#but i am not mentally capable of writing smut so <3

[ctheathy]

Yandere Eepop the Performer NSFW Headcanons

Eepop x Reader

Yandere+NSFW Headcanons

Short Concept

Author's note: I personally interpret Eepop as a male. But I am always willing to write for those who'd see her as a girl instead ;)) Just don't forget to mention which gender you'd think is more fitting if you wanna request for Eepop <3

Eepop/Reader [Romantic Tendencies]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Both reader+character are of legal age or aged-up for obvious reasons in this post!

These are smut headcanons, read at own risk. dom!Reader+sub!Eepop • You're basically gonna step on him LOL • Masochism on top of some more masochism • Obsession • Another sadism streak Reader • Poor mental state • Punishment • Harassment • Sexual fantasies • Dirty talk • Onomadek's abuse mentioned • Degradation • Climax mentioned •

I believe it's quite easy to say that Eepop is a rather submissive and meek person to be around. Even as a yandere with his nasty mentality, he would still be obedient to what you tell him ... probably even more so. Cause unlike usually being fearful of being hurt, in this state Eepop relishes in his pain. Years upon years of Onomadek's physical abuse, torturous abilities on the mental state and hostile behaviour having affected Eepop greatly in the head. You could literally make him bow down with the snap of a finger and that's not even all of it. You could walk all over him and he would absolutely love being under your heel. You could treat him like a personal footstool and he would still ask for more. You'd definitely have Eepop as a masochist because he’ll be craving the idea of being physically dominated and hurt. If you were to step on a tiny insect next to him, it wouldn't take long for his body to react. Getting so shaky and aroused that he’d be seconds away from begging you to step on him too.

Oh, when this man proposes the idea, you should absolutely take your chance and do it too. I suggest you try remaining partly gentle about it though, as we're not necessarily here to cause any physical harm. But as long as you keep a high posture, basically threatening him with the sharp heel of your footgear, he’d be completely at your mercy in that situation. He would try to resist himself for a bit, try to ignore how turned on he is by you, try to ignore how much he wants you to continue. But eventually his breath would start becoming erratic, eyes half lid as he whimpers out your name while squirming.

But as soon as you brought the heels out he would probably be trembling all over, trying to plead with you to be gentler with him and not get his hopes up and then crush them. Like you would just constantly be walking around him, keeping him on edge by coming dangerously close to stepping on him but never actually doing it. And the sharp tip wouldn't even dig into him, but instead pinched in between his thighs as it's pressing his crotch. Which is treatment Eepop would go absolutely wild over. A person that can dominate him in every aspect but in such an oddly gentle way? A person that squeezes his crotch but doesn’t dig their heel into his flesh? Eepop's mind would be utterly filled with the most erotic and sweet thoughts about you. And the fact that you couldn't even bother to look at him would make it even worse. You would have the capability to absolutely stomp down on him, but you may also actively just choose not to.

There would definitely be better options instead, like teasingly dragging your footwear across his face, tracing his jawline before sliding them down his body. Squeezing his rump as you apply the pressure to his hips, looking down at him with such an unimpressed gaze. Dragging your foot down his side like it’s nothing, your heel poking his skin like pins in a balloon. You’d be able to hear a high-pitched yelp every time you moved it along his skin, his tail flinching and becoming stiff as it happens. And he would likely just freeze in place, not knowing what to do or knowing whether he could move or not, trying to act like it didn't sting a little bit.

I honestly cannot even imagine you putting your heel against his throat or near it and NOT having him be completely terrified and start frantically pleading with you like you hold his life in your hands. He would definitely be in shambles after a session like that, with the worst part being that he embarrassingly craves more of it. He would be pouring with desire, he would want nothing more than to please you. He would probably have to be force-fed water or he would dehydrate from how much he would be salivating. You would be able to do whatever you wanted with him like this and he would be a complete mess.

You should have absolutely zero shame with this boy. You could toy with his feelings and fantasies like a master, being the reason why his mind starts to fall apart like a house of cards. Holding even less respect for him if he were to fall onto his knees and moan for you to take advantage of his mind and body, at the verge of completely begging for you to do what you want with him and use him as a puppet. And I wouldn't even be surprised if you pushed him that far that he ends up releasing before the ordeal is even done, the white strings that squirt out of his body now ruining your footgear ...which would likely, understandably make you scoff in disgust. Your flirting turning more passive aggressive.

“You would've preferred to empty your load inside of me instead, didn't you..~?”

“You'd much rather prefer your meat to be buried deep within me and your sticky semen being shot and squirt into me like you were trying to overload me with your mark, wouldn't you?”

“I'm betting you would want to fill me up with your seed. ...Gross.”

A moment where you'd really just be playing along and feeding into those fantasies. Where in return his junk would keep twitching in excitement by just hearing it. Any sense of sanity draining from his face the longer you keep it up, as his tail begins to sway excitedly at this treatment. I can absolutely imagine his body having a similar reaction too, like his hips twitch up involuntarily, his breath shivers and quivers every time you even say something. His whole body spasming every now and again when you do this and you laugh and mock him for it. You'd be able to get him all kinds of riled up in the most suggestive ways possible. Just the mere thought of him hearing the things that you'd say to him and his body is just absolutely tingling with raw excitement and arousal.

Where in response you could be behaving so bipolar that you'd go from treating him like an angel and telling him “good boy” to looking down at his whimpering puppy-like face and calling him a filthy dog. But it's getting to a point where you're not even wrong for doing that, he is the filthiest boy of them all. He's so out of control that he deserves to be put down and punished. And this is when he'll start getting into the dirty names. I could easily imagine Eepop's body being sent into a state of pure primal hunger. You're playing with his fantasies and desires, teasing him with those sweet words and making his mouth water for more. I’d bet that at some point he’d be trying to keep his mouth closed to prevent any saliva from dribbling out and down his chin, but his breathing would become more and more shallow as you continued to tease him.

His poor, poor eyes would roll back so much that he would be able to see the inside of his skull. It would be so much for him to handle that he would immediately become completely overwhelmed, turning into this twitching, drooling mess of a boy that's desperate for you to keep giving anything to him. It would be the biggest test to his willpower ever and he wouldn’t survive it. He would simply give in and beg the entire time.

Where he'd honestly just have a whole mental breakdown at that point. He’d fall to his knees and plead with you with tears in his eyes. Eepop would be at a low point like he’s never been in his entire life, he would be the most submissive and pathetic person in existence and he would absolutely want you to have so much power over him. He’d be nothing but “give me more of yourself, I want you to own me. I want you to make me yours. please... please…” and doing anything in order to get it. He’s so weak and susceptible and you'd know exactly what you're doing to him. All your little comments and questions of degradation, the way you hold and present yourself, your voice, your body, your lips...

EVERYTHING is a form of control for him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

#popee the performer x reader #popee x reader #popee the ぱフォーマー #popee the performer #ptp x reader #yandere ptp #yandere ptp x reader #ptp #ptp eepop #yandere popee #eepop #eepop the performer #yandere eepop #yandere popee x reader #yandere popee the performer #yandere eepop x reader #eepop x reader #mirror popee #mirror popee x reader #yandere mirror popee

[mellowthorn]

AO3 Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @tragediegh! I've only posted like two fics since I last filled this, so the answers probably won't have changed all that much. But I might as well do it anyway :^)

1. How many works do you have on ao3(or masterlist)? 6 (although one is partially fanart)

2. What’s your total ao3 word count? 100,837

3. What fandoms do you write for? Realm of the Elderlings

4. Top five fics by kudos? After the Sun Has Set, Someone Other Than Us, On This Silent Winter Eve, Ever Your Fool and Indulgence

5. Do you respond to comments? I try, because of how much I love them, though I've not done a good job at it this winter/spring. Idk why I've developed this weird mental block about them, but I'm trying my best to get over it

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably Someone Other Than Us?? With Ever Your Fool there's at least a chance that things might turn around after Bee is born, and the rest either lead to canon (which is a tragedy in itself) or have a happy ending.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? On This Silent Winter Eve, which was my attempt at writing the fluffiest and sweetest fic that I am capable of.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Can't say I ever have gotten any.

9. Do you write smut? Occasionally.

10. Craziest crossover? I've never written crossover fanfic (if KH fanfic doesn't inherently count, but none of that's published anyway).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nah

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope

14. All time favorite ship? Fitzloved!

15. What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Like half of my WIPs are like this haha. Especially when the outline gets out of hand and what was meant to be a oneshot ends up as a multichapter

16. What are your writing strengths? Hmm. Coming up with emotionally devastating scenarios and really wallowing in the characters' self-doubt and misery, for sure.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Descriptions, and any kind of figurative or poetic prose. Pretty much every single environmental description or a simile or a metaphor that I've ever written has cost me an immense amount of pain and tears.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I guess it makes sense if that sort of thing also happens in the source material, but I personally wouldn't do it in any other case.

19. First fandom you wrote in? Uhhhh HP, sadly.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? After The Sun Has Set is my baby, but I am also particularly fond of The Cold Side of the Bed. I'd wanted to write something in a reverse chronological order for a while, and I think the tragic irony it gave to the latter parts worked well.

#tag game #writing

[sophieswundergarten]

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you for tagging me, @myfairkatiecat <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

29 so far

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

81,543 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly MBS, but I have a few very short Wolf 359 fics

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Weirdly, Lights and Sounds (And What Comes After) is one of my top fics in Hits and Kudos. Which. Strange. But other than that it's Of Missed Opportunities and Scaled Fences, Mental Literature, Chance Encounter, and my first fic and biggest titular regret Reynie Going Comatose Apology Fic Where it Actually Ends Happy

So, basically y'all like seeing me bully Reynie /j /lh

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! It can be really intimidating sometimes because people are really nice to me and it doesn't feel like it can be real, but I do my best to respond to every comment I get.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Deep Space Survival Tip #552 because of the things it hints at with Hui. I love him so much but I didn't want to fight canon so it's a bit sad.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I work really hard to have happy endings, but the silliest one is likely The Best Solution to Nightmares is Buying a House because it fulfils my headcanon of the Society all living together when they grow up and I also ignored federal laws in order to explain where they got the money adsjkdf

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

I haven't yet, thankfully. I think I'd probably just cry.

9. Do you write smut?

Absolutely not! To do so would make me personally really uncomfortable, so I don't think I ever will.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No. I've never tried, but I have a feeling I'd be pretty bad at it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, but none of my fics have been up for very long anyway

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! I'd be happy to help in any way I could if someone wanted to, though

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, but it sounds fun :)

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I don't really do ships, but I like all friendships and familial relationships!

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Um. Honestly all of them right now. I'm kind of Going Through It with my writing at the moment.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don't know about strengths, but I love writing dialogue. It's usually what comes to me first.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Holding out long enough to finish something properly! I get nervous halfway through and abandon a lot of projects because I worry so much.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I love writing dialogue, but I am terrified of messing up another language and upsetting people, so probably not.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

MBS! I had never really tried fanfic writing before last summer, so it was very exciting for me to try.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Probably I don't wanna know I'm not capable. I feel silly saying it, but it's pretty long for me, and it was such a struggle that I'm still really proud I was able to finish it at all.

#Thank you once again Katie! #This was really fun #Tag games

[milktearosethorn]

13, 23, and 24 for the writer ask game! :D

13.Any segment of your work that made you cry while writing it? (because it moved you deeply)

..... Yeah it's a little embarrassing because it's from a literal smut fic that I initially wrote while I was high (and then the fic spiraled into something with an actual plot after some unhinged discord calls with my friend dlakhfdskj) (AND I was so new to the fandom that I knew like nothing about the lore and got a LOT wrong). But, in the later parts of 'Brown Guilty Eyes and Little White Lies' I wrote c!Wilbur backsliding mentally and there were some bits that got extra real for me and I did tear up a bit. When I write about mental health struggles it comes from a vulnerable part of me, and I'm a naturally sensitive person. (PSA: If anyone here ever reads that fic pls pls don't judge me for the first half 😭😭 especially the smutty parts).

23.What work of yours would you like to have the biggest impact on the fandom?

It's not published yet but I started writing a rarepair fic that basically doesn't exist on AO3 yet expect for 3 porn collections. If it could impact the fandom by getting someone else inspired to write it that would cool as hell >:D

And, this next thing is cheating because it's not about a particular work, but in general I would love if I could inspire more people to write plot-driven Karlnapity fics. Despite the high fic count on AO3, there's deceptively few that really focus on them as the main pairing, and even fewer that dive into their crazy intertwined storylines in canon. And imo I think there's a lot of missed potential! Especially with everything about Karl's Tales lore and his declining mental capabilities, Quackity and Sapnap and what the hell a confrontation between them about Dream could look like, and Sapnap being the holder of the Death Book and what he's prepared to lose if he uses it. So much good stuff and intriguing dynamics to explore!

24.What work would you like to talk more about?

Easily 'make a fist and not a plan' that fic is my BABY. I need to update it so badly but I wrote like 0 words over the holidays ladjsfhlaksjfh. It's hard to talk about because only the part 1 of 4 is finished, but there is A LOT that is in store. But if anyone here is interested and wants to give it a read I am very very happy to answer any questions about it. I'm even considering commissioning artwork for it.

Thank you so much for these!!

[threadsun]

this isn't a request, but i was wondering if you have any rules on what you *wond't* write? i know you do dark content, but what are your hard no's, essentialy?

Oooooh that's a very good question!

(Real quick disclaimer that I'm gonna be open about some triggers I have and experiences I've had. I'm going to do this because I'm at a point where I can keep myself safe from them, and seeing graphic asks/submissions about them and stuff won't trigger me because I have healthy and effective coping mechanisms that will allow me to delete them without dwelling on them. People who aren't at this point with their mental health shouldn't be publicly posting about their triggers because it can give malicious people an easy way to target you. Everything I'm open about on this blog, I'm open about because I'm personally capable of handling any possible backlash from it. Make sure you keep your own limits in mind when posting stuff, rather than copying other people who have different limits than you do)

So like mostly I enjoy experimenting and will try writing almost anything at least once, and I've got lots of experience with niche, "gross," and "weird" kinks. But in terms of limits? Uhhhh all my limits are like, with caveats I guess. There's nuances around what I will and won't write, but I'll try to break it down:

1. I don't write underage/paedophilia/whatever you wanna call it

This has caveats. I'll write about someone who was a csa victim, for example. I won't shy away from the fact that it's something that happens to people, and I have OCs with that as part of their backstories (and often I'll write about it to cope with my own experiences). But I'll never write it as smut. I'll also occasionally write about 16-18 year olds with 18-20 year olds just cause that's a thing that happens sometimes. Once again, I won't write it as smut or anything, just acknowledge that those relationships sometimes happen. I've got at least one pair of OCs where that happened and the moral ambiguity of it all is part of an interesting conflict between characters. The same thing goes for acknowledging in passing that people under 18 will sometimes have sex/experience sexual desires/masturbate/have sexual awakenings. It's a fact of life. I won't turn it into smut or anything overtly sexy, but I'll acknowledge that it's a normal part of growing up and experiencing puberty and stuff. I've also got OCs who aren't human, and then ages get a lil fucky and stuff, so they may not have been technically alive for more than 18 years, but because they're like... a robot or a magical creature or whatever they're physically, mentally, and emotionally an adult. Though, once again, so far I've only used it to explore interesting conflicts and morality issues, not for smut.

2. I'm picky about vore, scat, and emetophilia specifically

I'll write them if someone gives me a very interesting prompt that catches my fancy, but I struggle to write them without being told where people want to see me go with it because there's so many aspects to them that different people like to see. Those three kinks are basically the only ones that I'm neutral-to-bored by, so it's gotta be really interesting for me to wanna write it. If there's no/few details or it doesn't catch my interest, I won't write them. They're almost entirely reserved for people willing to pay <3 In general, the more detailed someone is about the aspects of a kink they wanna see me write, the more likely I am to write it just cause I like clear and detailed directions/instructions! But I've been able to get at least a little interested in every kink I've encountered except those three, which is why I'm so picky about them.

3. I'm picky about cheating, substance use/abuse, and suicide.

These are things that I take very seriously and have had some really awful experiences with, and I often don't trust other people to handle them well. It's why I ignore basically anyone who talks about Ian's cheating, cause it's like glaringly obvious when most people talk about it that they either ignored everything about what we've seen of his character or they have never been cheated on, and both of those rub me the wrong way. I'll write about cheating sometimes, especially with Ian, but mostly I just don't wanna hear other people's thoughts about it cause 95% of the time they suck. Substance use/abuse and addiction are ones that I'll dabble in when I'm feeling well sometimes (especially drugging for noncon/yandere stuff or consensual intoxication play 👀) but if I'm struggling with my own recovery, I'll stay well away from them. I'm much more likely to write them in a serious context being used as an unhealthy coping mechanism than writing someone like... snorting coke at a party for fun or whatever. If you want to snort coke at a party for fun, though, I'll absolutely support you! Recreational drugs that aren't being abused can be fun, I just probably won't write about it. Suicide is something I'm really picky about writing. I'll write about it in certain contexts and with certain characters, but I don't feel comfortable writing about a suicidal reader/a reader dealing with someone's suicide/etc. I'll write about suicidal characters or characters killing themselves or characters dealing with the suicide of someone they care about if I think it's an interesting exploration of their psyche, but definitely not if it's from the reader's pov.

4. I won't do any requests that are just a full outline of a story

Like if I look at it and think "damn this person has a very specific story in mind, and knows exactly how they want everything to go" I won't write it. If you want a hyper specific story, then you can commission me, but don't send me your ten paragraph outline with detailed world-building and expect me to write it. It won't turn out how you want it, and I don't even want to try doing that. I love detailed directions for what you want me to focus on in a smut piece, or for a scenario you want to see characters react to (without you already planning how you want me to make them react), but as soon as it gets to the point where you've written half of the story already and have a clear idea of what you want the characters to be doing/feeling/saying then it's too much for me. If I don't feel like I can write the characters in a way that's authentic to my understanding of them without upsetting the requester, then I won't write the request.

I'm sure I'll encounter more things that I'm not willing to write, but these are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. Generally, if I don't like an ask/request I'll just delete it, and I'll never be upset about people for asking.

#sunshine #asks

[ruiination]

RULES

topaz. he/they. 25+ blogs: warrior of light. / personal / makoto yuki

Meta Rules:

I am a person and am bipolar. I have episodes of intense depression and also moments of extreme anxiety/paranoia. During these extremes, I will shut myself out from others. This is because I know I can be harmful when it comes to my thinking. I can be incredibly negative and accidentally vent or overshare. I can become irrationally fearful or obnoxious. I am in treatment for these things, and the biggest thing I know is that I can be harmful and be easily harmed. I have had a variety of experiences where I have accidentally crossed lines or slipped into toxic bullshit. I have been manipulated and hurt during these episodes. The best thing for me in these situations is to give me space. I need to protect myself during these times. I need to be alone. I am reluctant to be open because of past experiences. I know I cannot act rationally and can make stupid choices. I can become snippy or traumadump. I can allow people to walk on my boundaries during these periods. I have been manipulated multiple times to do and share things I am not comfortable with. On that subject, I am always open to talking or hearing people out. But if I am having an episode of depression, I will not be capable of listening to people vent. When I am manic, I get incredibly anxious or hyper. The anxiety can turn into downright paranoia which is why I cannot handle vagueblogging and stuff during those times. I am not making excuses. I am just letting everyone know that I sometimes need space. I need patience. I may still write. But I will not be able to speak much ooc. It is not personal. But sometimes I just struggle. It is a struggle a lot of the time. I wanted to add this into my rules even if it makes me so nervous to do it.

I try my best to tag triggers, so if you need something tagged let me know.

Sexism and racism will not be tolerated, you will be blocked. If you post anything transphobic, homophobic, or biphobic, I will block YOU

If you ship adult/minor ships or condone that stuff, do not interact.

