work in healthcare.

She doesn’t need to suffer through that to get baseline care and support.

I wish someone would have done this for me. So I’m doing it for her, purposely - and all I’m doing is just making sure the right people and systems are informed and coordinated. That the right information gets communicated. That her concerns are taken seriously instead of being dismissed (I’ve read some pretty disappointing and DISGUSTING medical notes in her chart).

—

Lives shouldn’t be more complicated than it needs to be. I can help with that in this small way - it feels more important.

[creative-time]

A proper fair well

Well… here we are, I’m actually leaving

I just want to be clear, I love dhmis. The original series, and the pilot, will always have a special place in my heart. I’m still a fan, just not so much of a fan that I would spend like 75% of my life dedicated to a tumblr blog about it anymore.

Maybe it’s just burnout, or the fact that I was so disappointed in the tv series that it finally broke me, or the fact that I started this blog when I was 14 at the beginning of 2016.

I started running this blog when I was 14, and I’m 21 now. For nearly 7 years now. We had some good laughs, I met some people that would change my life, for better or worse. And I could have never imagined that I would gather so many people together like this.

And I really hate to sound ungrateful, but, it still kinda makes me a little sad when people say I’m the dhmis news guy, because this blog was always supposed to be more than that. It was supposed to be ALL of the dhmis fandom. All the art, all the memes, all the conversations. This blog was about you guys! The people who made this fandom even possible! The people who built it from nothing, for everyone now to enjoy. I loved sharing news, but I loved sharing your, and my, creations even more…

I guess being considered the “dhmis news guy” just kinda made me think that I was easily replaceable in the fandom, like… if one day I stopped, someone else would just fill the hole that I was in super easily and no one would really notice I was gone.

I think a lot of people forget that… I’m a person… Creative-Time IS a person… I was a person this whole time… making sure this blog didn’t turn to dust and constantly being ridiculed, mocked, or straight up harassed and sent death threats to the point were I would sometimes cry myself to sleep. But I realized that all that just wasn’t worth the energy, this wasn’t worth the energy.

There’s probably so much more I could say here… I just wouldn’t know where to start. And maybe I’m saying all this super wrong and someone is gonna look through it with a fine-tooth comb and tell everyone that I hate them and tell everyone I’m a horrible person, which perhaps I deserve.

I would like to thank all the people that have actually tried to get to know me, I’m sure you know who you are. You all made running this blog a little bit more happier for me, and I hope you all are happy too, even if we never cross paths again.

I think the only thing that could ever get me back into the fandom and this blog is if there is more dhmis that is actually good, or the pilot get released in HD in some shape or form. Other than that, I think I’m done here…

I won’t be deleting this blog, but I would request no new followers or dms unless it’s the pilot in full hd.

If anyone really wants to ask any follow up questions, please send them to the ask box on my main @cosmicxd but I would like to remind you all, I’m an adult, my friends and mutuals are adults, so if your under the age of 18 I would suggest not following my main because me and my friends are… UNHINGED and we have a whopping ZERO filters. I really don’t want to block any of you but if I know you are a minor and you follow my main anyway, I will not hesitate to block you, so just don’t. thanks I’m advance.

Now, a few things that I should wrap up in a bow.

Here’s what might be the final piece of artwork I do for TeVi and Purple Girl, I will try to make a series to put them in in the future but I want to work on another original series right now so it might not be for a while. So there are not really consider dhmis ocs anymore I guess. Just puppet ocs now

Also, a final update for Mini Mean Steve: Finally found some model magic and Mod Podge glad to say he is finally complete! He will be my most treasured possessions

Thank you for reading all the way through this, and for one final thing

Here a sketch of me kissing icehell Tony and Paige. (Because if im going out, I’m going out with a hell-freezing, earth-shattering BANG!!!)

Thank you all once again, and I’ll see you on the flip side!

-Creative Time

[another-heroine]

Flying Close to the Sun - Part One

A/N: another itch scratched as it should be lol

I was thinking about write a crossover with Ocean like this one for a long time, but I was insecure for many reasons, one of them was my judgement that Ekaterina's traits were not 'sharpen' enough. But here we are.

Thank you, @aelyosos for lending me your pirate lad. I really love his concept and you are one of the sweetest mutuals I ever had.

He must be dead. The ringing inside his ears certainly were Pharasma’s bells. Ocean should know better that sooner or later the Lady of the Graves would get tired of his boldness and catch him. After all, every legend had its end, why would his be different?

“To hell those—” He couldn’t end the phrase. The tiefling rubbed his eyes angrily, feeling the ringing echoing inside his brain. If he could get up, he would bury his head on the wall until that stops or he passes out.

He was so thirsty. At least, his body was laid on a soft mattress… But he didn’t recall that place. Pale curtains were closed, but it was still possible to spot sun rays infiltrating through the thin fabric. There was a rambling outside, with wagon wheels crossing the streets and children shouting. Everything was too bad — and loud — when you were drunk like him. Ocean wanted to puke, but his stomach seemed empty.