I can and will block if people make me uncomfortable.

I will never write incest.

If you are here because of Jay or whatever, here is my post about his little stunt and the photo of my original DNI (which i posted as a screenshot from my Clive blog so it wouldn't so up on searches) is on the bottom of the page. ♥ I am thankful for all of the support, but I do not want to talk about him. If you have found one of his blogs, you can feel free to let me know.

In terms of triggers, I try my best to keep up. But it's not easy for me to tag not standard ones. If you are triggered by dogs, violence, mental illness, and childhood trauma this may not be the blog for you.

If you constantly delete/move your blogs, I might be hesitant to interact with you.

I am white irl and I do write a few poc. If you see me so anything wrong and you are a poc, feel free to educate me. I'm always trying to learn and be better. I have a zero tolerance policy about racism. I will not speak over poc. If they tell me something is a microagression or downright racist, I'm only going to listen. I can't possibly know their lived experience and trust their perspective. Please reach out if you see anything from me I need to correct!

I'm queer. I am genderfluid with a masc lean. Assigned female at birth. I have a zero tolerance policy about about hate toward lgbt+ people and misogyny. I will say something to you if it seems unintentionally done. But yeah.

I am incredibly uncomfortable around much of the following fandoms: final fantasy xvi , danganronpa, and baldur's gate 3. Still willing to follow or interact but I may be hesitant.

Interaction Rules:

Asks can ALWAYS be replied to.

All muses are crossover friendly and OC friendly.

Do not force me to ship or smut.

I'm mutuals only.

If you are a multi muse and send an ask or like a starter call without specifying what muse you are sending from, I won't answer. If you don't specify a muse you want from me when you send asks, I won't answer.

I don't use icons for certain muses. I do not have time to make icons for 60+ muses.

I have 4 different muse sections which are to indicate activity. Primary muses are the most active and accepting. where each section below it becomes less active or accepting. I also added a feature muse to indicate the character I have the most muse for right now which will be the MOST active.

I will no longer be writing smut rps. It doesn't make me comfortable for a variety of reasons. I may do some on discord and I am happy to talk about those sorts of headcanons, but I have discovered that I have hang-ups with writing things like that that I have not been able to push past. I will enact a fade to black policy for now. I am truly sorry. I have only had a handful of partners I have written this type of content with and all but one have resulted in the same outcome that is just a personal failing of mine. I will continue to try to work through this. But for now, please try to be understanding. If you want more of an explanation, feel free to ask in dms/ims.

Shipping/Mains Rules

If you are a main or ship partner, I need to be able to kinda talk to you ooc. I only will be mains with someone that speaks with me ooc.

If you MAINLY want to smut/ship and that's the only reason you are here, this blog isn't for you.

Mains get priority.

If you become mains or start shipping with be and then never reply or talk to me, I'll remove you from my list. Shipping or being mains should be the start and not the end. That status is not a trophy to be put on your shelf. Exceptions can obviously be made and I'm always okay with low activity or extended breaks. I just ask for communication when possible.

I will typically not be exclusive.

Credits

Icon Templates: cassiaslair, somresources, calisources, paletterph, thunderousmemes, stephysource, biscuit, supersources

Coloring psds: abstraect, somresources, tattooedtaemin, calisources, freerps, biscuit.

Caps: capsource

dividers: here, and paletterph

Mains

@nivaera.

@cagedfirebird

@unrealization

#( meta ↷ rules. )

[prpfs]

She/her, 21+. Only looking for other 21+ roleplayers who aren’t creepy and won’t probe into my personal life! 🌟🌟Also, apologies in advance for the wall of text.

Looking for a The Boys roleplay. You play Soldier Boy/Benjamin to my female OC. Superficially, my OC is soft, sweet, and naive, but secretly she’s cunning and manipulative to get what she wants, how she wants it (due partially to her ability of mental manipulation, not unlike Mindstorm). She grew up fascinated with Soldier Boy, watching shows and propaganda that idolized him. It was the only thing to keep her from lashing out with her powers. As a result, she ended up morphing into a woman that she thought would be his ideal woman. Soft, feminine, the perfect stay at home wife who’d dote on her husband after a long day at work. She’s living a life of mediocrity, trying to find the perfect husband to satisfy her, but she’s failing…until Grace Mallory reaches out her with a new assignment - manipulate and control Ben by putting him in dreams, until the supe can control him with her feminine wiles enough to destroy Homelander.

So, triggers. There’s the usual themes that come up in The Boys, such as blood, gore, smut, extreme misogyny, extreme power dynamics (from real, such as my OC using her powers, to “induced”, such as what Ben perceives), and dubcon/noncon if you involve my OCs powers on Ben. Now, despite all this, I am looking for something that includes both light and dark themes. Light being the dreams they live out as a happily married couple. Dark being…well, the rest of the shit that comes up in the show. 

I do have some smut limits, but I’ll share those if you like this. 

As for the boring details, I’m only looking to roleplay on Discord. I’d like someone capable of writing 300+ words, but maybe less if we can manage fast paced replies. Be respectful of the boundaries I set between my real life and my roleplay life and don’t refer to me as my character. I’m not looking to double right now, especially since a lot of the roleplay will take place in dreams, until we get to the point where Ben can be brought back to the real world. 

If you’re interested, please like this and I’ll reach out! And thanks to the admins for hosting this blog <3

like if you're interested and anon will get back to you

#the boys rp #the boys roleplay #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #dead dove #21+ rp #ccxoc rp

[seriphimlm]

Binary Stars

Summary: Castiel possesses Dean. 

(Yeah, I’m writing SPN fan fiction now. Mind ya business.)

Binary star system: Noun. Astronomy. A system of two stars in which one star revolves around the other or both revolve round a common center. Locked in the constant chase of hunter and hunted, the two stars spend their lifespans circling around the other’s orbit, never able to touch, always just out of reach. 

---

It started, much like everything else complicated in the lives of Dean and Castiel, with a hunt gone wrong. 

Read on AO3

The sunlight was filtering through the dingy hotel room’s curtains as Rowena examined Castiel with a series of powders, juices, and soft-spoken Latin chants. Dean watched as he leaned against the wall, subtly texting Sam an update on their hunt. Dean and Castiel had been trying to take out a witch just west of Lincoln when she blew a shimmering powder into Castiel’s face. He had spent the following few minutes coughing up a lung while Dean shot the witch between the eyebrows. Unsure what to do, they called Rowena when they returned to the hotel room. She was leaning over Castiel as he sat on the side of one of the beds. 

“It’s bad.” Rowena finally said, her eyes flicking between Dean and Castiel. “You boys tussled with the wrong witch.”

Dean sighed and kicked off the wall he was leaning on. “Awesome.”

“What did she do to me?” Castiel’s eyes calmly tracked Dean for a moment before they flicked to meet Rowena’s gaze. 

“You mean you can’t tell?” Rowena raised her eyebrows and looked away. “That’s not a good sign.”

“Cut the crap, Rowena,” Dean growled. “Can you fix it?”

Rowena sighed. “Aye, the spell’s not built for fixing.”

“Remind me why you’re here, then?” Dean took a half-step towards Rowena. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, stopping him in his tracks with just a word. He turned back to Rowena. “Explain. Please.”

“Well,” Rowena paused as she thought. She pursed her lips, choosing her words carefully. “It was a homemade spell designed to erase an angel’s grace. It starts slow, which must be why you can’t feel it yet. It will continue to get faster and faster as time goes on.”

Dean threw his hands up. “Awesome.”

“You said that already,” Castiel grumbled. 

The two men shared tense eye contact for a few charged moments. 

“You haven’t seen any hex bags today, correct?” Rowena asked, causing them both to look back at her. 

Castiel stood up and moved his eyes around the room before ending on Rowena. “I would be able to sense if there were any present.”

Rowena nodded and hummed her approval. “And the witch who cast the spell is now dead?”

“Yes,” Dean said, stepping forward. “I made sure of that.”

“Lovely,” she said, making it clear that she thought that it was anything but. “She must have been a powerful one then, if the spell is surviving past her.”

Castiel grimaced. “What can we do?”

“Do?” Rowena began to gather her supplies back into her large purse. “There isn’t much that can be done, I’m afraid.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel beat him to the punch. “But there is something.”

Rowena sighed. “You’re not going to like it.”

Dean and Castiel both leveled Rowena with steady stares. She closed her eyes to center herself before speaking again, opening them to look at Castiel. 

“You’re going to need to leave your vessel,” she finally said.

Her statement hung in the air for a few moments before anyone else spoke, heavy in the crisp air-conditioned room. Castiel hardly reacted except to blink, but Dean was visibly agitated. 

“No way.” Dean shook his head. 

Rowena laughed drily. “Have you got a better idea, then?”

“Dean,” Castiel cut in, nipping their cat fight in the bud. “I’ve been without a vessel before.”

“So, what?” Dean turned his attention to Castiel. “You’re just gonna find some other holy trench coat to possess?”

Castiel turned his head slightly to look at Dean directly.

“Not necessarily,” Rowena interrupted. “The spell is only affecting Castiel’s physical form. If he were to” —she struggled to find the word for a moment— “exit, the spell would run its course and eventually fizzle out. I don’t see why he couldn’t return after that.”

“And how long’s that gonna take?” Dean asked. 

Rowena made a noncommittal sound as she examined Castiel lightly with her eyes. “Oh, a few days to be safe. These things move faster when the mind isn’t present.”

“So what, right before he starts to rot away?” 

Castiel lowered his chin slightly and looked at Dean. “My vessel, Dean. It’s not me.”

Rowena held up a finger and rooted through her purse as the men had an impromptu staring contest. After a moment, she pulled out a small hex bag. It fit snugly in the palm of her hand. She loosened the string tying it together slightly to create an opening. 

“This will help keep your vessel in working shape while you’re away,” she said, presenting the hex bag to Castiel. “I just need a drop of dear Mr. Novak’s blood.”

As Dean was rustling through his pockets to pass Castiel his knife, Castiel just bit the tip of his index finger with his front teeth. He held the finger over the bag as the blood welled up and finally dripped down. When the droplet of blood hit the bag, a barely-visible puff of blue smoke was created. Castiel ran his thumb over his index finger, healing the small nip. 

“Perfect,” Rowena said as she retied the string, nonplussed by Castiel’s behavior. She passed the completed hex bag to Castiel. “This will keep the lights on while you’re not home. Keep it in one of your pockets until you return.”

Castiel nodded and put the hex bag in the inside pocket of his trench coat. 

Rowena continued, “I suggest that you leave your vessel before you go to bed. There hasn’t been any damage done that you won’t recover from, but that won’t be the case when you wake up tomorrow.”

“I don’t sleep.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Sometime before whatever it is you do at night, then.”

The group eventually made their way through saying farewells and Rowena left, leaving Dean and Castiel alone. Dean was tense. It was hard for him to think of Castiel’s body as just an empty husk to be filled. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, breaking the silence that fell when Rowena left. “This is a manageable problem. There is no need to worry.”

Dean scoffed. “What, me worry?” He sighed and grabbed his keys from where they were sitting on the nightstand. “Let’s get back to the bunker before you do anything crazy.”

Castiel nodded and followed Dean outside of the hotel room. 

The two men continued in silence as they pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Castiel had come to appreciate silence in his time on Earth, but this particular moment rang with unsaid words. He knew that Dean would voice what he needed to say before too long. This time, he only had to wait for three-and-a-half Metallica songs. 

“So.” Dean said, finally breaking the silence. “You’re leaving your vessel.”

“Yes.” Castiel straightened his back and watched the dotted yellow lines disappear beneath them. 

Dean snuck a peek at Castiel. He nervously bit the inside of his cheek. No one spoke for another few moments. 

“Well, are you gonna ask me or not?”

Castiel replied casually, “Ask you what?”

“To be your new vessel.” Dean snuck another peek in Castiel’s direction, taking time to rake his eyes across his face. “If I can handle Michael, then I can handle you. Right?”

“Dean. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

Dean reached over to turn the music down. “Humor me.”

Castiel gave an angel’s impression of an eye roll. “Dean Winchester, are you willing to give your body and mind over to my cause?”

“Yes,” Dean said. His response was immediate. He looked over at Castiel, lips not fully closed. 

“You can’t mean that.” Castiel didn’t seem to be impressed. 

“It’s better than spending a week as a holy cloud of gas and you know it.”

Castiel moved his gaze in Dean’s direction, not quite looking directly at him yet. He couldn’t disagree. “Your history with Michael—” 

“You’re not Michael.” Dean shook his head lightly, turning back to the road. “Come on, Cas. If everyone was the same as their older brothers, Sam would be blacklisted from about twenty more bars than he already is.”

Castiel didn’t seem to be persuaded. He looked anywhere except Dean’s face. 

“Dean. I do not wish to cross any boundaries here.” He finally raised his gaze to meet Dean’s. “You understand that saying yes will give me unfettered access to your body and soul.”

“Look at me. I get it.” Dean quirked his lips humorlessly into a smirk. “I’ve been a hunter my whole life, I know what possession is.” He paused and sighed, tearing his eyes from the road to look at Castiel, speaking clearly. “I trust you. I’m saying yes.”

Castiel still didn’t look convinced. Dean sighed. 

Dean let out a humorless laugh as he rubbed his thumb on the steering wheel nervously. “Listen, man,” he said, his voice an olive branch. “I could learn how to say it in Enochian if English ain’t enough.”

Castiel finally met his gaze again. “I can remain unobstructive while we share a vessel.”

“I’ve already said yes, no need to keep selling,” Dean said, then hesitated. “So long as I get to stay behind the wheel.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel leaned imperceptibly closer to him. “I would never strip you of your autonomy.”

Dean nodded. “Good.” He paused, then echoed, “Good.” He looked back to the road. 

---

The bunker door slammed loud enough to ring through the halls. Dean gave a holler to Sam anyway, in case he didn’t hear him and Castiel come in. 

Sam walked into the room from the direction of his bedroom. “What the hell, Dean?” he said. “You can’t just text me, ‘Cas got witched. Be back before midnight.’ and then not respond.”

“Aren’t you the one who gets on me about texting and driving?” Dean smirked at Sam. “Just being a safe driver. ‘Sides, you could have used Cas’ phone. We got him one for a reason.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shifted his focus to Castiel. “I tried calling Cas, but it went straight to voicemail.”

“My phone stopped working a while ago.” Castiel pulled it out of his pocket. “It no longer turns on.”

Dean grabbed the phone from Castiel and examined it, testing the power button a few times. “When’s the last time you plugged it in?”

“Plugged it into what?”

Dean dropped his hands and looked at Castiel. “The wall, Cas.” He looked over at Sam pleadingly. Sam chuckled. 

“You have to charge it for a few hours every day or two,” Sam said. “I’ll put a charger in your room later.”

Castiel took his phone back from Dean. “I see. I will be more mindful of that in the future.”

Dean walked down the stairs into the main room area, Castiel following closely behind. 

“I’m going to grab a beer, want one?” Dean called over his shoulder as he headed towards the kitchen. 

Sam sat at the table. “Sure.”

“You’re getting one too, Cas,” Dean said, not waiting for a response from him. 

Castiel nodded and sat across from Sam as Dean left the room. 

“I’m beginning to appreciate the taste of beer,” he said to Sam. “The creation process behind it is very compelling.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Sam chuckled airly. “So, what happened with the witch? You look totally normal to me.”

“I’m glad I look normal.” Castiel sighed. “The spell is one that targets my grace, so humans are unable to see what the witch has done.”

Sam frowned. “Are you okay?”

“The damage so far is minimal.” Castiel shrugged. “I hardly noticed until Rowena brought it up. She said that the rate at which the spell devours my grace would increase unless I left my vessel.” 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’re gonna do that? Leave your vessel, I mean.”

“I have no other choice,” Castiel said. “But my vessel will survive without me until the spell runs its course.” Anticipating Sam’s question, he added, “I’ll be able to return to this vessel in a few day’s time.”

“Huh.” Sam leaned back in his chair for a moment. “So will you just” —he waved his hand through the air nervously— “float around all day?”

“No, I—”

Castiel was cut off by Dean re-entering the room, holding three beers. “Brewski time!” he called, waggling the beers with one hand. He put a beer in front of Sam and Castiel, then took one of the open seats at the table and took a swig from his own bottle. 

“Dean, Cas was just telling me about what happened,” Sam said. He looked back over to Castiel. “Sorry, I’d offer to help, but I have a… history with angels using me as a vessel.” He gave an awkward half-smile. 

“I understand,” Castiel said, returning a small smile in Sam’s direction. 

“You don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing, Sammy.” Dean took another sip of his beer. For some reason, he felt nervous to tell Sam. He pushed it down. “Cas is gonna stay with me.”

Sam smirked and looked down at his beer bottle. “And you’re cool with that?”

“What? Lucifer didn’t wear me to the prom.”

“Dude.” Sam looked up to lazily glare at Dean. 

Dean was sufficiently cowed. “What, too soon?”

“Yeah, too soon.” Sam rolled his eyes and laughed under his breath. “Forever would be too soon.”

“I’m going to leave my vessel before morning,” Castiel noted, gracefully changing the subject. “Would you like to be in the room while it happens?”

Dean stiffened imperceptibly. 

“I’m sure you two can handle it,” Sam said, taking a sip from his beer. “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”

“Well,” Dean said, setting his beer on the table and moving to get out of his chair. “What do you say, Cas? No time like the present?”

Castiel’s eyebrows drew together. He looked up at Dean and then back down at his beer. “I’d like to finish this first. It’s pleasant to drink with you two.”

“Come on, Dean.” Sam laughed and lifted his beer in Dean’s direction. “Waste not, want not.”

Dean chuckled to cover his blooming blush. He relaxed back into his chair. “I’m just glad we corrupted an angel.”

---

Dean and Castiel ended up in one of the extra bedrooms, one which Dean liked to call Castiel’s room. Castiel hardly used it. He was sitting on top of the unwrinkled bed covers while Dean was pacing, trying to tamper his anxiety. 

“So, this possession thing.” Dean looked over carefully to Castiel. “Does it hurt?”

Castiel’s eyes tracked Dean’s movements. “What do you mean?”

“The whole...” Dean waved a hand around as he thought of how to word it. “Smoke-in-the-mouth thing. I mean, I smoked my fair share as a teen, but I’m no iron lung.”

The drug reference gave Castiel pause. “The process shouldn’t be painful. It may feel uncomfortable at times as your body attunes to housing a celestial being. You may experience sensations that the human body is not equipped to feel.”

“Lucky me,” Dean said breathlessly.

Castiel nodded. “Lucky you.”

Castiel swung his legs on top of his bed, shoes and all. He leaned against the headboard in a sitting position. Dean bit his tongue when he worried about the dirt tracking onto the sheets. 

“How would you like me?” Castiel asked once he settled. 

Dean tripped on his tongue for a moment. “Like you?”

“My vessel,” Castiel clarified. “How would you like it to be positioned while I’m away?”

A breath escaped Dean’s lungs. Castiel had to know what he was doing when he said things like that. 

“However you want, bud.” Dean flexed his jaw and swallowed. “It’s up to you, I won’t be coming in here until the spell times out.”

Castiel hummed and scooted forward so that he had the space to lie down completely, but he propped himself up on his elbows to keep Dean in his eyesight. He was lying on his back with his trenchcoat puddled around him like an aura. 

“Are you sure you’re willing to do this, Dean?”

Dean walked over to the side of Castiel’s bed. “My answer hasn’t changed since the last time you asked.”

“I’m serious.” Castiel’s voice compelled Dean to look him in the eyes. “I would not think any less of you for changing your mind in the eleventh hour.”

“You’re my friend, Cas.” Dean’s hand reached out to pat him on the shoulder before he realized that it was too far away to reach. For lack of a better location, he patted Castiel’s thigh where it was resting on the bed. “Friends help each other out.”

Castiel furrowed his brows as he watched Dean’s hand touch his thigh. Dean moved his hand back to its neutral position once he noticed Castiel looking. He felt a blush begin to heat his face without understanding why. 

“Besides,” Dean started, trying to distract from the building burning in his cheeks. “It’s a win-win. You get a vacation in Casa Winchester and I get to go a few days without seeing your ugly mug.”

Castiel’s eyebrows drew together even more. “You think I’m ugly?”

“Of course not,” Dean backtracked immediately. “I’m sure you’re, y’know, good looking. For a guy.” Dean would have to change the subject if he didn’t want Castiel to notice his blushing cheeks. “It’s just something people say.”

Dean wouldn’t know where to put Castiel on the traditional 1-10 scale of hotness. He lived on a different scale entirely. 

“I see.” Castiel relaxed his arms and allowed his gaze to trail up to the ceiling. “I never understood human beauty standards. I have a hard time evaluating my vessel.”

Great, Dean thought as he put a few feet of distance between him and the bed. I gave the angel a complex. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, man.” Dean tried to backtrack. “Chicks dig the whole dorky, just rolled out of bed look.”

Castiel hummed idly and then lifted himself to look Dean in the eye again. “Are you ready to be possessed?”

Dean had long since gotten used to Castiel’s abrupt non sequiturs. 

“Should I sit down?” Dean moved towards an empty chair a few feet away from the bed. 

“That would be smart.”

Dean carried the chair to the side of the bed and sat in it. It was strange to see Castiel laying down. The only other times that Dean had seen him in this position, he was bloodied from a fight. Castiel moved his arms to lie down completely, turning his head on the pillow to look at Dean. 

“Dean Winchester, will you let me in?”

“Castiel,” Dean breathed. He shivered in anticipation. “Yes.”

It wasn’t like the demon possessions he had seen, where the victim screamed as the demon’s black cloud rushed into their mouth. Castiel closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. A small, wavering tendril of bright smoke seeped out of his mouth. This was Castiel, more so than anything related to Jimmy Novak’s body. Dean’s adrenaline spiked as the tendril began to close the distance between them. It meandered through the air of Castiel’s bedroom like lazy cascading waves on a shoreline. Dean’s mouth opened and he tilted his chin towards the smoke without being aware he was doing so. 

The tendril of Castiel finally reached Dean’s lips. For a moment, it felt like he had used TV static as chapstick. The static feeling filled Dean’s throat. It spread over his head and spilled down his chest as more of Castiel flowed through him. It felt like the borders of his body were being erased, like he was expanding to fill the bedroom. His head was floaty and blurry, as if he was back to being seventeen and smoking Js with other nomads outside of run-down hotels. 

It was as if he had a whole new sense awakened in him. How could you explain sight to someone who was born blind? He felt his thoughts being pushed to the side to make space in his head for another entity. His body went blank for a moment before he scrambled to gain control. The feeling, which had to be Castiel, let him gather it up from the corners of his awareness. His limbs were left feeling like they fell asleep. He compressed Castiel to right at the base of his neck, behind his collarbones. He felt raw energy thrumming in the back of his mind. 

Dean opened his eyes. He hadn’t been aware that he closed them. Sam was banging on the other side of the door. They must have been making noise, even if he didn’t realize it. He stumbled up from his chair and almost instantly banged his shin against the bed frame. 

“Shit!” Dean yelped. The lightbulbs in the room popped in a sharp shatter of glass. He flinched at the noise. 

Sam yelled from behind the door, “Dean?”

“Yeah, give me a second!” Dean responded, traversing through the bedroom in the relative darkness. His adrenaline was still pumping, leaving him feeling tight and thready. He finally made it to the door and opened it for Sam. 

Sam looked different. It looked like someone had taken a long exposure photograph of him while he was moving. There was a glow to his body that made it look like he was radioactive. It made Dean feel like he was burning. He screwed his eyes shut. 

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Cas.” A growl came out of Dean’s throat and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Whatever it is you’re doing, man, you need to pull up. This is too much.”

“Dean?”

Dean felt the fizzy numbness of his body recede even further. His body felt almost normal. His eyes opened hesitantly. 

“...Cas?” Sam asked, going out on a limb.

“Still me,” Dean said, shaking his head. He could finally look at Sam directly without feeling like his face was melting. He sighed. 

“Are you okay? Your eyes were...” Sam peeked around Dean to see Castiel’s empty vessel laying on the bed. “Is he…?”

Dean tapped the side of his head. “All up here. We’re good.”

Dean stepped aside so that Sam could enter the room. Sam flicked the lightswitch a few times but the room stayed dark. He looked at Dean accusingly. 

“What can I say? I got my go-go juice.”

Sam rolled his eyes and used his phone flashlight to examine the body of Jimmy Novak. Dean followed him and lingered by the bed. 

“He’s still breathing,” Sam said. He hesitated before adding, “Do you think he needs…”

Dean curled his upper lip. “Depends?”

Sam and Dean both stared blankly at Jimmy’s empty body. 

“I’m not opening that can of worms,” Dean finally said. He patted Sam’s shoulder as he moved past him to leave the room. “I’m starving.”

Dean stumbled as he walked down the hallway. He was in the kitchen for just long enough to grab bread, peanut butter, and jelly by the time Sam entered the room. 

“Do you feel any different?” Sam asked hesitantly, lingering by the doorway. 

Dean nodded while spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread. “I feel like I ran a freakin’ marathon.” He ran his thumb on the side of the knife to gather the remaining peanut butter and stuck it in his mouth. “I’m gonna eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, eat another, down a beer, and then crash for the night.”

Sam smiled and huffed air out his nose. That was the Dean he knew. “Is Cas talking to you?”

Dean looked up to tell Sam no, but jolted when he wasn’t standing by the doorway anymore. He looked around the room and flinched again when he realized Sam was a few feet to his side. 

“Son of a bitch, when did Cas teach you to teleport?”

Sam looked confused for a second before realization dawned on him. “Cas took over for a few minutes. He told me that everything is going according to plan. It will take a few hours for you to get ‘attuned’ enough to communicate. Whatever that means.”

“Damnit Cas, I told you to let me stay behind the wheel.” Dean said with very little heat behind his words. 

“He said that would be the only time.” Sam motioned to the counter where Dean was making his sandwich earlier. “He apologized.”

Instead of the half-made peanut butter and jelly sandwich that Dean was making, there was now a plate of two completed sandwiches (cut into triangles) and an opened bottle of one of Dean’s favorite beers, fresh from the fridge. Dean’s stomach growled.

Dean picked up the plate of food and the beer. “He’s forgiven. This time.”

---

Dean woke up and headed to the bathroom on autopilot, his bladder sending alarm bells to his brain. He went through the motions as usual, yawning and scratching his tummy as he relieved himself. When he looked down to make sure that the tank was empty, he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. His eyebrows pulled together and he touched his cheeks with a free hand. There was no reason why he should be blushing as he takes a whizz. He would have to do some googling later. He filed the feeling away in his mind, and the embarrassment passed as he put himself away and moved to the sink to wash his hands. 

Dean jolted when he saw his reflection move without him in the mirror. He furrowed his brows and looked pointedly down at the faucet. 

“Am I hallucinating?” he asked the empty bathroom. 

His own voice answered him. “If Sam were to walk in right now, he would see you talking to yourself.” Dean’s eyes flicked back up to the mirror. His reflection’s voice was grittier than normal, as if he ate a bowl of gravel for breakfast. “But you are not hallucinating. This is one way I can communicate with you.”

Dean laughed dryly and shook his head, looking away again. “This is weird, man. I feel like Jamie Lee Curtis.”

He had almost forgotten what had happened the night before in his post-hunt adrenaline crash. The reflection, which must be Castiel, had better posture than he’d ever had in his life. It looked like he’d gained an inch in height. 

“I can remain completely dormant if you’d prefer.” Castiel kept Dean’s body still as he spoke, save for the slight tilt of his head. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

Seeing someone using his meatsuit would normally make his hand itch for a silver blade, but something about this felt different. 

Dean shook his head slightly. “No big deal. Anything else I should know about beside this whole” —he waved his hand half-heartedly at the mirror— “Mulan thing?”

“I am passively aware of the sensory input you receive,” Castiel said, lowering his eyes. “But I am able to focus my attention elsewhere when you require privacy.”

Dean felt the tips of his ears begin to burn as he remembered what he had just been doing. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So what, you’ve been busy reading my thoughts?”

Dean’s reflection tilted his head and lowered his eyebrows slightly. Seeing Castiel’s mannerisms on his body made his hands twitch. He had to stop himself from touching the mirror. To shatter it or caress it, he didn’t know. 

“The mind of a shared vessel is difficult to describe in terms you can understand,” Cas shared after a pregnant pause. “There is no branch of human studies that can be used as an accurate reference.”

“You’re an angel,” Dean said, flexing his fingers. “I’m sure you can dumb it down for me.”

Castiel took a moment before speaking, no doubt firing a trillion of his and Dean’s currently shared synapses. “We share subconscious minds in this state, but our conscious minds remain our own. Instincts and emotions are shared before coherent thought.”

Something clicked in Dean’s mind. “Wait, was that…” Dean bit his tongue. He hesitated before speaking again, pointedly not looking Castiel in the face. “Were you embarrassed earlier?”

Dean’s reflection avoided eye contact. “I understand that humans are very protective of their genitalia. I apologize. I did not intend to—”

Dean cut him off. “Okay, we’re not going to talk about genitalia. New rule.” Dean worked furiously to think of a way to change the subject. Finally, “Why don’t I feel any different?”

Castiel looked thankful for the prompt. “Human senses aren’t accustomed to celestial intent. You felt that when I first entered your body. It will slowly become more comprehensible as we continue sharing the same vessel.”

Dean barked out a short laugh to distract from thinking about it too much. “Thanks for the fine print. Anything I should be on the lookout for?”

“Nothing major.” Dean kept expecting to see Castiel’s blue eyes when their gazes linked. Something about making eye contact with himself felt weird. “You were created to house the most powerful archangel in heaven, so there’s no chance of unintentional damage to your body on my behalf.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, bud.” Dean raised his eyebrows at his reflection. “You can be scrappy.”

Seeing his reflection give a small, easy smile was something that Dean hadn’t seen in a while. 

After a small pause, Dean swallowed and cleared his throat, speaking carefully. “Listen, can you—”

As if reading his thoughts, Dean’s reflection changed to Jimmy Novak, trenchcoat and all. 

“Is this better?” Castiel asked, back to his normal appearance. 

Dean’s lips quirked up. It was nice to hear his voice again. “Yeah.” His mouth was a little dry. He tried again. “Yeah, Cas. That’s better.”

Castiel smiled at him before dissolving into Dean’s reflection. Dean lifted his hand and rubbed his face, watching his reflection follow his movements exactly. Everything was back to normal. He nodded at the empty mirror and turned on his heel to start his day. 

---

After a cup of coffee for breakfast, Dean started to become aware of how dirty he was. He never actually had the chance to take a shower after the fight with the witch. Thankfully, she was staying in a classy apartment rather than a cabin in the woods, but still. He probably smelled like an entire gym locker room. He put it off for as long as he could, not knowing how to bring it up to Castiel. He almost made it to noon by reading lore in a storage room before Sam leaned over him to see what the book said and scrunched his nose. 

“Dude, come on. You stink so bad,” Sam said. 

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up from where he was sitting. He gave Sam a shit-eating grin. “I smell like a bed of roses.”

“Sure, maybe one that a dog just peed in.” Sam chuckled under his breath. “Maybe you can ask Cas to zap you clean.”

“I’ll just do it the old-fashioned way.” Dean scooted around Sam and made his way to exit the room. “Kids these days, always looking for the easy way out.”

“Dude, I’m 32!” Sam yelled after him as he entered the hallway. 

Dean chuckled at his own humor as he walked to his bedroom to grab a fresh set of clothes. Once he realized that he needed a shower, everything felt uncomfortable. It would be nice to get under the bunker’s perfect water pressure again. 

He spent a longer time than normal picking out clothes, still putting off having to deal with Castiel possessing him while he showers. Finally, he entered the bathroom he claimed as his own. There was just enough space for the basics: toilet, shower, sink, counter, mirrored medicine cabinet. 

He stood in front of the mirror awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to broach the subject. 

“Cas?” He said to the empty room. 

The mirror didn’t change. Dean wondered if maybe he imagined the entire possession. He clicked his tongue and turned away from the mirror, but jolted when he saw Castiel standing next to him. 

“Holy shit!”

“No,” Castiel answered. He tilted his head at Dean. “It’s me.”

Dean shook his head in shock. “How are you here?”

“I’m not, physically speaking.” Castiel lifted his arms to show off his form. “I’m a visual representation constructed by your mind.” He looked down at himself. “I’m surprised. It normally takes months for seraphim to harmonize with their vessel’s brainwaves enough to present themselves without the aid of a reflection like this.”

“Look at you go.” Dean checked the mirror quickly. Castiel had no reflection. 

Castiel seemed to realize where he was for the first time. “Are you about to take a shower?”

Dean nodded.

“I assume you wish to have privacy,” Castiel said.

Dean felt his cheeks heat up. “Please.”

“I will put my attention elsewhere.”

“How?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “If you’re willing to try, you may be able to create an illusion of something for me to distract myself with.”

Dean hummed an affirmation. He tried to think of something that Castiel would like. He closed his eyes shut and imagined Castiel holding it. 

After a few moments, he heard Castiel say, “The Bible?”

Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel holding a copy of the Bible. It was small and leather bound, with the title embossed in gold. It looked like an exact copy of the one that his dad used to keep in the trunk of the Impala. 

“Yeah, the Bible. You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

Castiel flipped through the pages. He smiled. “Have you ever read the Bible, Dean?”

“Uh, no. I never got around to it, surprisingly.”

Castiel turned the book around so that Dean could see the pages. They were all blank. “Your brain didn’t know what words to add. Try something that you know.”

Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes, picturing what he wanted Castiel to have in his mind’s eye. 

He opened his eyes to see Castiel examining it in his hands. “What is this?”

“My old walkman,” Dean said. 

It was beat up, with countless chips in the plastic. The wire to the headphones had a kink or two in it, but Dean knew that it would still work. It was loaded with an AC/DC track that Dean stole from the Impala’s glove box when he was 17. 

“This is before I turned it into an EMF detector.” Dean wanted to reach for it, but hesitated. His hands would probably pass right through it. “It’s nice to see it again.”

Castiel looked at it fondly. “How do I use it?”

“Here, put these over your ears.” Dean grabbed the headphones on instinct. They felt solid in his hands. The feeling stopped him in his tracks. “I can touch this?”

“It’s all in your brain, Dean.” Castiel set the walkman body on the bathroom counter and took the headphones from Dean. Dean felt the soft brush of his fingers as he did. “The same brain that is letting you see and hear illusions can let you feel them too.”

Dean licked his lips. “Okay. Awesome. I can handle this.”

Despite feeling anxiety grow in his gut, Dean felt calmness attempting to wash over him. He looked at Castiel. 

“Pretend I’m here physically,” Castiel said, not mentioning the jedi mind tricks he was no-doubt pulling. “Show me how to use the walkman.”

What’s the big deal, Dean? Dean thought to himself. Never taught an illusion of an angel how to use a walkman in your bathroom before?

Dean forced himself to take a full breath. “Okay. Okay.” He shook his head slightly to shake off his anxiety. “Put the headphones on.”

Castiel did. He picked up the walkman from where he set it on the counter. “What button should I press?”

“It should be all rewinded and everything. Just press the play button.” After a moment, Dean added, “It’s the triangle.”

Castiel nodded and pressed it. He looked at Dean with a smile. “It’s working!” he said, a bit louder than normal. 

Dean gave him an awkward thumbs up. “Just close your eyes and listen for a few minutes.”

Castiel gave him a thumbs up back. “I’ll just… um…” He looked around for a place to be while Dean undressed. He pulled the headphones off for a second. “Where should I go?”

Dean suddenly realized that the bathroom didn’t have much room for privacy. He looked around for a moment before lowering the lid of the toilet. 

He pointed at the now-covered toilet. “Sit here. Turn the volume up.” “Okay.” Castiel sat. He put the headphones back on and fiddled with the buttons. He closed his eyes. “I’ll be here.”

Dean just looked at Castiel for a few seconds. This was so weird. He trusted that Castiel wouldn’t try to spy on him, but he was still sitting less than a foot away. He hesitantly took his shirt off. Castiel didn’t react. Socks were next. Pants followed soon after. 

He was standing in front of Castiel in his underwear. 

Right, he needed to turn the water on first. He had to awkwardly bend around Castiel’s knees to reach the faucet handle, but thankfully Castiel ignored the movement. He could almost feel the warmth of Castiel’s imaginary body heat on his torso. He adamantly ignored it, for Little Dean’s sake. 

The water was running. Moment of truth. Dean took a deep breath and pulled his briefs off. He didn’t dare to look at Castiel in this state. He had to bite back a hysterical laugh from the absurdity of it all. 

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it. The thought ran circles around his mind. He’s in your head, don’t think about it. He can feel what you feel, don’t think about it. 

Dean hopped in the shower. He gave a sigh of relief when he finally pulled the curtain back, blocking Castiel from his line of sight. He could pretend like it was any other day. The water hit him like rain. 

He sang Shoot to Thrill under his breath as he washed himself clean. 

---

Thank God that Dean’s tastebuds were still working. If he started tasting molecules instead of flavors, he would have to kick Castiel out. He piled his plate up high with the chicken alfredo that he spent the past few hours cooking. Sam had already served himself a plate of the pasta before Dean added the chicken and was sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on his laptop with one hand while he ate with the other. Dean grabbed some silverware and sat down across from him. 

Without thinking, Dean wove his fingers together on his lap and lowered his head. He sat in relative silence, mouthing something inaudible under his breath. 

“Dean, what are you doing?”

Suddenly, Dean snapped back into reality. He unclasped his hands and moved them from his lap to above the table. He quickly picked up his silverware and started to spike pasta with his fork. “I’m eating dinner, Sammy.”

“No.” Sam laughed. “No, before that. Were you… saying grace?”

Dean felt a blush begin to rise in his cheeks and pointedly ignored Sam’s gaze. “That must have been Cas.”

“Or Jimmy.”

“What?”

Sam slid his laptop to the side so that he could look at Dean directly. “I’ve been doing some reading about angel vessels. There isn’t much out there, but we know that angels leave behind a trace of grace in the vessels they occupy.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean said, having completely forgotten about that part. 

Sam took a bite of pasta and chewed quickly to continue speaking. “What if the opposite is also true? Cas has been inside Jimmy for years now. He could have picked up on some of his habits.”

“Dude,” Dean said. “Never say that again.”

Sam paused for a second, then rolled his eyes when he understood. “I’m just saying, Dean. This is uncharted territory. Who knows how angels and vessels affect each other? The Men of Letters’ research on them is all theoretical.”

“I’m not going to church anytime soon, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Dean paused. “Are you asking to research me?”

“No. Well, it would be helpful since you’re already here.” Sam looked up at Dean hopefully but shook his head when he saw the look on Dean’s face. “But no. Definitely not.”

Dean rolled his eyes. 

Sam changed the subject. “Good job on dinner, by the way. Thanks for making it.”

“Nesting has its perks.” Dean gave Sam a smile with cheeks filled with pasta. 

---

The nighttime was when it felt truly bizarre. Dean had to lay in bed and try to fall asleep, knowing that Castiel was just a sharp inhale away. He had been tossing and turning for almost an hour. Angels didn’t sleep, so Castiel must have been just watching this all happen. He couldn’t fall asleep if he thought about it. 

“Cas?” he finally voiced into the empty room.

Castiel appeared, sitting on the side of Dean’s bed. He turned his head to look down at him. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean sighed and relaxed into the pillow. “This is weird.”