Perhaps that was the problem: he was also hungry.

Before he could gather forces to turn his body, the room’s door opened. On instinct, Ocean immediately stood up, his tail snapped over the bedside table and knocked out some souvenirs. The floor was moving under his feet, but he held on, ready for anything — or anyone — that was coming through that door.

But for his astonishment, it wasn’t an angry innkeeper or a voluptuous lover. Actually, it was a woman with copper-colored hair, carrying a bowl. Noticing the tiefling looking at her like he just saw a ghost, she muttered, “Good morning. It’s good to see you awake”.

Ocean didn’t know where to look. She wasn’t mad at him, and he was wearing pants and a shirt. Most probably they didn’t have a one night stand. If he could have a glimpse of what happened last night it would make things less confusing, but everything was a blur…

“Hey, take it easy.” She noticed his stiff body. “You are safe here.”

“But what happened?” he finally said.

She glanced at the small plant pot that he broke, and rested the lidded bowl on the bedside. “You were found unconscious in the streets.”

“Oh.”

It was true, he still remembered the innkeeper shouting at him before kicking him out. But that scene was so common that it could be a false memory.

“And you hit your head.” She pointed to her own.

The man moved his hand to touch his forehead and felt a trail of stitches, from the hairline to the temple. He was still intrigued, but slightly relieved. “Aye, it explains a lot why it hurts…”

She muffled a chuckle. “I daresay it is not only because of the hit. You were drunk as a skunk. And now you can’t even stand up.”

Ocean narrowed his eyes. “Who, me? Of course not, lass. I’m fine and in one piece, I just need to catch my thing—”

The stranger only put one hand on his shoulder and gave a little shove. That was enough for Ocean’s legs to fail for good, and he fell down onto the mattress.

“As I said”, she stated flatly, “No, you are not”. 

The tiefling opened and shutted his mouth, trying to formulate a statement, but soon he gave up and asked, “Bloody hell, who are you? Are you being paid to keep me captive here?”

“Me? Not at all.” She shrugged, taking a chair on the corner of the room. “The Saranrae’s local priests had the worst plans for you, trust me.”

Hearing about those fanatics made his tail curl nervously. They have been more ruthless lately.

“And you are a priest of…”

“No one. It’s just me and the Green Faith.”

Ocean arched his brows. It was unusual. A beautiful woman with a soft demeanor taking him from Saranrae's mad dogs. He had to give in; whoever she was, she saved him, after all.

The pirate sighed, “Aye, I believe ya… But, what’s your name?”

She sat before him and introduced herself, “Ekaterina. Now hold still, I have to clean those stitches”.

He straightened up on the edge of the bed. Ekaterina opened the bowl and a strong scent of lavender filled the room. She rolled up her sleeves, revealing curious blue tattoos and started her task.

While she was taking care of his forehead, Ocean couldn’t help but think that there was something odd on her. He couldn’t tell if that was one of the hangover side effects, but Ekaterina was… glowing. She was very pale, although had a pinkish alive undertone, but also there was a golden shine coming from her. And despite the cold room, her hands were very warm.

Suddenly, one thing connected to another.

“You are an aasimar.”

She smiled, amused. “You have a good perception for someone tipsy.”

“I’m not tipsy,” he grumbled. “And I just thought out loud, sorry. It didn’t mean to sound rude.”

“No offenses taken.”

Definitely she didn’t give a damn about his suspicions. Actually, she looked very concentrated while taking care of his stitches.

Probably because she knows how to cut somebody open as well. He swallowed hard.

Ocean continued, “But… I thought that every aasimar had metal colored eyes. And yours are like… an icy sea?”

They were not golden or silvery. Her irises were so pale that it was impossible to spot her pupils, if she had any at all. Ekaterina looked amused with his observations, and replied without turning her focus from his wounds, “Well, maybe I’m one of a kind. Not every tiefling has red skin, too, you know?”

That was one of few moments when he was grateful for not blushing easily. Ocean nodded, embarrassed. “Fair.”

They remained silent. He almost couldn’t catch her touching, or the suture being adjusted. Ocean was still feeling sick, but the lavender smell calmed his nerves slowly.

“I didn’t ask yet, but what’s your name?”

She broke the silence, squeezing the handkerchief over the bowl. They were almost done, and he felt his heart getting small.

“Ocean.”

“I suppose that you are not from Mendev either.” She stared at him.

He looked around, like there were more people there. “Who else isn’t?”

“Me.” She shook her head and got up.

The tiefling grimaced. “Seriously? What a lass like you are doing in a town like this?”

Ekaterina giggled. “I ask myself every day. But… it’s better than my homeland.” She peeked through the curtains. “I don’t know how long you are here in Kenabres or if you plan to stay longer, but be careful. Lately things are getting hard for anyone who doesn’t look… decent.”

Ocean scoffed, “Do you mean, people who look like demons?”

“Likewise. They are searching for witches and all sorts of outcasts as well.”