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked. Dean barked out a laugh on instinct. 

“Me? Peachy.” Dean pushed himself up into a sitting position. “How’s Hotel Dean? Do I need to call housekeeping?”

Castiel looked out into the darkness, giving Dean a view of his side profile. “You’re the strongest vessel known to man. I am… exceedingly comfortable.”

“Good. That’s… good.” Dean felt embarrassment in his gut from the compliment, unsure if it was his own or Castiel’s. “You aren’t bored?”

Castiel returned his focus to Dean. “I do not find being this close to you boring.”

Dean forgot what he was going to say. His mouth was suddenly dry. He licked his lips and broke eye contact. He could still feel the weight of Castiel’s gaze. 

“Um, what’ll happen when I fall asleep?” Dean had to clear his throat to get his words out clearly. 

“Nothing unusual. I will remain dormant.”

“Would it wake me up if you took over?”

Castiel furrowed his brows. Finally, he answered, “No. It would be less invasive than sleepwalking.”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t take over while I’m getting my few hours,” Dean said carefully, looking back at Castiel. “If I can’t tell the difference.”

“Dean…” Dean could already tell from his tone that Castiel was going to decline the offer. 

He adjusted his position on the bed. “Come on, man. You’ve gotta take what I’m giving to you. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes for a few seconds before responding. “I understand.”

“Just don’t do anything weird.” Dean relaxed back into laying down on the bed. “Take care of my body.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel looked away before blinking out of existence. 

Dean didn’t have trouble falling asleep after that. 

---

Sam was walking to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning when he heard sound coming from Dean’s lounge (which Sam refused to call The Dean Cave, no matter how many times Dean threatened to cut his hair off). He changed course to investigate, his socked feet making soft pat-pats in the morning silence. The door was slightly ajar, so he pushed through to see the TV on and Dean sitting on the couch. Sam could have sworn that he recognized the show, from some article or meme that he saw online. Finally it clicked. 

“Is that… Riverdale?” Sam asked incredulously. 

Movement came from the couch. “Don’t be too loud, you’ll wake up Dean.”

Sam was caught off guard for a second before he put the pieces together in his mind. This would take some getting used to. 

“That’s creepy,” Sam said, pointing at Dean’s body. “So, I’m talking to Cas now?”

“Yes.” Castiel turned his attention back to the show. “Claire recommended this show to me. She said that I would find it funny. I’m not sure I understand the joke.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone does.” Sam chuckled breathlessly. “Does Dean know you’re making his eyes watch this?”

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, opening them to meet Sam’s gaze. “He is currently dreaming about being in a high school musical theatre program. I assume that on some level, he is processing the show alongside me.”

“Um…” Sam floundered for words for a moment, suddenly struck by the strangeness of the situation. “Do you want any coffee? I’m starting a pot.”

“I don’t.” Castiel paused. “But bring a cup anyways. Dean’s about to wake up.”

Sam walked back to the kitchen, muttering, “So creepy…” under his breath. 

---

Maybe Dean shouldn’t have been so adamant about taking a case while Castiel and him were shacking up. 

Side note, Dean thought as he struggled to breathe. Find out whether shacking up is only about having sex.

It was easy to feel regret now, as he was being held against the back of a gravestone psychically by his neck. But hey, pobody’s nerfect. Maybe it was Sam’s fault for agreeing to come with him. 

The case was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn for a ghost that had been spotted a few times in a Topeka graveyard. Just a quick day trip. Everything was going according to plan until… Well, Dean’s neck hurt. Thankfully, they had dug up the grave before the ghost showed up. Double thankfully, the ghost’s attention was entirely on Dean. 

He couldn’t help but smile a little as Sam dropped the lit pack of matches on the ghost’s salty and gasoline-drenched bones. Said smile turned into frightened eye contact with Sam when the ghost didn’t disappear. 

“Dean, something else’s keeping it here!”

“Y’think?” Dean gritted out his words through clenched teeth. He made a snap decision. “Cas, take the wheel!”

What Sam saw was Dean breaking out of the ghost’s psychic hold, thrusting his hand through its chest, and the ghost burning away from the inside out. 

What Dean saw was different. 

He felt brisk air as it hit his exposed forearms, cooler than the warm summer night he had just been in. He opened his eyes to see himself standing in the middle of the countryside in front of a barn. A familiar barn. 

The wind picked up as Dean walked closer to the barn’s doors. The roof started to stutter and creak. The doors began to shake. 

He knew this barn. 

He reached his hand out for the door handle, but the doors opened in a burst of sparks and splintering wood before he could even touch it. The inside of the barn was revealed. 

There were sigils and graffiti painted all over the walls. He knew those sigils. He painted them with Bobby. 

He could make out someone walking over to him from the shadows. 

“Are you gonna stab me with a knife?” Dean asked, holding his arms out. 

Castiel continued to walk closer to Dean. “I apologize for the abrupt change in scenery. This is the first location I could think of to take you.”

“This is fine, Cas.” Dean huffed out a laugh, still coming down from an adrenaline high from the hunt. “This is just fine.”

Castiel smiled contentedly. 

Dean suddenly remembered what situation he had just escaped from. “Wait a minute, if you’re here, who’s handling my body?”

“Still me,” Castiel said, somewhat smugly. “I’m able to multitask.”

“So what’re we doing right now?” Dean couldn’t help but circle around Castiel slightly, echoing his footsteps from years ago. 

Castiel noticed his repetition and watched him idly. “Sam and I are refilling the grave. Would you like to take back over?”

“Nah, I’ll let you handle the heavy lifting.” Dean finally planted himself by the table of various weapons and leaned against it. “How does it feel?”

Castiel tilted his head at Dean. “I don’t experience physical exhaustion like you do. It doesn’t feel like anything.”

“No, not the digging.” Dean’s thumb rubbed against the rough wood of the table. He lowered his gaze slightly, too embarrassed to say it while looking at Castiel. “Do I feel any different than Jimmy?”

Castiel tilted his chin up and inhaled as he thought. “You have a higher white blood cell count than Jimmy. Your cholesterol is higher than his as well.” He paused. “You also have more” —he squinted his eyes slightly as he decided on a word to use— “brightness to your vessel.”

“What, I’m blowing sunshine up your ass?”

“No,” Castiel responded, drawing his eyebrows together. “You’re the righteous man. You’re divine.”

He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. The sky was blue, two and two was four, and Dean Winchester was from the heavens. 

Dean scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not divine, Cas. I’m just a guy.”

He heard cracks of lightning. Castiel was no longer looking at him, deciding to move his gaze to something behind him. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, eyes twinkling in mirth. “Look behind you.”

Dean only had to turn his head slightly to see them. 

There were wings growing out of his back. Big and black, exactly like the ones he saw on Castiel. 

“No.” Dean shook his head. “This is all backwards.” He looked back at Castiel. “Am I dreaming?”

Castiel didn’t say anything, choosing instead to close the distance between Dean and him. For a second, Dean thought—

“Dude, you need to get a sleep apnea machine.” Sam laughed from where he was sitting behind the steering wheel. “You sound like an airplane.”

Dean tensed in his seat and checked his surroundings a few times to comfort himself. He was in the Impala with Sam. 

“I was sleeping?” he asked. 

Sam quickly glanced at him, keeping his attention on the road. “I don’t really know. Cas took over to kill the ghost and clean up, but then he just sat silently in the car. It was creepy.” Sam shrugged. “I just said something when you started to snore.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face. It hadn’t felt like a dream. Castiel must have done his forehead-touch thing to send him back to the land of the living. “Remind me to stop crashing after hunts. I get the weirdest dreams.”

“Yeah, you love it when I tell you what to do.” Sam checked the mirrors dutifully. “How’s Cas?”

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam. “Weren’t you the one who just talked to him?”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one he’s riding shotgun in.” Sam’s mouth quirked. “What’s that like?”

“It’s great.” Dean adjusted his position in the seat. “There, we talked about it. Can we stop by a store? I need to pick up some protein.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure thing.”

---

Dean was lying awake in his bed sometime between day two and day three when he finally asked it. 

The words rang in the silence of the night. “What’s it like needing a vessel?”

In the blink of an eye, Castiel appeared. This time, he was lying in the bed next to Dean, under the covers in three layers of clothing. Dean felt underdressed in his pajama pants and old band shirt. The two men were lying on their sides and looking right at each other. Dean thought about telling him to give him some space, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t physically there. 

Castiel was silent for long enough that Dean started to wonder if he was going to answer.

“It makes me feel demonic,” Castiel confessed. His eyes almost glowed in the dim light. “It should not be the will of heaven to ruin a life just to exist on the physical plane. Having to tear someone from their family, from their entire life. I admit, I feel some semblance of comfort knowing that Jimmy is in heaven.” He lowered his eyes in shame. “But Claire, Amelia. Even those in his life he wasn’t close to. Every human has such an intricate web of relationships and reasons to live. Using them as a vessel erases the beauty of humanity.”

Castiel paused. “Jimmy wasn’t my first vessel.”

Dean looked at him in silence, willing him to continue. 

“She was a young woman. Carlotta Richards.” Dean thought he could feel the phantom puffs of Castiel’s exhales on his cheek. “She left her family as a teenager. They didn’t approve of her.” Castiel looked at Dean meaningfully. “She saw me as a blessing. She didn’t realize she was cursed from the moment she let me in.”

Dean’s mouth was dry. “What happened?”

“The mission I used her for ended and I returned to the celestial plane.” Castiel continued to avoid Dean’s eyes. “Her heaven is beautiful. She spends her time in an eternal Saturday sunset on a picnic with her soulmate.” Castiel finally looked at him. “Dorothy.”

Dean held his breath. He was transfixed, completely and utterly. 

“What else?” 

“You,” Castiel said in a low voice. “This body is no closer to what I look like than yours is. I’m not a man with dark hair and blue eyes. I’m not a man at all. Angels’ true forms are their most personal expressions of the self. You deserve to see it.” Castiel’s voice was soft, so soft. He was nearly whispering when he spoke again, his eyes burning into Dean’s. “I wish that you could see who I truly am.”

Both of them wondered, in that moment, if this would be when it happened. Neither moved. 

Dean finally exhaled. “This is who you are.”

Dean blinked. Castiel was gone. 

He didn’t sleep a wink. 

---

It had been a few days. 

Dean could tell that Sam knew it was time for Castiel to go back. Dean knew too. He was eating breakfast when the man himself made an appearance. 

“It’s time for me to return to my rightful vessel,” Castiel said, sitting in the chair across from Dean that was empty a moment before. 

Dean nodded and finished the last bite of his cereal. “You sure?”

“I’ll do an examination of the vessel before I return.” Castiel watched Dean wipe the milk off his lip. “But I believe so.”

“Awesome,” Dean said. He stood up and brought his bowl to the sink. “Let’s get you back home.”

Castiel disappeared after that, leaving Dean to walk to his room alone. He knocked on Sam’s door as he walked by it. 

“Cas is going back to his vessel, you good?”

He heard a muffled, “Let me know how it goes!” from through the door and continued down the hall. Dean was vaguely grateful that Sam didn’t want to be in the room for it, but he didn’t care to examine why. 

Castiel blinked into existence again when he opened the door to his room. Dean turned on the light (thanking Sam for replacing the lightbulbs) to see him staring at his prone body from where he was standing at the foot of the bed. 

“What’s the verdict, Doc?”

Castiel hummed. “The spell seems to have run its course. It should be entirely safe for me to return to my vessel.”

“Good, good.” Dean went over to grab the chair he used before. “Sitting down again?”

Castiel nodded. 

Dean pulled the chair up to the same position, mind only spinning a little bit from seeing two Castiels in the same room. 

“So, what do I do?” Dean asked. “Just exhale really hard, or what?”

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, standing behind him. “I will take care of it. Close your eyes.”

Dean did. 

The reversal process was the same level of strange. It felt like someone was painlessly turning him inside-out. He could still feel the static over his lips as the white light trickled out of his mouth. He felt Castiel’s grace rubbing against the inside of his skin as it retreated up his body. Dean was glad he was sitting down, because his knees felt like they were made of Jell-O. 

Castiel began to rise into a sitting position as he returned to Jimmy Novak’s body. Dean subconsciously trailed after the white smoke as it left his mouth, closing the distance between him and Castiel’s true vessel. They both inched closer to contact as the cloud that was Castiel transferred between them. 

Dean wasn’t aware that he had been kissing Castiel until Castiel started kissing him back. 

It was like touching the surface of the sun. Dean leaned into Castiel’s body for a moment before pulling away. He felt like he was burning. 

“Woah, I—” Dean fought out a breath. 

Castiel was a deer caught in headlights. He scrambled off the bed and started moving away. 

Dean suddenly realized that he didn’t want him to go. He grabbed his forearm. 

“Don’t leave,” Dean pleaded. 

Dean didn’t let go of Castiel’s forearm. Castiel didn’t say anything. Dean kept not letting go. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s body was tense, like a rubber band about to snap.  

To Dean, It all made sense in that moment. Every hidden glance, choreographed touch, charged moment. Dean couldn’t imagine being content without him. He felt like a puzzle whose final piece had just clicked into place. 

Dean took a deep breath. “Cas, you’re my only happy ending. It’s you.” It was a revelation. “And I want a happy ending. I want a happy ending so bad it hurts.” Dean moved his hands to grip his trench coat by the lapels. “I’ve fought for it. I’ve died for it. I need the sun to set, Cas. I need you to be by my side when it does.”

“Dean,” Cas said. 

“So yes. Of course, yes.” Dean let go of Castiel’s now-crumpled trench coat, leaving his hands to slip and rest flat on Castiel’s chest. “Yes back then, yes today, yes tomorrow. Yes to you every day until I’m dead in the ground. Yes to every day after that.”

“Dean,” Cas prayed. He lifted a hand to cup Dean’s cheek. 

Dean’s eyes threatened to fill with tears, but his eyebrows were set sternly in place. “Please, Cas. I won’t ask you twice. Stay.”

“Yes.”

Castiel was the one who closed the space between them. It was electricity in motion. Their kisses were clumsy, awkward, but neither of them would change a thing as they fell onto Castiel’s bed and the kisses began to deepen. 

---

Dean would scratch the back of his neck as he stood next to Castiel, looking at Sam sitting at the table. 

“Hiya, Sammy,” he would say, getting his attention. “Cas and I are... Well…”

Castiel would interrupt. “Your brother and I are having sex now. We don’t plan on stopping.”

Sam would be caught off guard for a moment, but he would smile and laugh kindly with them at the absurdity of it all. 

“It’s about time,” he would finally say. “You two have been circling each other for a while now. It was either killing each other or…”

Dean would smile and say, “Falling in love.”

“Well.” Sam would laugh again. “I was gonna say making out. But that’s good too.”

Dean would feel embarrassed and lower his gaze to the floor for a moment. But Castiel would grab his hand, squeeze it, and everything would turn out alright. 

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #rowena macleod #i'm queueing this up so when it's posted i'll literally be getting top surgery lmaooo #how queer #anyways writing fan fic is so fun y'all #i had a good time working on this one <3 #but i am not mentally capable of writing smut so <3 #i should probs come up with a writing tag for this blog huh #uhhh #j writes

[etherrealoblivion]

Drive Me Insane

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer Reid is always getting on your nerves. Tensions rise and one day, he pulls you into the file room and snaps… just not in the way you think….

A/N: Early-Season-Twelve!Spencer. this is full-on HATE SEX fulfilling this request by @safertokiss and this request by @mggswhore. It’s rough and v sexy and angsty. Gif is mine! Enjoy! <3

tags: smut, penetrative sex, hate sex, enemies to lovers, angry sex.

RATING: EXPLICIT

Words: 4,363

MASTERLIST

~

You fucking hated him! You HATED him!

“REID!” storming out of the elevator, you headed straight for the desk of the asshole who had pulled the worst prank ever. “What the fuck is this?!” you screamed, slamming your coffee cup down on his desk, the beverage slightly spilling onto his work papers.

“Hey!”

“Don’t you fucking ‘hey’ me!” you were trembling with anger, bouncing on the balls of your feet and trying to ignore the people staring around you. “Explain yourself!”

The little cockfuck put on the most innocent expression you’d ever seen him manage. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, more to the onlookers than you. “Is there a problem?”

“Did you put him up to this? Did you tell him to write that?”

“Write what?”

Huh. He actually looked genuinely confused. But you weren’t buying it. You knew how evil he could be, always teasing you, correcting you, moving your stuff around, pulling pranks. If it weren’t for his stupid, pouty face, you’d slap the look right off of it. Oh, and you were coworkers but that was honestly more of an afterthought.

When it came to Spencer Reid, there was nothing that could stop you from exacting your revenge. Except maybe Unit Chief Emily Prentiss. Who, conveniently, hadn’t arrived yet.

“Don’t bullshit me, Reid! You fucking told the barista downstairs to give me some phony number! What’s the joke? I call it and it’s a phone sex line? A suicide hotline? What?!”

But Spencer simply stared at the cup, mouth dropped open and staring at the ten neatly written digits gracing the side of your coffee cup, a little heart to the side of them.

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke, “I didn’t… I didn’t do this, Y/N.”

A refute to that was on the tip of your tongue but he suddenly looked at you and you noticed a slight tint to his cheeks that for some reason, had you believing him.

“Wait…. You mean…?”

“Yep.” He stood suddenly, chair flying out from behind him with the force with which he stood. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer. Excuse me,” he grunted, storming off down the hall, leaving you thoroughly perplexed.

“What…. What just happened?”

Tara approached you, placing a light hand on your shoulder.

“You got a dude’s number and thought it was a prank by Reid. Happens to the best of us.”

Well, yeah, that was rather obvious. You were more referring to the fact that he had stormed off once he came to the same realization.

But, as always, before you could think for too long, Garcia sent out a mass text alerting you to a new case. Your contemplation would have to wait for another time.

~

“Maybe he just didn’t want anyone to see him?”

The team was gathered around a roundtable in the dingy police office of Wamego, Kansas, discussing why the unsub was dumping the bodies so far on the outskirts of town.

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Reid blurted, gesturing toward a map of the area. “There are more than enough areas to hide a body within the town’s limits. Plus, he dumped in the middle of the day so being seen isn’t his issue, he can hide easily in plain sight. The edge of town somehow connects to his comfort zo…. What?”

He trailed off once he noticed the grumpy look on your face. It wasn’t like you could help it! He was always refuting every little thing you said and constantly interrupting everyone.

“Well, Reid, if he’s so interested in the edge of town, why are all his victims abducted from the town square?”

Spencer stepped closer to you, eyes narrowing and lips turning downward.

“Maybe, Y/N,” he bit back, “he’s not picking these women at random, but targeting those he sees that look so obviously vulnerable. His end goal is to dominate them.”

“Seriously? Alexa Wells was a blue belt in karate and Tala Williams took a regular self-defense class. There was nothing vulnerable about these women at all!”

“If you weren’t so busy fretting over their physical capabilities maybe you would have noticed, they both possess a petite stature, making them more susceptible to attack.”

He was towering over you and staring at you with anger in his eyes. You, too, were having to fight back the urge to scream at him.

“So, what, you’re saying everyone with a small stature is asking to be dominated!”

“Nope, just you.”

He looked more shocked at his words than you did, taking a step back and glancing around the room for a moment before referring back to the map.

“I’m-I’m saying that the-the victims were all-all small—of-of small stature and that’s a-that’s a connection. Excuse me.”

And he bustled out of the room, leaving behind an audience of your coworkers whose gaze fell on you. Uncomfortable with the weight of their eyes on you, you excused yourself as politely as you could despite the anger and confusion rising in your throat. You didn’t return until you managed to compose yourself, and by then, the team had a new lead and Reid’s outburst was forgotten.

But not by you.

~

If the word ‘hate’ was a face, to you, it’d be Reid’s. To be fair, his face did possess a very… slappable quality. But, of course, you’d never act on that impulse. He never could quite push you to that edge. But, oh god, he got close sometimes.

Jesus. It was nearly 6:00 AM and you’d gotten a text about fifteen minutes ago from Garcia, summoning you in. Now, sitting in the briefing room, your thoughts had begun to wander into very vulnerable territory.

“Y/N?”

His voice grated your ears like sandpaper, the perfect tool to snap you out of your reverie. Why the hell did he have to arrive so goddamn early? 

“Yes, Reid?” you replied, putting on the most bored voice you could manage, not even bothering to spare him a glance as he sat down in the seat immediately next to you, shrugging off his shoulder bag.

“Why are you here so early?”

You looked at him, startled by the question. Who the hell was he to ask you that? He came in early all the time and you never bothered him about it.

“None of your business,” you snorted, glancing down at your phone, trying to get back to reading your article. But with Reid in the room, it was hopeless.

“Jeez. Okay. I was just asking a question. You know, when someone is so defensive it actually has a lot to do with their social life. Usually, they aren’t getting enough mental stimulation outside of work and in rare cases, it attributes directly to whether or not they’ve been receiving enough pleasurable intercourse.”

He nodded curtly as he finished, his own gaze dropping to a regular manilla folder, not even taking in your expression of pure shock. He must’ve found your silence startling enough because soon after, he looked up at you, crooking an eyebrow.

“What?” Quickly, his expression shifted to a mix of understanding and his cheeks went red so quickly. “Oh! I wasn’t saying that-that-that you weren’t… that you aren’t… I mean, not that you are… I just mean that….”

“What, you’re saying I’m not getting fucked properly?”

His mouth dropped open just as Rossi and Alvez entered, conversing loudly enough to miss your snarky comment. Clearly, though, they could detect the charged atmosphere in the room.

“Are we interrupting?” Rossi, the bastard, asked coolly, taking a seat as Luke did the same.

“Nope,” you smirked as more of the team entered. “Not at all.”

Although there was a pressing case to focus on, you couldn’t help but glance at Reid a little more often than usual.

~

“Alvez, Lewis, you two talk to the parents. Reid, Y/L/N, go to the BDSM shop and see what they can tell us about the whip.”

The urge to roll your eyes and groan was almost too great. Being in a car with Reid for too long gave you hives and as you typed the address into your phone, you glared at your phone for displaying the time to get there as a whole half hour. In a car. Alone. With Reid.

Strangely enough, it had been about a week or so since he’d made any snarky comments to you, seemingly preferring to keep his distance. You wondered what being stuck in a car together would be like. Hopefully quiet. Silent, ideally.

You really shouldn’t have raised your expectations.

“So, the whip is actually a pretty common item so if he paid with cash, it’s likely there won’t be much of a trail. If you wanna wait in the car, I understand, I can just run in and get the info.”

Huh?

“Why would I wait in the car?” That might’ve been the first genuine question you’d ever asked him excluding when you’d first met and asked his name. Since then, it had been a whirlwind of sarcasm and rhetoric.

“Y/N, it’s a sex shop,” he said, a slight glance over to you as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel slightly.

“And?”

“Well… I mean, you don’t wanna go in there.”

“Says who? Reid, it’s part of the job. I’m not scared of sex like you are.”

That got him stuttering, huffing and puffing, and trying to backtrack so fast he might as well have thrown the car in reverse. But you had arrived before you knew it, settling into an empty spot right in front of the store.

“I-I’m not s-scared of… of… I’m not scared of that!”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, a surge of confidence rushed through you as you exited the car, quickly quipping, “Oh, I can tell judging by how easy it is for you to talk about. It’s okay, Reid. Not everyone can handle dominating someone. Certainly not someone as submissive as yourself.”

As you entered the shop, you could feel his tension next to you the whole time you questioned the woman at the front desk. But there was something… off about it. It was like he wasn’t nervous being in the shop, he had no issue making eye-contact with the witness, speaking calmly and coolly, and not avoiding looking at the various sex toys scattered about. No, he was nervous about something else. Something you had said?

But it wasn’t like you didn’t tease him ruthlessly and regularly anyway. Had you struck a nerve? What was different?

Maybe he just didn’t like talking about sex stuff with you. It made sense, he hated your guts. Still…. There was something.

Something that didn’t get brought back up again until a week later, when the two of you were sitting at your desks during a lunch break with everyone gathered around, conversing quietly. Then Alvez had to go and stir the pot like the little pot-stirrer he was.

“Well, I’d have killed to see how Reid acts in a sex shop. Hey, Y/L/N, please tell me there were lots of dildos,” he joked, earning a laugh from the majority and a groan from Reid.

“Actually, he was much less freaked out than I expected. I assume it’s because he didn’t know what half the stuff in there was.”

Sparing a glance at Reid, you were startled to find he wasn’t looking away in embarrassment, but staring straight at you, glaring daggers.

The laughter bubbling up inside your throat at the teasing immediately subsided, replaced with a sudden rush of… fear? No, that can’t be right. You weren’t scared of Spencer Reid. The guy was harmless. Right?

“Can I talk to you privately, Y/N?” he hadn’t said it like a question you could say no to, rising from his seat and storming off to the file room.

Resistance was futile, and in this case, unnecessary, because whatever Reid had to say to you in that room, you could easily turn against him. Ricocheting his remarks came so naturally sometimes you didn’t even notice you were doing it.

You entered the filing room, fully expecting to see Reid shuffling papers and mumbling, working up the courage to yell at you.

Which is why you didn’t expect to be shoved up against the door as it slammed shut behind you, Reid pinning his hands on either side of your head, holding your faces inches apart. Your breath left and so did the words you’d been rehearsing on the short walk to the small room. You felt your mouth drop open and your gaze unintentionally fell to his lips. It took you a minute to realize he’d been talking. Desperately trying to play back what he’d said, you felt your earlier anger rise back up in your throat.

“What’s your problem with me? Huh?” he was unrelentingly forcing you to meet his eyes. “Why are you always coming after me for the stuff I say? Jesus, you’d think you’d show me a little compassion sometimes, but nooooo. Little miss princess just gets off so good making the team punching bag feel like a piece of shit.”

At his words, you finally found your voice.

“Me? You’re always the one fucking correcting me and bossing me around! You pick fights with me all the goddamn time!”

“Name one time.”

“Hmm, let me see, the time you told Garcia you needed her to hack my phone for a case! The time you fucking told me I was asking to be dominated. Just last week you assumed I didn’t wanna go into a sex shop because, what, I’m too innocent? Or maybe you just want to think of me that way and you hate that it’s not true. Hey, how about the time you pulled me into the file room and pinned me up against the door like a goddamn butterfly?”

You were getting to him, you could tell. His face had slackened but his gaze was much stronger, scrutinizing all of your features carefully.

“You know what else? You’re the only one on the team that calls me by my first name. And I have no idea why! Is it just to bother me or do you actually just not care about giving me any indicators that you respect me? I’ve been a profiler for ten years now and I still can’t read you for shit! You’re so fucking hot and cold you give me freezer burn! Christ, Reid. Sometimes I can’t tell whether you wanna fight me or fuck me!”

Three seconds. That was the time it took you to register that his lips were suddenly on yours, biting and nipping, tongue fighting to get into your mouth.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK!

Okay, listen… Normally, if someone you hated with all your heart pressed you up against a door and started to make out with you with the force of a thousand suns, you’d do what any sane person would do; shove them off of you and kick them in the junk. 

But Spencer Reid drove you fucking insane.

So, when you suddenly found your hands grabbing his face and pulling him in closer to you, opening your mouth enough to let him devour you whole, it wasn’t all that much of a rational decision. In fact, a whole series of irrational decisions happened in quick succession. 

He was pressing you against the door so harshly, it felt safe to let your feet leave the ground, legs coiling around his hips and gasping into his mouth as you felt his length brush your inner thigh. Fuck, he was hard. Oh god. The pressure must have caused your mind to really comprehend what in the fuck was happening here. 

Spencer Reid was kissing you up against a wall at work. But that wasn’t even the weird part. The weird part was... you actually liked it.

So, pushing down the thoughts of what a terrible idea this was, your hands gripped the lapel of his suit jacket, frantically pushing it off of his shoulders. As it hit the floor, he groaned, seemingly realizing where you wanted things to go.

He pulled back, tearing open the buttons of your blouse, words falling from his beautifully swollen lips.

“You’re such a goddamn tease. All the time. Wearing these tight little tops and expecting me to not rip it off of you?” he tsked, pulling open the top to reveal your bra, stopping in his tracks at the sight.

He was taking too long. Too fucking long.

Your hands reached for his belt, hurriedly sliding the leather from the strap, snapping it off of his pants and pushing them down.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this to happen,” you snarked as he picked you up and plopped you down on the small metal table in the center of the room, brushing aside all the papers atop it. Your back hitting the cool metal made you hiss but you went on, “I bet you brought me in here because you knew if we were alone together for more than five seconds, you’d snap. You wanted to fuck me, Reid.”

You were trying to sound like you still had some wits about you, but the truth was, they’d all flown out the window the moment his lips met yours. Those fucking lips.

He didn’t bother denying your claims, opting to roughly pull down your skirt and underwear, one strong hand tightly holding your bare thigh the whole time. Those fucking hands.

“Maybe,” when he spoke again, his voice had dropped two octaves, a register you’d never heard before that sent a flicker of pure delight through your veins, “you’re projecting, Y/N. I think you’ve wanted me to hold you down and fuck you this whole time. You’ve wanted me to shut that pretty little princess mouth up in any and every way possible so you rattle off teases and insults to make up for the fact that you’re just a little whore who is begging to be fucked.”

You heard your moan echo around the room before you even noticed you’d opened your mouth. Quickly, but not quickly enough, his huge hand snapped over your lips, stopping any further sounds from escaping. His other hand dug into his pants pocket and you could hear the crinkle of tin as he rolled on a condom.

All you heard before the world disappeared was, “Shut the fuck up,” as he slid into you in one perfect thrust, his left hand roughly digging into your hip as he grunted with the effort of holding back. But that wasn’t what you wanted. That wasn’t the point of this. And you told him just that.

“Reid,” you groaned through his hand and he relinquished his hold, “fucking fuck me!”

Apparently, you didn’t need to tell him twice.

He didn’t even bother trying to ease you into it, roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you against him with each sharp thrust. It took all you had to keep from screaming as a wonderful mix of pain and pleasure pushed you closer to the edge. Jesus, you were close to coming already after barely a minute.

It was like you said, Spencer Reid drove you fucking insane. 

Still, you weren’t quite ready to submit to him completely. There was still quite a bit of fight left in you.

“I bet you’re loving this. Thinking you’re finally in charge of me. I got news for you, Reid,” grabbing his shoulders, you pulled him down so you could whisper in his ear, relishing in the hiss he emitted at the change in angle. “I’m more than you can handle.”

Saying he went wild would be an understatement. He somehow managed to lift you all the way up off of the table, spin you around, and reenter you sharply within the span of two seconds. This time, you couldn’t stop the pathetic mewl that left your throat at the feeling of him inside of you.

Actually, what probably got you was the horrible, dirty things he was whispering in your ear unrelentingly as he pounded into you, one hand on your hip and the other yanking your hair back roughly.

“You think I don’t know how to handle a spoiled little princess? Tell me, who’s the one moaning and writhing underneath me? Huh? Oh, can you not answer because I’ve got my cock buried in you?” He slipped the hand that was in your hair down to your cheeks, squeezing and forcing them into a pucker. “Answer me.”

You could feel how close you were but his thrusts were so slow and patient now. He wasn’t nearly as close as you were. If you were doing this, you were making him come first. You needed to keep some power. You did decide to relinquish a bit of control to him.

“P-Please, Reid….” you whispered, smiling to yourself as he responded exactly as you’d expected.

“Please, what?”

He was moving so slowly now, barely giving you any relief, slowly pushing in the tip only to pull out hastily, leaving you grinding back on his for more.

“Please… please tell me you don’t actually believe that,” you snarked, pleased with the way he suddenly froze, seemingly not expecting to hear that from you.

Your shock, however, didn’t last long. Because after a very pregnant pause, you heard the rush of air come from behind you. Because you felt a sharp, sudden, stinging pain on your left asscheek. Because Spencer Reid had just fucking spanked you.

“Ahh!” you yelped as the heat flared up your body as he sped up his thrusts, entering you deeper and deeper each time.

“I think someone needs to teach you a lesson about what happens when you mouth off to the wrong person. This,” he added with a particularly sharp thrust, “is your punishment, princess. You actually thought I couldn’t handle dominating a little brat like you? You’re the one begging to be filled up like a little whore.”

“Reid,” you let the name slip, feeling yourself slowly giving in more and more the further he pushed you.

“Say my fucking name, princess.”

“Ah! Spe– fuck! Reid!” you keened, happily letting your body give in to the feeling of being totally and utterly used by him, barely noticing almost calling him his first name.

“Tell me, princess, do you even know how tight your little cunt is bouncing back on my cock? I bet I feel so big inside you. I guess you finally got what you needed: to be fucked properly. You’re lucky that I’m the one to do it. I know just how to handle you.”

You groaned as he snaked a hand around you to circle your clit relentlessly, barely managing enough energy to squeak, “I hate you.”

There was anger behind the words, but not honesty. And Spencer knew. It was clear as he leaned in to whisper in your ear a final time, he also knew exactly how to push you over the edge.

“Prove it.”

And in an instant, your climax hit you, washing over you like a waterfall, feeling your walls clench and tighten around Reid’s cock. Drowning in the pleasure of your orgasm, you didn’t even notice the way he grunted as he spilled himself inside of you.

You definitely didn’t notice the way he planted soft kisses to your shoulder blades as he pulled out, whispering small strings of praise. Or the way he stroked your thigh as he carefully pulled your underwear back up. You definitely didn’t notice that.

You hadn’t quite regained your energy, but you knew you had to stand up. Every muscle in your body, however, begged you to collapse to the floor. Luckily, Spencer caught you, prompting you to look up at him, trying not to show the hope that was so obviously shimmering in your eyes.

Strangely, he seemed to be looking at you in a similar sense. Not exactly hopeful but… worried?

“You okay?”

You nodded weakly, breaking the eye-contact and pulling away from him, scurrying to put your clothes back on.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

You knew you sounded curt but you just couldn’t bring yourself to express emotion right now. It was stupid, you knew, but in the heat of the moment, you had felt… connected to him. In a purely animalistic way, surely. In a ‘fuck me so hard you impregnate me’ way.

Pushing the fact that that thought got you a little excited to the back of your mind, you turned back to Reid who had also fully redressed. He was shifting on his feet, avoiding looking at you fully. 

“Well, now we know what to do next time we butt heads,” you joked, smiling softly to diffuse the tension.

He laughed but you could tell it was superficial. There was something the two of you weren’t saying and you were both waiting for the other to say first.

“We should probably get back out there, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, coughing and doing a ‘ladies first’ motion towards the door.

“Thanks,” you muttered, opening the door slightly, then glancing back at Reid, seeing him looking at you with the words neither of you would say.

“Hey, Spencer?”

He tried not to let his shock show but he did a horrible job. You couldn’t blame him though, it was the first time you’d ever called him by his first name.

“Y-yeah?”

“I… I don’t hate you.”

It wasn’t much, but he smiled liked it was everything. Maybe, in your own special way, it was.

“I don’t hate you, too.”

Giving him a little nod of your head, there was no way you could suppress the joyous smile that lit up your face as you exited the file room. Your coworkers would surely be suspicious, but you didn’t want to think about that right now. Spencer was the only thing on your mind the whole rest of the day and you were sure he’d stay there well into the week.

After all, Spencer Reid drove you fucking insane. Now, you knew, in more ways than one.

~

TO BE ADDED TO TAGLIST

~

(sorry if the tags aren’t working! i’ve been having some trouble)

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss     @cielo1984 @thupidalthea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid@aloha-ashley-taylor@justchiara-02@spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin@dreamy-reid @brokenanxiety @thatsonezesty13 @psychedelic-phase @beautifulalmondstudentduck@awhollandx@baddreamsandbrokenhearts@simp-for-mgg @swagdaddycam@gejatume@url-under-construction@krymson182@addie5264  @pinkdiamond1016 @gublergirls @georgia4287 @thineeminnie @untainted-memories @cm-is-kinda-cool @le-vie-en-amour1 @happyiidiot @wechillingcoop @blankets-for-bees @stewie-castle @dolanfivsosxox

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fandom #etherrealoblivion #smut #season twelve reid #reid #spencer

[arevolutionapproaches]

Opening commissions

Hi I’m Rowan. I’m a pre-transitioned trans guy who is currently battling various mental and chronic illnesses. As of today I have been out of hospital one day and out of work several weeks. Furthermore my mum has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in the brain and bones. This is her second cancer diagnosis (her first being stage 3 melanoma in her leg in 2020) and we are all really struggling as a family.

Because of this I have decided to open up both fic and art commissions. I’ll link my Ao3 in this post so if you’re interested you can check out my previous work. I’ll also mention that I’m a writer for @batgirlzine meaning someone has some faith in my writing ability 😊.

I’m happy to write for the bat family, the arrow family, the original fab five teen Titans, Gotham rogues and various DC comic characters. As well as the umbrella academy, multiple musicals, mcu characters (less so of newer movies but including the defenders), encanto and am willing to try one shots for original characters!

I am happy writing pretty much anything but smut. This includes heavy and/or triggering topics however I may decline if I feel I am not informed enough to do the topic justice.

Pricing starts at £5 for a one shot ranging 500 - 1500 words

Preferred payment will be through PayPal but I am willing to adjust for people

Please either contact me through tumblr or email me at [email protected]

If you’d prefer to communicate through discord send me a Dm of tumblr and we can sort that out!

I am willing to do drawings to accompany fics.

I will link a google drive portfolio demonstrating some of my art pieces. My style varies so feel free to select which one you like best. Pricing for art starts at £10 for a small flat coloured sketch. Please bear in mind that because I am capable of doing various styles pricing is going to vary more depending on what you pick

Any jobs will really help my situation and are so appreciated! Please share and spread this!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRowan/works I have more unfinished work and original work so if you’d like to sample that as well, let me know.

Art portfolio: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1XB29K2r4cy-ZabIJ7NDmWCNpyjtHf_Hl

#dc #dc comics #batman #batfam #art #commissions #signal boost #encanto #marvel mcu #ao3 #fanfic #digital art #marvel #the umbrella academy #art commission info #my writing #fic commissions #please help #please share #newsies #les mis #broadway #musicals #lgbt #lgbtqia #skin cancer

[hellroots]

『 MOBILE FRIENDLY RULES 』

— here you will find my rules or can also find them on my gdocs as well once i’m done with it. please like this if you read it, but otherwise don’t interact with this post, thank you. rest assured that i always read my moots rules before following and that i fully expect the same courtesy. i tried not to let them get too long but feel free to ask me anything you wanna know about them if it’s not clear ok?

 『 THE MUN』

NOXTROMUN, THEY/THEM, 21+, BRAZILIAN

shy but friendly ! i don't follow for follow, if i follow you that means i've read your rules and want to write with you. i have no triggers nor squicks of my own except drama in the dash, for that reason i do not engage in callouts/witch hunts and if you do it on a constant basis i might have to hard block you for my own peace of mind. although i may come off too strong/harsh, i am always up to talking things out privately. as long as you are civil, so am i. any form of hate will be deleted and blocked -  sometimes mocked, if i’m feeling cocky…

『 THE BLOG』

HELLROOTS, INDIE ( POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT MINOR FRIENDLY ), HIGHLY SELECTIVE & PRIVATE MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE

primarily run on a low activity \ effort and with a slow speed.. my muselist changes a lot, depends a lot on what i’m watching lately so bear with me please. this is a drama free zone, therefore do realise that mun ≠ muses and (obviously) writing ≠ condoning !! as a quick note, do keep in mind that my blog is my safe space, just as your blog is yours - you are responsible for your own internet experience just as i am responsible for mine. should anything in my blog annoy/trigger/squick you, i strongly encourage you to block me & not write with me - your mental health is far more important ( for me, and hopefully for you as well ) than rp. on that note, please do not softblock me - that’s annoying, just hardblock please.