He lowered his eyes and pondered. “And you risked your life for me. Why?”

“I can’t just watch people being kicked and walk away like it was nothing!” She frowned.

Ocean took a deep breath and got up. “I owe you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, no, I mean it,” he chuckled, raising a finger. “ 'specially when a beautiful lass saves my arse!”

Ekaterina looked at him with curiosity. Afterwards, she shook her head. “It sounds like you are getting back to normal. That’s great.”

Ocean smiled back. Being friends with that aasimar would be interesting.

[firewoodfigs]

❄️ 🌤️

BRING IT BABY

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

We've still got a long way to go before we get there, but I quite enjoyed writing this silly little piece last night:

“You know, I realise there’s a lot I don’t know about you,” she ventures nervously, trying to keep the accusatory edge off her voice. “I feel like you’re always asking about me, but I hardly ever get to inquire about you.”  He smiles. “That’s fine. I’m not a huge fan of talking about myself.”  “Me neither,” she responds, wrinkling her nose. “But…”  But what? She yearned for a mutual intimation of truths? She longed to build some sort of emotional intimacy that transcended beyond a one-way street; that wasn’t just predicated on her own immediate needs?  “You’re always demurring and deflecting,” she continues, hoping she sounds less critical and more blasé. What she would give to have Roy’s social skills now; he would’ve executed this perfectly. “And prevaricating. Almost like a politician.”  He laughs, paying her no heed as he continues driving down the highway. “That’s a lot of big words for a lumber like me.”

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

Sometimes I worry that when the time comes, I won’t know how to grieve over someone who’s caused me so much grief. That the only thing I’ll feel is relief. From being set free, from finally having my wings unclipped.

fanfic asks

[schwarzwaldcr]

The Do’s and Don’ts of Reblogging From Me!

or What I Do And Don’t Allow To Be Reblogged [trust me, this list will not go how you think it’s gonna]

Do’s

ART [mine or someone else’s I may reblog too]: As long as captions are not erased and credit remains intact, please do reblog drawn art! We as creators put A LOT of effort into our art, so I wholly condone this!

WRITING [mine or someone else’s I may reblog too]: Writing gets a worse rap on the reblogs than drawn art. If you like my writing, or someone else’s I have reblogged, pleasepleasePLEASE reblog it too! It really helps in the long run and makes us authors feel nice and beloved!

AESTHETIC POSTS: Pictures or sayings I reblog are totally okay to reblog from me! Once upon a time, a very long time ago, when Tumblr RPCs were new babybabs, we didn’t do fancy promos and friends very rarely shouted us out. We found each other by the posts mutual followers reblogged because hey guess what! We share an aesthetic, we’re totally chill with each other!

MUSIC/VIDEO POSTS: Similar to above, if you like a piece of music or video media I post or reblog, if it jives with you too, please don’t feel like you can’t use it too! This is why we’re friends, man, we share these interests, for our muses or for ourselves.

ASK MEMES/PROMPTS: Similar to Aesthetic posts up there, these were also a way to say ‘hey we have similar interests and here’s a fun way to start interacting with me!’ I’m totally down with people reblogging memes from me. Sure, sending one or two in before you do it is appreciated but at this point, if it jives with you [and especially if the source blog has been deactivated/changed their name/whatever it is tumblr code does to people nowadays] feel free to grab it!

ASKS NOT LABELLED AS RP: I wrote that. It counts as written art. Headcanons, drabbles, things not made for a RP are totally okay to reblog!

PROMOS: I know I’ve been ragging on ‘fancy promos’ this whole post to this point, but times do change and the RPC culture nowadays is ‘fancy promos or bust’. Which is weird, when did that happen. But if you like, obviously my promos [and my pinned post, for that matter] are all rebloggable! Since the information is virtually the same across the board, it don’t matter where you get it from me, if you feel like being nice [and I appreciate you if you do!], feel free to do the reblog thing!

OOC POSTS: As long as it’s not labelled with something below, OOC interaction on-dash is perfectly fine by me! Some of the best partners I’ve had were the ones who had a back and forth with my ‘drunken liveblogging’ threads, it was great! I post a picture of my cat? Reblog it and say what you think! It’s perfectly fine and over the years, I learned it helps break the ‘You Are So Intimidating’ ice! We’re all dorks here. We’re writing interactive fanfiction. We’re not intimidating in the least.

Don’ts

TAGGED ‘TO BE DELETED/DO NOT REBLOG/ETC’: This is it. Anything I specifically label as ‘don’t touch’? Pretty straight-up and self-explanatory. Replying is great, but don’t reblog the stuff I’m specifically asking you not to. I’m usually pretty good at letting you know, so you don’t gotta worry about me not tagging something I don’t want spread around.

RP THREADS YOU ARE NOT PART OF: Common courtesy really; if you’re not dealt in, Liking is chill. Reblogging is not. The usual on this one.

Hopefully, straight-forward! ohyeah and this post is totally rebloggable too, if you want it.