『 THE TRIGGERS』

TRIGGER HEAVY, PROPERLY TAGGED AND TAKING NO CRAP

i  usually  tend to write for trigger heavy fandoms (such as asoiaf, kingdom and others) and may incorporate some of it into my writing, muses' backgrounds and overall characterization. if you're bothered \ squicked \ triggered by that, i kindly encourage you to reconsider and not follow me. no amount of rp fun is worth your mental health.  i try to tag everything accordingly and i fully expect the same courtesy for our followers' sakes. be aware that there may be mentions of death, gore, violence, consanguinamory \ endogamy (especially when it comes to the lannisters and kekkei genkai clans), rape ( kingdom, though it will only be mentioned on the character’s backstory ) and cannibalism ( hannibal and kingdom ) , as well as unhealthy relationships and dynamics alongside with powerplay, and otherwise bad behaviours.  for all that is sacred, please, do note that i, the mun, do not approve, support or condone any of these actions or behaviours !!  i simply am capable of separating fiction from reality. as long as everything is properly tagged, with mutual consent and there are no minors involved (muse and especially not muns), . i support the right of a consenting adult to explore these awful dark topics in a safe fictional environment with other like minded consenting adults, people shouldn’t have to share their traumas to strangers on the internet to explain why they write what they write, be considerate. if that notion bothers you perhaps you might not want to interact with me, for both of ours sakes. fair warning, most of my graphics and aesthetics might trigger those who have xylophobia/hylophobia (phobia of trees or wooded areas), and considering it is a main theme here i will not be tagging it, i'm sorry. but its too many. however, if you want me to create a special tag for you, there's no issue! it will be either "[your mun name] don't look!" or "[your url] don't look!", whichever you prefer. QUICK EDIT/ADDITION: i do not believe that aging up fictional characters is inherently a bad thing - from what i understand, the whole appeal of aging up a character is that while you like their personality but you do not want them to be kids (for whatever reason) but insteasd adults. if you are one of those who think that aging up a character is automatically something bad (without even knowing why it was done in the first place) don’t bother following me because i do think that opinion is quite silly.

『 THE INTERACTIONS』

OC, DUPLICATE, MULTIMUSE AND CANON DIVERGENT FRIENDLY

my tagging system is simple, i tag triggers as "tw; x" and . images that may be sensitive or triggering as "cw; x". you can further see how my tags work by taking a look at my tag dump post, just search ‘tag dump’ on my blog and you will find the most recent one i’m using.    i shitpost and talk oocly on the dash constantly but you can easily blacklist my tag if it bothers you.  here's something you should know about me:  when i'm doing drafts i usually don't feel like chatting much, so please do not spam me because i won't be able to reply, i love to talk with my moots but sometimes it overwhelms me.  on that note, please don't pester me for replies ic or ooc, i am slow and chances are that if you try to guilt trip me or just nag me about it i'll leave as the ones i'll get to in the later end on purpose, just out of spite. yes, i be like that.   please be patient - i’ll never pressure you and expect the same in return.  plotting wise: i prefer to just wing it with just a faint idea of where to take the thread but honestly i'm cool with anything. please be considerate when formatting your replies, i have a bad eyesight & if i can't read it, i won't bother with it.   my own formatting is simple and clean.   on a smaller note, please bear with me and my muses as my muses ramble a lot but you don't have to match the length, just give me something to work with. if we write together, the chances of me making edits/tagging you in stuff are really big, just lmk if you don’t like that though !

『 THE FLEET』

MOSTLY BI/PAN MUSES, MULTISHIP AND MULTIVERSE, SMUT FRIENDLY

i love shipping but i like my ships to be devices to move the plot/dynamics/muses forward, every once in a while though i partake in some much loved self indulgent shipping. just because i ship a certain pairing don't presume that my characters are approaching yours with second intentions, please.   most of the time i like to reblog those relationship memes, so if you’re interested in a ship the best way (other than  sending me a message ofc) to let me know is by sending ones. there will be some triggering ships here ( like the lannisters, both cersei x jaime and joanna x tywin are my otps, and potential inter clan ships, like with the hyugas - i mean how the hell you think they keep the byakugan in their family?? ) that may either be played with trusted friends or be mentioned/reblogged sometimes, all properly tagged so you can easily blocklist/avoid it.  most of my muses are either bi or pan, those who are not will be specified. don't be afraid to reach out to me for shipping right off the bat - i'd rather have you to be open and honest with me about the interactions you want than lying to me, just know that there will be needed some plotting and threading first to see if your muses match. as an adult, my blog is smut friendly, i partake in sexual sunday a lot because some of my muses are very lewd in nature, you can blacklist my tag if that bothers you as well.

『 THE FINAL NOTES』

GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES, CREDITS, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RULES

lastly but not least, general rp etiquette applies on my blog: no godmodding, forced ships, etc. there’s only ONE thing that truly makes me go apeshit crazy, and it’s when people don’t read my rules. i ALWAYS find out and it’s not pretty; i block it like it’s hot, ♪ ♫ ♬ block it like it’s hot ♪ ♫ ♬.   i strongly assure you that i always read your rules before both following you and also before sending memes, just in case. on a much smaller note, i’m not so hot on single shipping and i really feel weirded out about people forcing me to pic who i’m going to interact with due to theirs DNI’s. while i get DNI’s when it comes to actual predators, when it’s something seemingly random chances are that i’ll softblock you because it weirds me out how volatile some can be when it comes to a hobby. i have some trigger heavy hcs ( for example, the one about jiraiya’s hypersexuality being rooted in trauma that he suffered at a young age ) that i share with only a few muns that are closer with me, so i’ll be mentioning them every once in a while but won’t share them, please don’t insist.  i don’t really like most of the main characters of the franchises i write for, and when it comes to certain characters  i reserve the right to decline an rp for my own comfort. for further info on what i use to make my graphics please check my “CREDITS.” tag.  most of my stuff is made by me, i’ve got a lowkey rph in case you wanna check it out it’s @brazucahelps, however if you want a custom content i can see if i get a free time to come up with something :D

 IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH — JUST ONE LAST THING, COULD YOU PLS LIKE THIS SO I KNOW YOU’VE READ IT? <3 THANKS!

#RULES.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

summer sizzle | sweet - mjf [m]

[ prompts of choice ]

Honestly... I had a whole ass prompt set chosen for this but the need to write Maxwell as an actual fucking softie took over and I wound up not actually using ANY of the prompts I chose. So. Yeah. This is just an oc, softly getting railed by Maxwell.

[ pairing ]

Maxwell Jacob Friedman x Female!OC, Bianca. You will probably see more out of these two. I enjoyed writing this and maaaybe I’m tempted to do more with them as a result.

[ authors notes ]

I offer no apologies nor do I make any excuses. And the brunt of this was the result of a late night conversation between @unabashedwrestlefics​ and I last night. So. Yeah. Viv, if you’re reading, I love and blame you partly for this.

[ warning ]

Maxwell written as an actual sweetheart... provided that he actually gives a fuck about someone. Probably gonna piss a few people off but again, idec. I wanted this. I needed it. Smut. Not a condom to even be thought about. Body fluids. Biting. A little dirty talk, but mostly just teeth rotting filthy fluff.

[ tag squad ]

@kyleoreillysknee​

@rampagewriting​

@writertoo18​

@thatnerdwriter​

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​

@chasingeverybreakingwave​

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif​

@unabashedwrestlefics​

@wardl0w​

@wrestlingthot​ 

@missjenniferb​

@adampage​

@cowboyshit​

@cabotcoves​ 

[ tag list doc - masterlist - about page ]

                             MJF & BIANCA, SOFT.

By the time Mox was pinning Maxwell for the 3 count, I was watching the match through my fingers, almost sick to my stomach and definitely dreading what the outcome of this match would most likely spell out.

If there was ever a night for the shoe to drop and the mask to come down, tonight was that night. 

I was so sure of it that as soon as Maxwell stepped through the curtains, dried blood caked on his forehead, I’d mentally prepared myself a thousand times over for the tongue lashing of the decade. My eyes darted around but I didn’t see any of the girls I’d gotten to know in my short time working with the company.

I took a deep breath and I tentatively made my way over to him, choosing to keep my mouth shut as I typically do around him. The tension was thicker. I could see the anger brewing in his eyes. I could feel the tension in his body as I wordlessly slipped one of his arms around my shoulders to keep him a little more steady.

“Where the fuck is he?” Maxwell’s anger laced outburst shattered through me being lost in survival mode and I gazed up at him, a brow raised. “Who?” I finally asked.

“Fucking Wardlow. He did that on purpose.” Maxwell scowled and his eyes darted around the crowded hallway, searching for a sign of Wardlow. 

As he did this, I took a shaky breath or two, preparing myself for what everyone’s been warning me about for weeks as far as he’s concerned.

Everyone’s so convinced that sooner or later, Maxwell is going to show me his nasty side and I am going to get hurt. I can’t count on both hands the number of times since creative stuck me as his valet upon arrival that I’ve had people pop up and offer condolence, -or protection, should the need arise. I guess I let that all get to me, because I’ve been living on pins and needles for weeks now and honestly?

Maxwell has literally never been anything like people claim he is towards me. I won’t say he’s been overly nice, because he’s just a naturally abrasive guy, but he hasn’t been the cold hearted bastard people write him off to be, either.

If anything, being his valet has been… well, it’s been strange. Because all this stuff people told me about him?

I’ve gotten the exact opposite, from him.

People told me he’d treat me like a toy. That he’d constantly tell me I was below him. That he’d probably wreck my self esteem. 

None of that’s happened.

Maxwell spotted Wardlow while I was lost in my own thoughts and fears and before I could stop him, he was shoving through the crowd, catching up to the other man, shoving at him. 

“Damn it.” I swore quietly to myself, pushing through the crowd gathered around them as they fought and trying to pull them apart. Every now and then I could hear bits of what was being said in between licks passed and shoves and punches, but it wasn’t enough to know exactly what had the two men fighting other than the fact that for whatever reason, Maxwell seemed convinced that Wardlow purposely cost him the title belt.

What got my attention was when my name came up. Maxwell seemed to be accusing Wardlow of something that had everything to do with me and Wardlow wasn’t bothering to deny it, either.

The whole thing was just… Too much for me, so I slipped away, hoping to just go somewhere quieter and pull myself together. As I rounded the corner, Mox stopped me, an arm beside my head as he stared down at me intently, this shit-eating smirk on his face that had his eyes dancing.

“What?”

“Better brace yourself, kitten. Gonna get the brunt of Maxy’s anger because Wardlow’s done with his shit.” Mox said it calmly, hoisting the belt over his shoulder as he continued to stare me down. I shrank back and bit my lip, trying to come up with any form of rebuttal.

Nothing came.

But it did leave me wondering. What if everyone was wrong about Maxwell? And I wasn’t stupid, I could look into Jon Moxley’s baby blue eyes and know that I was just another way to stick it to Maxwell and that just made me angry. So far, Maxwell had done literally none of the shit everyone kept accusing him of being capable of and literally every single guy back here? Turning out to be the ones who kept their truest selves hidden. Like Mox and his half-assed lazy little warning. Who the fuck did he think he was?

I stood taller, staring up at him in defiance. “So what? Is this you, offering to protect me? I hate to break it to you, Mox but… I don’t need or want your protection. I finish what I start, come whatever may.” 

Even with my voice wavering just a little as I spoke, I was still impressed with myself because it was more me, less this unsure and quiet little meek thing I’d allowed myself to become just to tread on eggshells and keep from making waves. I stepped beneath his arm and slunk through the doors leading out into the parking lot, letting the night air hit me and calm me down a little. I pulled myself up onto a brick half wall and sat there, staring up at the night sky as I tried to work through all this confusion in my mind right now. Trying to pick the best path of the two I was currently torn between.

Everybody kept at me about how ruthless and cold and unfeeling Maxwell was. And yet, he hadn’t ever come across as any of those things. But I kept circling back to everyone saying it. Everyone being convinced they were right and they knew exactly what was going to happen to me.

I even had one of the girls in hair and makeup suggest to me that he was dangerous because he knew exactly how to pour on the charm and make you fall for him, but when he was tired, he knew how to turn off that charm and leave you feeling like you were nothing, like you were lost without him.

If it wasn’t at least a little true, I reasoned with myself as I waited on him to walk out of the arena, then why did everyone keep saying it?

By the time I heard the door being thrown open and my name being called,I’d made up my mind… Just keep doing what I’ve been doing for weeks now. Prepare myself for the worst. Keep waiting it out, see what happened in that regard.

He was towering over me and I tore my gaze off the moon and stars above to meet his intent gaze, my eyes searching a little, waiting on Wardlow to pop up like usual.

“Wardlow’s taking his own fucking vehicle tonight.” Maxwell mumbled quietly, gazing at me a few seconds. I nodded and took a deep breath, standing. At this point, I was just tired. I wanted to get to the hotel, get to the privacy of my own room and think. To try to figure out all this internal conflict. To try to figure out why exactly, despite everyone’s repeated warnings over the past few weeks, I still couldn’t deny that for whatever reason, there was this magnetic pull to the guy - and what that said about me if the ride to the hotel went as bad as I was half afraid it would. 

Our bodies brushed together and I realized that yet again, we were migrating closer to each other. It happened a lot if I really stopped to think about it. It happened almost as much as the way he always seemed to be where I was. More than once I’d looked up to find him sort of staring at me. He’d always look away first, of course, but I couldn’t deny that I’d caught him looking on more than one occasion.

And then another thought hit me. I liked it. 

“We should get going.” Max’s quietly muttered statement shattered through the bit of an epiphany I was currently having and I glanced up, swallowing hard when I found him staring down at me with this look in his eyes.

“It was just a match. Just a leather strap.” I don’t know why I said it, but I felt like maybe he needed to hear it. I tensed a little in the seconds following because I was at least half sure that he’d explode.

Because yes, I was still waiting on the mask to be peeled away and Maxwell to show me this nastier side people seemed to keep reminding me he had. The side I’d seen come to the surface so easily with pretty much everyone else.

“I’m tired and it’s late.” he muttered quietly, his eyes still locked on me. When our bodies bumped against each other all over again, I bit my lip just to keep the unexpected quiet whimper that rose to my throat from coming out. When I couldn’t take the way the tension between us seemed to be growing heavier with each second that passed, making my breath catch in my throat, I spoke up quietly. 

“We should get going, Maxwell.”

I reluctantly stepped away a little, everyone’s repeated warnings about the man filling my head. The unease I’d been feeling earlier had lifted slightly and now I was just left with confusion. Tension. My own little pesky thoughts as of the last few minutes.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost swear he pouted slightly when I stepped away. I dug around in my pockets for the keys to his rental car and raised a hand, aiming the key fob in the general direction of the car, unlocking it and starting the engine. Then I turned to him and found myself on the receiving end of another one of those stares.

Which had me fidgeting more than a little, I could feel my thighs starting to slip off of each other. I reached out, prepared to take his gear bag, but he shook his head, slinging it over his shoulder as he fell into step beside me. For the entire walk across the lot, neither of us really said anything.

Like usual, he opened the passenger door and gestured for me to get in. I scoffed at him and shook my head. I tensed in anticipation of a potential argument or him being nasty towards me, but I took a deep breath and eyed the passenger seat and then him as firm as I could.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you drive when you just went through that.” I muttered as calmly as I could, continuing to hold his gaze.

,, why do you even care?” the thought bubbled to the front of my mind and I shoved it out, choosing to ignore it until later. 

I needed to make it to the hotel. To the sanctuary of my own room so I could relax for the night. 

Rather than argue, Maxwell sank down into the passenger seat, his head leaning against the headrest, his eyes closing. For the entire ride to the hotel, neither of us really said anything. And the tension that seemed to linger between us almost constantly?

So much heavier.

Not necessarily in a bad way, either.

I pulled the car into the empty space in the third row and I killed the engine, sitting there for a second or two, sort of collecting myself. In that time, Maxwell had gotten out and grabbed not only his gear bag but my bag from the trunk. I was just trying to process. To figure out whether it was safe to relax a little or whether the shit storm was incoming. A gentle rap at the drivers window had me looking up just as Maxwell opened the door on my side, staring down at me.

He held out a hand and I eyed it briefly, letting my eyes dart upward only to be locked on his.  Naturally, he wasn’t bothering to say anything, instead, that cocky little smirk played at his lips.

He’s never very talkative with me. It’s weird, it’s almost as if he just doesn’t know what to do or say, so he does and says nothing. And yet, I found myself thinking, maybe that in itself says everything I need to know. My own gut feeling should’ve been enough for me to ignore everyone else’s warnings, but given that I’ve been burned two significant times in the past and whenever I’m around Maxwell, I always feel like I’m seconds away from letting my guard down. Which isn’t a bad thing but given what people keep telling me, I’m fully aware that it could backfire and be the thing that hurts me in the long run.

I don’t enjoy being a bundle of raw nerves around the guy. I want to be able to fully give him the benefit of the doubt. I want to relax. I’m just so afraid to do so until I can’t around him a lot of the time. 

I blew at the shaggy strands falling into my eyes and tentatively, I reached out, taking hold of his hand. He pulled me up and out of the car seat. He pulled me with such a force that our bodies collided and his arm shot out, wrapping around me, hauling me closer as he continued to just silently stare down at me. And if the look in his eyes was anything to go by and I were a lot more… Hopeful… I’d almost swear that he intentionally pulled me closer. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what he was staring at or why he was always doing it but I didn’t dare.

If I thought my thighs were slipping off of each other before, it was nothing compared to right now, the literal flood taking place in my panties at the look in his eyes. My breath caught a little in my throat and I managed a nod towards the hotel.

“Standing here isn’t getting us in.” Maxwell muttered the words quietly just as I was about to say them and I nodded in a daze, still trying to tear my eyes out of his. Neither of us had stepped away from the other. And that tension lingering between us?

Almost at a boiling point.

“It’s not.” I managed a quiet laugh as I finally tore my eyes off him and reached for my things. He shook his head. I didn’t want to argue, so I fell in step beside him quietly, the two of us body to body in the doorway leading into the hotel when he held the door open for me and I went to step inside at the same time as him. I gulped and found my eyes focusing on his mouth and despite all my best efforts, I stared for a good second or two.

From behind us, Jericho’s throat cleared and this only made me step closer to Maxwell and it hit me then.

I do that a lot. If someone comes up and I don’t feel comfortable? I find myself migrating closer to him.

I felt the warmth of his hand lingering at my lower back, fingers grazing right against bare skin and I felt a wave of heat  rushing to my cheeks. Normally, he just kind of puts his hand there.

“Are you two going to move or stand there all night?” Jericho’s voice broke through our moment and I glanced over Maxwell’s shoulder, scowling at the man. Maxwell’s hand left my back and he whirled around, squaring up almost, a quiet growl slipping out as every single part of him tensed up.

“Max.” I mumbled his name cautiously. I was still very much trying not to rile him up.

“Just a minute, Bianca.” Maxwell grumbled, his gaze fixed firmly on Jericho. I rolled my eyes and reached out, tapping at his shoulder, immediately drawing my hand back just to be safe.

“I think you should probably listen to your pretty little valet, Friedman. This is a fight you don’t wanna start. Take your bruised ego and move it out of my way.” Jericho smirked as he said it and I tensed up all over again. Maxwell’s gaze flitted back and forth between me and Jericho for seconds that felt like years, anger flashing in his eyes almost dangerously until they settled on me. He took a deep breath and shoved at Jericho a little, muttering quietly, “I didn’t say you could talk to her, did I?”

“Maxwell. For the love of ten thousand fucks, the line.” I stopped mid sentence, giving Jericho my best hateful glare when my eyes met his and I found him staring at me like I was a piece of meat. “Jericho, if you don’t want a stiletto to the eyeball, I’d suggest you stop looking at me in that tone.” I snapped, biting my lip as I was quick to pull my gaze off the old creep and fix it back on Maxwell, nodding to the reception desk. “Line. Now.”

With one last lingering angry glare, Maxwell turned away from Jericho and we started to walk towards the line, falling into the end of it. I shuffled my feet and when he chuckled quietly, I glanced up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Maxwell shook his head and went silent again. The line was getting shorter and I could feel myself relaxing a little more with each second that passed because it meant that I was closer to being in the sanctuary of my own room.

Where I could decompress, finally.

I had a lot to think about.

I took to scrolling through my Instagram account and a time or two, I felt his eyes on me. I rolled my eyes at the comments on a bikini pic I’d posted at a family barbecue the last time I’d been home and grumbled under my breath at an ex who’d slithered himself into my dms.

I felt Maxwell tense up beside me and after shoving my phone back into the pocket of my leopard print jacket, I glanced up at him, quickly looking away again when I saw the look in his eyes and I felt my cheeks starting to burn hot all over again. I shuffled my feet and squeezed my thighs together slightly but it didn’t help.

It was our turn at the check in desk now.

“A double?” the clerk flashed a smile at Maxwell and I. Honestly, I figured this would be the part where Maxwell made some cutting remark and demanded his own room, but to my surprise, he chuckled and dug into the sweats he was wearing to produce his wallet, passing it through the plastic barrier between our side of the desk and the other side.

I kept waiting on him to correct the assumption, but he never did. And for some reason, whenever I went to speak up and do so, my mouth refused to cooperate with my brain and make the words form. 

As soon as the paperwork was filed and the clerk was handing us back our identification and Maxwell his wallet, I found myself gazing up at him, puzzled.

He bit his lip and stared down at me intently. 

“That was okay, right?” he finally asked the question a good ten seconds later when we were standing in front of the elevator.

,, oh sure, sure. I’m fine, this is fine.” I thought to myself as the tension I thought I’d be getting rid of the second I was behind the doors of my own hotel room returned with a vengeance. Rather than argue, because I was still tiptoeing around him very much so at this point, I took a deep breath, gave him my best calm smirk and nodded.

Like a good girl.

Not rocking the boat, not making any waves.

But now, on top of everything else on my mind, I had yet another new thing to unravel… If everyone says he’s such a cold and heartless bastard, why in the hell would he take every opportunity he could get to be around me?

Because this has happened once before.

And yes, it was one hell of an intense weekend. I spent most of it down at the hotel pool or the hotel bar, just so I felt like I could breathe a little.

Because damn if being around the man almost constantly didn’t leave me breathless and so full of tension I thought I’d explode at any second.

The elevator doors slid open and I hurried on, leaning against the wall in the back. Maxwell stopped beside me, leaning in a little. “You know if you didn’t want to share a room, you could’ve said something.”

His voice was quiet, almost teasing. Almost as if he were amused by this. I’d been scrolling through my phone again and without looking up, I couldn’t, because God if I did, he was going to see the way my cheeks were burning bright red right now, I shrugged a little. “If I didn’t want to, you’d know it.”

The fact that when I said it it was 1000 percent true and I didn’t even realize it until I said it had my mind blown. 

“Interesting.” he mumbled, mostly to himself. I scrolled through my Instagram feed again, trying to focus on anything but the night ahead. Or the tension between us that was now so thick that I felt like at any second, either one of us was going to explode.

The elevator squeaked and slowed to a death crawl and at one point, it lurched just a little, sending me into Maxwell’s side as I tensed on impact. “What the actual fucking..” I whined a little, eyes widening in panic at just the thought of now being trapped on an elevator.

“It’s just an elevator.”

His voice was calming, his breath tickling the shell of my ear and serving to make me almost painfully aware of the fact that I was pressed completely into his side and he’d slipped an arm around me to keep me there. “I realize that, but I need you to understand it’s called claustrophobia, sir.” I muttered the words in a daze, my gaze settling on him. 

“That’s it. Keep lookin at me.” his voice was softer, an almost lazy drawl as he spoke. Neither one of us was making an effort to look away, god knows I tried. Somehow, just realizing that I’d fallen for the guy and people had warned me about him repeatedly just made me feel uneasy when he’d never shown me any actual reason to.

I gulped and nodded, my breathing syncing with his and I started to feel a little calmer. The elevator roared to life again and I relaxed a little, my shoulders slumping as I did so. 

“Thank fuck.” I muttered quietly, making him chuckle a little as he reached up and brushed some hair out of my eyes, smoothing it behind my ear, giving a satisfied nod as he did so.

It felt like an eternity between the elevator starting back up again and when we finally reached our floor, but the doors finally slid open and I hurried off, stopping to wait on him.

He caught up just as I found the door to our hotel room and started to dig around in my pockets for the keycard and he tapped my shoulder.

I whirled around so fast that I catapulted myself right against him and before I could stop myself, a quiet whimper slipped out of my mouth. My eyes lingered on his lips and I took a shaky breath before forcing myself to look up and lock eyes with him. He was already staring at me, hints of an amused gleam in his eyes as he licked his lips slowly.

If I thought I had my thighs clenched before, they clenched so tight this time that I felt a dull ache starting to build. 

“What?” my question came out quietly and he bit his lip and shook his head, again saying nothing. He took the keycard from my trembling hand and slid it through the card reader, pushing the door open as soon as the little light turned green and buzzed.

I stepped in, dropping my bags on the second bed and immediately shedding my shoes then flopping back first onto the bed, my eyes fluttering shut as I took a few seconds to attempt to decompress.

Tonight had been a lot. All I wanted was to try and fall asleep now that I was starting to realize that whatever explosion I’d been waiting on Maxwell to have apparently wasn’t coming.

Maxwell spoke up, shattering the silence in the room. 

“Are you always this tense? Or is it me?”

I rose up slightly, propping on my elbows and staring at him a few seconds, completely unsure of how best to answer. 

I felt really, really bad, because there was just something soft and quiet in his voice when he asked the question. And he wasn’t really looking at me, either, his gaze fixed intently on his hands instead. It was nothing like the strong and self assured guy the world saw on television. And if it hadn’t been for the weeks of literally everyone seeing fit to shove warning after warning about the guy down my throat constantly, I would’ve felt even worse.

I’d been tense, I’d been dancing and tiptoeing around him because I didn’t want to see that side of him. God knows I saw enough of that in an ex or two. I’d been holding my breath and waiting on him to be just like everyone said.. Or like those exes that I let my guard down for and I only ended up getting hurt by them.

As it all sank in, I shook my head, laughing at myself softly. If anything, this was not how I’d seen tonight turning out.

“ It’s not so much you as the shit everyone keeps saying. And the magnetic pull I keep trying to fight where you’re concerned...” I admitted quietly as I stood, starting to pace. Starting to ramble. Everything was spilling out of me because I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I couldn’t keep going like this. “Everybody keeps telling me that you’re eventually gonna snap or worse, you’re gonna go cold towards me when the novelty of having a valet wears off and damn it, I just… I can’t deal with that happening. I’m afraid that you’re going to turn into my ex. I’m afraid that if I let my guard down, if I…”

He was watching me now and I could tell he was processing what I was saying. When I went quiet, he took a deep breath. “If you what?”

“If I let myself go ahead and fall for you, I’m only going to get burned all over again. And this time, it’ll be so much worse because this time, I’ll know it was the real thing and somehow, I wasn’t enough.”

 I sank back down on my bed and let out a ragged breath, raising my hand to my forehead as I gave a quiet laugh. “The funny part of all this is it’s too fucking late. I did anyway and I’m just so goddamn tired of fighting it. Of spending second after second reminding myself that everyone keeps telling me you will hurt me. You will turn some hidden nasty side, that people seem to think you possess, on me. And I’m realizing now that you’ve pretty much shown that side with other people. But never with me.” 

I kept my eyes closed as soon as I finished talking. Looking up at him was not an option, not for me, not at this particular moment. I kept waiting on laughter or some kind of cutting remark, the things I know he’s capable of and the things that I’m used to seeing from him with everybody else we know but nothing came.

He kept sitting there, silent and staring at his hands. Until he wasn’t. I sighed and stood, gathering my things to go and take a shower. Honestly, I thought that if I just got out of the room then maybe I could distance myself from the outburst I’d just had and the fact that his lack of a reaction did sting just a little. I thought that if I took a long and hot soak, I could get rid of some of this tension built up inside me.

I reached for the handle on the door to the on-suite bathroom and my breath caught in my throat, escaping in a quiet hiss as his chest pressed against my back and his hand covered mine over the handle. I turned around and my back connected with the door in a soft smack. For at least five seconds, all I could really do was stare up at him. He was staring right back, neither of us were saying anything. 

“So that’s it. You tell a guy you’re falling in love with him and then you go hide in the bathroom?” a teasing smirk played at his lips and I gulped as I felt his hips really press into mine, the handle of the bathroom door digging into my lower back softly. 

That didn’t last for long because while I was distracted by the way it felt to have that hard,muscular frame pressed so close to me and by the way I just wanted to raise to tiptoe and tug at his scarf to pull his mouth down to meet mine, I missed the way that his hand slipped between my lower back and the door. But as soon as I realized it, I whimpered quietly and despite trying desperately to control myself and keep at least a little bit of my guard up, I found myself pressing into him, our bodies rubbing together lightly. His other hand glided over my curves, going still at the hip as he dug fingertips into my skin lightly. 

When he exhaled, it was shakier. When I found myself rubbing against him all over again, he groaned quietly, his mouth opening and closing like he was just about to say something but he backed out at the last second.

Fitting, because I’d be damned if I knew what to say at the moment, all things considered. All I did know was that the urge to take his face in my hands and kiss him until I couldn’t breathe was doubling, no, tripling by the second and it was getting so that I was fidgeting a little in a last ditch attempt to keep from doing so on a whim.

One of us had to cave, to do or say something. I was determined that it wasn’t going to be me. Because every single time I’ve caved in the past, it hasn’t gone well for me. His forehead rested against mine gingerly and the hand on my hip raised, resting against the side of my face and he chuckled quietly.

“You realize if I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t have demanded you as my valet… Right? I had to do something, they were going to put you with Mox. One of those other assholes.” his mouth brushed right against mine as he went quiet and I didn’t think, I just reacted. My hand caught on the side of his face, steering his mouth right back against mine and my other hand caught in his hair, giving a little tug. He pulled back, staring at me a second or two and shook his head, raising a finger to my lip when I went to speak. “I don’t waste my time. When I want someone, I want them.” filled the silence and sent the last of the tension I felt scattering and he was pressing into me with more urgence now, his hand against the side of my face as he leaned down, his mouth crashing against mine, his body rubbing against mine and making me whimper into the kiss as his tongue pushed between my lips, parting the barrier they formed to tangle with mine.  

The kiss broke, and we pulled back from each other to breathe, Maxwell staring down at me with this wild fire burning in his eyes as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, the ragged rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took making it crystal clear that he was well past worked up if that weren’t already obvious to me before.

 His hands caught on either side of my face as his forehead settled against mine and he stared down into my eyes. If I thought either one of us had a chance to properly catch our breath I was wrong because just when I caught my breath, his lips latched onto my lower lip all over again, nipping hungrily. “I mean that.” he muttered in a harsh intake just before his tongue slipped between my lips all over again, “ I don’t say things I don’t mean.” 

I could feel his cock really starting to strain at the sweats he was wearing and I whimpered as he kept bucking himself against me and his mouth strayed from mine to wander right down the front of my throat. The hand resting against my cheek lowered to rest against the side of my neck, holding it still as the blunt of his teeth caught on my skin, littering it with little bite marks. “Fuck.” he breathed against my skin, the roughness of his lips and the warmth of his breath tickling the surface as he pressed me into the door even harder. “Do you not feel exactly what you’re doing to me right now, princess?” his hips snapped against me and I rubbed myself against the growing bulge strained at his sweats, my hand lowering and my fingers catching in the waistband. 

He sucked in a ragged breath and bit his lip, a shiver racing through his body when I stepped away from the door and completely against him. With each step I took forward, he inched closer to his bed until the backs of his knees brushed against the thick mattress and when that happened, he sank down to sit on the edge and I lowered myself, settling in his lap, taking his face in my hand as my lips latched onto his all over again and I started to rock myself back and forth over the bulge strained at his sweats until I heard him whimpering even more and I could feel him bucking up into me from below.

His hand slipped up the hem of the little black dress and settled palm down against my throbbing core as he started to rub my lace covered crotch. My head fell back slightly, giving him access to my neck. He took the opportunity to his advantage, pulling me in as close as he could get me, latching onto my skin almost needy when he did it. The whimper that left his mouth and dissolved against my skin sent a shiver racing through me and I rocked myself down harder against the hefty bulge, earning me a needy whine from him as his fingers dug into my hips and he pressed me down harder, took control of the movement of my hips. It sent that dull ache building between my thighs to an almost blind throbbing pain.

 His mouth trailed down my neck and one of his hands raised, the thin strap of the little black dress snapping under the weight of the tug from Maxwell’s fingertips and almost the instant the strap to my dress was no longer an issue, Maxwell was latching onto the neckline with his teeth, tugging it downward, revealing bare breasts. 

He backed away and took several shaky breaths, his eyes roaming slowly and that smirk on his face just before he lowered his head, resting his forehead against the tops of my breasts. I clung to him and gripped his shoulders tighter while baring down against his lap as soon as I felt the way his teeth softly grazed against exposed skin and it had me shivering and whining almost helplessly. 

I wanted his mouth on mine again. I needed him to kiss me. I reached down and tilted his chin, lust hazed brown eyes locking on mine as soon as we locked eyes and when I crashed my mouth against his, he deepened the kiss, bucking himself into me all over again from below. Harder.

One of his hands disappeared up the hem of my dress and I heard the quiet tear of fabric. Lace panties came away torn  in his hand and he growled against my mouth as soon as he felt how wet I was already. 

My hand slipped down, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats all over again and I felt his abdomen tense as he took a deep breath and grabbed hold of my face, pulling my mouth against his all over again, greedily. His left hand lowered, disappearing beneath the dress, thick digits carefully working me open as his thumb struck against my clit, rubbing. “How’s that feel, hm?” the warmth of his breath against my skin as he mumbled against it had me whimpering and rocking myself against his fingers. 

“Mmf.. Ah..” I whimpered as the ache began to intensify and all I could do was keep on meeting the scissoring thrusts of the fingers buried deep inside my dripping pussy and hope that took away some of it. “Feels so.. Fuck!” I cried out as I felt his fingers strike against my spot, sending tension through my body just to try and keep my rapidly approaching orgasm at bay. He chuckled as his mouth found mine again, teeth digging into tender and kiss swollen lips. 

The more I moaned, the deeper inside me his fingers sank, stretching me out, the wet sounds making me both self conscious and almost a feral level of horny. It seemed to be doing the same for him because he growled against my skin as his mouth caught hold of my nipple, teeth latching on, his tongue dragging over the surface slowly until it stood erect, aching at the torture. 

“Max!” the moan that came out of me shattered through the soft silence, echoing, making his mouth turn upwards in a smirk as he continued to lick and suck my tits, bucking himself against me from below while his fingers pumped in and out of my dripping heat. “That’s it, princess. C’mon. You can get louder.” he muttered soft against my skin, raising goosebumps to the surface and making me whine and beg.

The more I whined and begged, the slower he seemed to go until I was shaking with each thrust of his fingers or slow drag of his tongue over my nipples. A glance down at my chest showed hickies littering every strip of skin he’d been able to get his mouth on and I bit my lip just to keep from screaming his name out loud, a needy moan escaping instead. “Maxwell, c’mon. I need you. Now.” I grabbed hold of his face again, my mouth diving down against his as I begged and kept rocking myself over the bulge strained at his sweats and against nimble and fast moving fingers as they fucked into me, striking against my spot and sending shivers dancing through my body.

I tried tugging at the waistband of his sweats again and this time, he obliged, drawing his fingers out of my cunt and lifting me a little, working the sweats down his hips and letting them pool at his feet on the floor of the hotel room. I whined as my eyes settled on his thick length, standing at attention and I swallowed hard. Maxwell pushed up the little black dress over my hips and then  lowered me down, his cock splitting me in two, stretching me out and filling me up. 

“You need me now, hm?” he questioned, his mouth crashing against mine needy, slow and deep. I got the sense that he needed to hear me say it. That he needed to hear me say everything I felt, actually. With a whimper as he started to fuck into me from below, slowly at first, I grabbed his face in my hands, pulling his mouth back against mine all over again, my lips crashing against his in the neediest kiss I could manage. “Feels so good. So good.” I encouraged, my hips rocking back and forth, making him dig his fingertips into my bare ass, squeezing harder with each deep drive into my pussy. 

My head fell back as I rode him faster and he raised a hand, tangling it in my hair, pulling my mouth against his, our teeth scraping and bumping together as his tongue rushed past my parted lips and tangled with mine. My legs circled his waist and the new angle had his hips stammering as he slowed down, pressing hot little kisses and nips against my face and throat, his forehead against mine and our faces so close that whenever he quietly muttered “I’m fucked. I’m absolutely fucked.” and gave a quiet chuckle, his lips brushed against mine and I whimpered, rocking my hips against his shaky thrust and responded quietly, “Why?”

“Because you got to me and that literally never happens. And now I have you and I…” he trailed off and although I wanted to push for him to say more, I got the feeling that it was hard for him. 

To my surprise, after a few gentle biting kisses trailing down the side of my neck and across the tops of my breasts, he raised his head and met my gaze again, capturing my mouth in a deep and needy kiss as he groaned out, “I’ll do whatever I have to to keep from losing you. You have me.” he emphasized his words with an even deeper drive into my dripping cunt, immediately bottoming out and pushing me even closer to an orgasm that I was only barely holding back from having, his hips snapping upward, his cock striking my g-spot over and over as he bottomed out and his hands roamed all over my body gently cupping and squeezing, touching me anywhere he could get his hands on me. 

“Ah fuck! Bianca.”  Maxwell’s growled words echoed off the walls and he pulled me against him tighter, his mouth latching onto mine in a deep and needy, bruising kiss. My lips were aching and swollen now, I could feel it. “Maxwell, please. I’m so close.” I whimpered, tears starting to sting at my eyes because I simply couldn’t hold off anymore.

“C’mon, princess. Use me. Get off.” Maxwell’s head fell back as he continued to slam into me from below, his fingers digging into my asscheeks deeper, squeezing. “Can’t wait to feel you get my cock wet, baby.” his words were a quiet groan against the shell of my ear, his heavy breathing merging with mine as I started to bounce myself up and down on his cock faster. Deeper. He met each bounce eagerly. 

My orgasm shattered through me, leaving me shaky and light-headed but Maxwell kept pumping me up and down on his cock, determined to fuck me right through it and nearly into another one because it all felt so good. Too good. Too much. I almost couldn’t think straight. I latched my lips onto his neck and he groaned quietly, his hips stammering as he slowed down a little and tilted my chin so that i had to look him in the eye, pulling my mouth against his all over again in a lingering and tender kiss as he muttered lazily against my lips that he was getting close and he didn’t want to stop. I gave a helpless and needy whine, nodding my head, begging him not to stop, my pussy still tightly clenched around his cock. “So close, ah.. Fuck. Are you ready, princess?”

“Please?” I begged in a breathy moan, clinging to him as dots danced in front of my eyes and I tried and failed a time or two at actually catching my breath and calming down. I could feel his cock throbbing, the warmth of his seed settling inside, coating me as the excess slowly leaked out. He fell back against the bed and pulled me down on top of him, his arms wrapping around me tight as he buried his nose in the crown of my hair, taking a few long and deep breaths, his cock still buried inside me as we lie there. 

“I don’t want to move.” he mumbled quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Just wanna stay exactly like this.” 

“Me either.” I yawned lazily, my lips pressing against the side of his neck.  I rose up a little to stare down at him and he leaned into my face, his lips feathering against mine as he muttered quietly, “You know I meant all of it… Right?”

I nodded, giving a soft smile as I deepened the kiss. “You don’t say things you don’t mean, remember?” 

He chuckled quietly, pulling me back down against him, his hand smoothing over my back, toying with my hair.

#mjf #maxwell jacob friedman #mjf fanfiction #mjf fanfic #mjf oneshot #mjf imagine #mjf imagines #mjf smut #mjf one shot #//18+ only #// smut tw #// body fluids tw #// unprotected s*x tw

[henrycavell]

homecoming

summary: Syverson has been medically discharged from the army after a suicide attempt. He’d been able to hide his deteriorating mental health for years from the men around him, but now he has to face it head on. Hopefully not alone. 

word count: 1,426

pairing: Syverson x OFC 

*I plan on intentionally not describing the girl much, so that when you’re reading you can think of her however you’d like to!

warnings: smut later on, there will be cursing and mentions of depression, anxiety, there will be suicide attempts and self harm though i am not sure how detailed i will go into that! if things get really detailed, i will make sure to put warnings on those specific chapters.

a/n: I am not looking for constructive criticism on this. It’s been a very long time since I’ve written any fan-fiction, though I’ve been roleplaying nonstop for the last few years, I feel a little nervous posting something that’s entirely just mine. So right now, I’m not looking for any criticism, suggestions, etc. <3 If you enjoy reading though, please like/reblog! 

Also, I’m adding everyone in a tag that replied to my text post about wanting to read my stories... so if you’d prefer to be removed, just let me know! If you’d like to be added, also let me know! <3 

Taglist: @littlefreya​ @mary-ann84​ @wondersofdreaming​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @geralt-of-baevia​ @asylummara​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @promptandpros​ @mansaaay​ @daddys-littlewhitegirl​ @vacant-writings​  @kaatelyyynn​(i’m sorry if i missed anyone, i only tagged anyone who replied to my text post!!) oh & @80scavill​ i’m tagging you because you said you wanted to proofread, but i am just so nervous that im just posting! bahaha

PART 1 | PART 2

Being medically discharged from the military wasn’t something Syverson wanted to talk about, he sure as hell didn’t want to go into detail. He’d barely been able to admit to himself that his depression and anxiety had become so overwhelming that he could barely function. When his men had started noticing, some questioning his well-being and if he was stable enough to be in his position, he thought that had been the most embarrassing thing. He’d been wrong. The most embarrassing and shameful thing had been his suicide attempt, which ultimately led to his discharge.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it, so he didn’t. It was bad enough that he had to think about it constantly. Every time he closed his eyes Sy was brought back to that moment. Blood all over his bunk, smeared along the wall and staining his sheets. As hard as he had tried to convince his peers and superiors that it wasn’t a suicide attempt and rather just an unfortunate mistake, they wouldn’t believe him. And after a full psych evaluation, all hope of saving his career had vanished. Shipped home before he could even argue.

His first few days home had been the hardest, the only little shimmer lighting up his life at the moment being Aika. Sy had been able to bring her home with him and the loyal companion hadn’t left his side for even a second. Seemingly knowing something was wrong with him. But even with his dog giving him all the love and affection she could muster, he still barely left his bed. Tangled up in the sheets, dozing off and on out of sleep except for the very few times that he forced himself up to use the bathroom. Sy hadn’t eaten in what he thought to be at least four days, except for nibbling on a saltine cracker here and there between forcing down some orange juice or shots of whiskey.

Syverson wasn’t proud of the way he was keeping himself, but he didn’t know what to do. He’d been working and serving his country since he graduated high school. Being home with nothing but free time on his hands and a heavy rain cloud hanging over his shoulders, the days were beginning to all blur together. He’d been particularly dreading this morning, however, because he knew the VA was sending over some help, someone to help make sure that he was getting along okay, to make sure he didn’t need anything.

Aika put her paws up on the bed and leaned her head in, grabbing the blanket with her teeth and ripping it off Syverson, pulling it all the way down into the floor. “Okay, okay, I get it, I’m getting up,” Sy groaned, running his hands down his face before pulling himself up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. A shower sounded nice, but before he could really think about whether he had the energy to or not, Syverson was already hearing a knock from downstairs. Craning his head around to look at the alarm clock by his bed, his face fell, realizing it was already well after noon. He thought he had more time...

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

Penelope wasn’t anything more than just a volunteer, a girl in her early twenties that liked to keep herself busy, so for the last few months on the weekends, she’d been donating her time to helping the VA. They’d send her to random retired or discharged veteran’s homes to help with their household chores, or to do their grocery shopping. Sometimes, a lot of them were just lonely and wanted someone to talk to. That was Penelope’s job, to just spend a few hours doing whatever they needed that was within her capability. This seemed to be a special case, though. It was different than all the others. Penelope hadn’t been given very much information on this person, other than their name and a very vague reason as to why they had been discharged. “Don’t ask about what happened,” she’d been warned, told to just leave it to be.

Tapping her knuckles against the door once more, Penelope peered in through the glass pane into the home, seeing that all the lights were off. Stepping back on the porch, Penelope looked out into the drive, seeing a rusted pickup truck and thinking to herself that Syverson had to be home. Just as she turned back around to knock a third time, her fist already raised in the air, she came face to face with the captain.

“Heard ya the first time,” he grunted, before turning in the door way and disappearing back down the hall. Penelope had only gotten a quick glance at him. His hair was short but was starting to grow out, his beard had looked a little unkempt and it seemed he had just rolled out of bed. Letting her hand drop back down by her waist, she froze on the porch, a little taken aback by his greeting. If she could call it that.

Stepping up into the home, Penelope closed the door behind her, just as a large german shepherd came running up to her. Aika panted, her tongue sticking out as she barked excitedly, nudging herself against Penelope’s legs as if telling her to follow the captain into the kitchen. If Aika could speak, she would have told the younger girl that it had been almost a month since the captain had spoken to anyone in person. “Hey there,” Penelope cooed, reaching down to scratch Aika behind her ears before tightening her grip on her purse and heading farther into the home.

“My names Penelope,” she called, just a second before stepping into the kitchen and seeing the man pouring himself a mug of coffee. There was a bit of sunlight coming through the kitchen window, brightening up the dim space just a touch. Most of the sun rays were washing over the man’s back as he fixed his coffee just the way he liked it. The veteran was large, his biceps reminding her of tree trunks, though he did seem to be getting a little soft around the edges. Penelope stood silent for a moment, waiting to see if she’d get anything from the man, but he remained silent, even when he turned around, bringing his mug up to his lips. Syverson didn’t even look at her, instead, snapping his fingers to get Aika to come to his side. His gaze was kept down, fixed on his dog. “I’ll be visiting every weekend, uhm, for as long as you’d like me to.”

“Didn’t want ya’ to begin with, don’t need no help.” The man still didn’t look up as he spoke, instead, his attention still focused on Aika, the dog seemingly being the only thing to bring him comfort.

Penelope was definitely caught off guard. She’d met some rude veterans during her time volunteering, and while this man’s words could’ve definitely been taken that way, Penelope could almost hear the loneliness in his voice. All she’d been told about him was that he’d been battling mental health issues, discharged because of depression, though she hadn’t been given anymore information than that. Letting her shoulders sag, she took a step further into the kitchen, moving towards the fridge as she looked around his kitchen. “I believe you, you look capable.” Penelope tried putting herself in his shoes, a strong man who had climbed through the ranks, spent his whole life serving his country, only to be forced home. To be told he wasn’t fit to serve anymore, that he needed help doing simple tasks. So she tried spinning the narrative as she opened the fridge, a frown making it’s way on to her face as she peered into the empty box. “Think of it as... I’m here to do the things you don’t want to. And it looks like someone doesn’t like grocery shopping,” she tried to tease, “I’ll make a list and-“

Syverson’s footsteps were heavy as he walked away, leaving the kitchen with his cup of coffee without one final word. Watching him disappear down the hall, Penelope heard heavy thuds on the stairs as he headed back up to his room. Letting the door on the fridge shut, Penelope muttered to herself under her breath, “okay...” It seemed like every weekend her job only became harder, she met veterans that were more and more reserved and closed off. But she had no intention of giving up just yet on Syverson.

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fluff #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fanfic #tw depression #tw suicide #homecoming

[snapefiction]

Prompt list ! - Snapefiction

A/N: Hi! As requested I tried to stick a Prompt list together. Even though I´m not sure if I did it right: I hope you like it! 💕

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️ 

Here´s how it works:

I love writing requests! So whenever you have an idea of a special situation you can send it to me through an Ask. But if you want to request something but can't make anything up you can send me some numbers and information from this Prompt list and I will try to figure something out! 😊

Characters I´m writing for:

Severus Snape x Reader, Severus Snape x OC, Severus Snape x ?

Prompt List:

1. I saw a lot of things coming but not you. 2. I have never been in love before. 3. Was it This easy for you to forget me? 4. I am not good at writing letters - I never was. 5. It's lonely at the top. 6. I feel like you're suffocating me. 7. You love the idea of me. 8. Such a beautiful Night to be with you. 9. Erase my Memories / Obliviate me 10. I´m sorry. 11. I will never move on from this. 12. If you only knew how my life feels like without you. 13. You can’t break an Oath. 14. It’s him / It’s her 15. Make me forget. 16. I'm not afraid to lose you, I'm absolutely terrified. 17. Although we never said it to each other, I think we both knew. 18. No thank you. I'll be fine. 19. I´m begging you. 20. Beg for it. 21. Anything for you? - Anything? 22. Please stay , even if it's just for tonight. 23. No, you didn’t, did you? 24. There is something no one is allowed to know. 25. And how do I know? - Because I have changed. 26. So,.. do you trust me now? 27. I trust you so you have to trust me as well. 28. Let me walk you home. 29. I don't think that we should keep doing this. 30. Just for the Nostalgia. 31. I think I’m falling for you. 32. I won't leave you alone. 33. Do you think I haven't tried? 34. But you are obsessed! 35. Please, at least try to love her. 36. End this Pain. 37. That’s against our deal. 38. People can’t just vanish? Can they? 39. You’re joking right? 40. I don't know what you mean. 41. They were kind of mad but it was the right decision. 42. A Butterbeer? You don't even like Butterbeer 43. Don't Make a fool out of me. 44. If you can't trust me, you can't love me. 45. You should start to control your mind. 46. You crossed the limit. 47. Are you insane? 48. I'd never do that to you. 49. You humiliated me in front of everyone I know only to prove your power. 50. Do you finally have enough? 51. You manipulate our Relationship. 52. Stop burning all those bridges I try to build. 53. Are you even capable of loving someone? 54. Where were you? 55. You know which side I'm taking. 56. That's an honorable Thing to do of you. 57. That's what Friends do, right? 58. It’s too late. 59. It's unfair of you to say that. 60. Trust me! - I trusted you all my life and now see where it got me. 61. You are what? 62. You made me do it. 63. You punish me for loving you. 64. Because i missed the world you showed me. 65. I'm scared of my mind. I'm scared that it'll turn me mad. 66. I promise you won't regret it. 67. Is it your first time? 68. I have never been ________ before. 69. Thank you. - What for? - For this. 70. So you made you decision? 71. You poisoned me? 72. __ should get fired for this. 73. Stop it! - Make me. 74. I feel like I am drowning. 75. What if there’s something remaining?

to be continued. last edit 1.15.2021 

Things that aren't mentioned in my prompt list but may be helpful for your request:

- Your Hogwarts House

- What era does it take place in?

- Age of the Characters

- Setting 

- fluff?/ angst? / sad? / smut? / ..?

...

! Things I won't take requests for ! :

- Adult x Minor (as Example: Teacher x Student)

- Characters that aren't listed

- Mental Heath Issues / Illnesses

- Racism, Homophobia, Sexism etc.

- non - con Smut

This list may be continued.

#my writing #snapefiction #prompt list

[sailorstarr-chan4]

I hate being a writer so much. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate that I cannot EVER take a “proper” break. I tell myself, “Okay, I’m burned out, I need to step back and not worry so much on writing. I need to work on my mental health and try to relax,” but noooooo, I am constantly plagued by the urge to write, I feel it as surely as I feel my heart beating, and I hate it so much because I cannot write anything right now. For ten fucking years, I dealt with this shit, but for the last couple of them, it mostly simmered down to barely existing, thanks to fanfiction. Until now. 

I know I should wrap my WIPs and then I’ll feel better. I know that plenty of fic authors bog themselves down with WIPs and they still keep cracking and I shouldn’t feel bad, but here’s the rub: they. still. keep. going!! Meanwhile I’m over here floundering over a handful of oneshots I cannot bring myself to finish. I managed to update my main WIPs this summer, yes, but I have NOTHING planned, nothing plotted out, except vague wisps of ideas. Because I dove into them with a “fuck it, who cares” attitude, but now my brain is convinced that that is not good anymore and I should be ashamed of myself and blah blah blah blahhhhh 

For the past 3 months, every time I try to write, I just agonize some more, over the usual crap but especially the CHARACTERS. It took me 3 years to finally admit that I have not EVER written an Inuyasha fic that was remotely “in-character” except MAYBE in smut (how ironic). My Inuyasha is not canon Inuyasha, or canon “in spirit” Inuyasha. He is too suave, too sweet, too romantic. He is unrecognizable; he is a weird mesh of “fanon” and “canon” Inuyasha. And while that’s all well and fine in my AUs, I’m also guilty of writing him like that in my mostly canon-compliant/post-canon Tied Together collection. After years of claiming I could not “deal” with OOC-ness, I find that that’s all I am capable to producing myself. I can’t stand hypocrites and eating my own words only feeds into my self-loathing I fucking hate this wjhghrsgj And yes, I KNOW that fanfiction/fanon is all about indulging in the alternatives, the what-ifs, the unexplored potential, but my inner demons don’t want to acknowledge that lmao 

On top of alllllll that, I’ve half-convinced myself that most, if not all, of my previously published fics were “forced” by me to please others and not myself. I ... I even half-believe that I never actually LIKED Inuyasha nearly as much as I always acted like I did. Or at the very least, never enough to warrant writing fics for it. I started writing for the fandom because this is a fandom that has given me consistent, enthusiastic feedback and I revel in that. It spoiled me, dare I say deluded me into thinking that I was a hardcore Inuyasha fangirl despite my constant albeit mostly affectionate shit-talking of it. 

Three years ago, I had turned to fanfiction because original writing was too painful; but I guess it was just a bandaid and the proverbial “ripping off” was bound to come sooner or later. >.<

I want to write trash. I want to write crack, smut, fluff, humor, etc, but ever since I started putting in “more effort” into my fics, it’s like its awakened all of my slumbering demons. 

Maybe I’ll eat my words again and end up publishing a 100k fic next month LMAO but right now, that’s not looking remotely possible

#dear readers: I am so sorry #it feels like I have a moment of reprieve where I feel like writing again #only to have it die away within 24 hours because God hates me #my post #personal #fandoms #fanfiction #Inuyasha #Inuyasha fandom #StarlingChild4 #writer issues

[waywardfeathered]

ROLEPLAYING PROFILE MEME: PLEASE REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG!  Feel free to add to any of your answers!  The purpose is to tell your partners about the way you write!  For the multiple-choice ones, BOLD all that apply and, if you want, italicize if it’s a conditional answer!

—BASICS—

NAME: havu (& heli as i’m yet to change my name on the rpc, i use both irl)

ARE YOU OVER 18? Yes (i am 28) / No

IS YOUR MUSE? Yes / No

ARE YOU SELECTIVE ABOUT WHO YOU WRITE WITH ON THIS BLOG? No / Semi / Yes / Highly / Private

IF YOUR MUSE IS CANON, HOW MUCH DO YOU ADHERE TO CANON? Not at all / A little / Somewhat / Mostly / Strictly /

WHAT POST LENGTHS DO YOU WRITE? One Liners / Single-Para / Multi-Para / Novella

WHAT LEVEL OF PLOTS DO YOU WRITE? Unplotted  / Open-Ended Plots / Semi-Plotted / Fully Plotted Epics

HOW QUICKLY DO YOU USUALLY RESPOND TO THREADS? Very Slow / Slow (3-4 Weeks) / Average (1-2 Weeks) / Fast (Less Than One Week) / Very Fast (Less Than Three Days) / honestly it varies so much & depends on how busy i am & what my mental health is any given day!

WHAT TYPES OF THEMES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) Fluff / Angst / Smut / Action / Tragedy / Domestic / Family / Conversational / Hurt-Comfort / Slice of life / hard to say/kind of prefer storylines with a combo of all of the genres.

WHAT GENRES DO YOU LIKE? (feel free to add!) High Fantasy / Supernatural (lol) / Science Fiction / Historical / Horror  / Comedy / Romance / Drama / Action (i like it i’m just awful at writing it lol) / Adventure / Espionage / Everything

ARE THERE ANY THEMES YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WRITING ON YOUR BLOG? No / Yes (hard to say from the top of my head but i’m capable of saying no if something makes me uncomfy!)

DO YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS?  HOW DO YOU REQUEST IT TAGGED? No / Yes, but it triggers me to talk about my triggers so i can’t request tags. joys of anxiety.

—SHIPPING—

WHAT TYPES OF RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic / Platonic / Familial / Sexual

WHAT TYPES OF PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS ARE YOU OPEN TO? Romantic / Platonic / Familial / Sexual (just communicate with me if you want to pre-establish smth? i’m not a mind reader!)

DO YOU HAVE OTPS? No / Yes, but i ship anything that has chemistry!

DO YOU HAVE NOTPS? No / Yes

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION? - Heterosexual / Heteroflexible / Bisexual / Homoflexible / Homosexual / Pansexual / Demisexual / Asexual / Questioning

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S ROMANTIC ORIENTATION? - Heteroromantic / Heteroflexible / Biromantic / Homoflexible / Homoromantic / Panromantic / Demiromantic / Grayromantic / Aromantic / Polyamorous / Questioning

*i use bi and pan interchangeably now after educating myself a bit on the origins of both terms, but what i mean is: gender doesn’t matter to him, re: attraction. **i can’t believe i had to delete “sapiosexual” from the list, that’s not a real sexual orientation, that’s just some really ableist shit. like don’t @ me, just google why it’s ableist, i’m not up for this debate.

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WRITING SMUT? No / Selectively / Yes

HOW EARLY IN A RELATIONSHIP DO YOU SHIP ROMANTICALLY? Autoship / During Plotting / After A Couple IC Interactions / Several IC Interactions / Slow Burn / Depends on partner & muse

ARE YOU/YOUR MUSE OPEN TO TOXIC SHIPS? No / Selectively / Yes (not abusive ships, but toxic? hekk yes)

ARE YOU/YOUR MUSE OPEN TO PROBLEMATIC SHIPS? (canon history, age difference, complicated, etc.) No / Selectively / Yes (what the fuck does this even mean? i’m open to ships with consenting adults that are not incest. “problematic” is a vague phrasing.)

ARE YOU/YOUR MUSE OPEN TO POLYAMSHIPPING? No / Selectively / Yes

ARE YOU AN EXCLUSIVE SHIPPER? No / Sometimes / Yes

DOES CRACK SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? No / Sometimes / Yes

DOES CROSSOVER SHIPPING EVER HAPPEN? No / Yes / Depends

tagged by: stolen from the dash! ​ tagging: steal it and tag me if you like!

#; outofgrace #(jfc some of these questions)