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shamelessler · 7 months

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Squidbob Headcanons

this is pre-established dating

- they pass notes back and forth with customer orders + little notes for each other during work

- spongebob is extremely interested in squidwards suction cups and plays with them when he's bored

- they have sleepovers every friday night where they give each other makeovers while watching Gilmore Girls

- squidward can't stand it when spongebob tries to clothes shop without him because he always comes home with something outragious for him to wear

- at every party they sneak off to make out😐

- spongebob constantly brags about squidward

- squidward is the little spoon

- they make each other lunches for work, squidward is a terrible chef but spongebob is so very supportive😭💞

- spongebob gets very lovey dovey around christmas and walks around the house singing all i want for christmas you

- "please? ill be your best friend"

- squidward reads over spongebob's papers for college and helps him with grammar

- for their first date they went to an art convention that was wholely squidwards idea, but spongebob found an exibit on bubbles that they both adored

- they pretend to be santa for each other and on christmas morning they say stuff like "gee i wonder what santa brought for you this year" and give each other looks

- both of them don't especially enjoy PDA at work, but sometimes during squidwards breaks spongebob bursts in and lets all his adoration out

- this headcanon is mostly for me, but i hc that spongebob has SA trauma so they both made lots of boundaries about the certain subject

- squidward secretly goes crazy for sharing self care products with spongebob. he wants to smell like him

- good segway into a hc ive been mulling over for a while, but spongebob would naturally smell like childhood toys, ukulele strings, and a hint of book smell

- squidward naturally smells...warm? like yk how heat gives off a smell. and also a weirdly specific brand of laundry detergent, and cat paws

- spongebob is usually the one to motivate and affirm while squidward is the one to reason with and de-escalate

- the sound of squidwards voice immediately calms spongebob, its like he curls up in the vibrations of it and the stress literally melts away

- squidward is the type to randomly slip a compliment into the conversation like it meams nothing, and then smiles to himself when spongebob malfunctions

- flustering spongebob is a difficult task, squidward knows from experience that spongebob is hard to surprise or catch off guard

- banter between the two is something that squidward values greatly, he loves being able to bounce witty quips and flirts off of spongebob and to have the sponge retaliate and match his energy

- squidwards easily knocked off of his high horse by spongebob, but spongebob always catches him (shut up i know thats stupid but its cute)

- one night after spongebob had eluded his mind long after he'd said goodbye, squidward created a song about him. he stayed up at an ungodly hour and then in the morning he just stared at the pages and pages of lyrics.

he rememebered thinking one thing: fuck. he was in love

#squidbob #spongebob headcanons #spongebob squarepants #squidbob headcanons #weewooweewoo #pre established relationship

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heynhay · 10 months

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woe! klance be upon ye

#feeling mild abt all of these except the first one. i like my poses on that one. hrm yes.#klance #voltron #vld #art #my art #first one tho can be read as pre slash shameless yearning or as established relationship silliness #idk haha... someone should like...write about it or something... lolz........ no im kidding...hahahahaha.......#blinks slowly

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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bring him home

rating: t ♥️ cw: Eddie in the Upside Down,; Steve on what he thinks is a retrieval mission for his body (it's not); Eddie Munson Lives; Kas!Eddie (ish) ♥️ tags: established relationship, secret pre-S4 relationship, post-S4, presumed dead (Eddie), mourning and heartbreak (Steve), happy ending (because Eddie is alive, ofc), soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-four: Love is the only thing we can take with us (@thefreakandthehair)

oh hey look, another day I didn't intend to write at all ♥️ but then @pearynice was intrigued by a stray half-baked idea and I struggle to not at least try to provide content in such instances ♥️

He’s only thought it since, since, but he’s actually kind of grateful no one knew. That no one could even have guessed. They’re on eggshells around him enough as it is, thinking it’s the loss, finally, that he couldn’t walk them back from, couldn’t recover them allfrom safe if not wholly sound. They think he’s dealing with survivor’s guilt or just the general blow of a failure so immense, maybe long overdue: and that’s probably part of it.

But only because it’s part of the bigger thing. The real loss.

They would have been together nearly ten fucking months, y’know; the better part of a whole goddamn year since that day at the mall, eyes catching and something just…clicking. Like the barest whisper breathing this could be something into the universe for them to catch if they wanted, and for all that’s still good in the world they both wanted, beyond any kind of logic they both fucking reached.

And Steve knows he’s worrying everyone, knows Joyce cooks for him because she’s sacred for him, knows Claudia bakes for the very same reason; he knows Robin’s gone back to biting her nails over him, and he hates that, he hates it but, like: Steve feels like he left his soul in that hellscape with the man he’d wrapped up in it; knows he left his heart there, because he gave it to that same man ages ago and never ever considered taking it back—and he’s kind of just a, a shell, now, and it’s good that they all think Steve’s just fucked up over the lost, over-inflated savior complex, Rob had muttered more than once and sure, fine—let them think that’s all it is.

It means he can plan without interference.

It means he can drive to the last oozing rift in the world with axes he found in the garage, a crowbar he grabbed at The War Zone—which he knows because he found a receipt, not because he can remember going, driving, paying; he fucking can’t—a fucking tire lift that he things is better suited to trucks than his Beemer but that’s why he needs it: he need to rip open the earth beneath his feet because maybe his heart died down there with the boy he loves in ways he didn’t know he could, not until he found those reserves of feeling inside him well up for the fact of him and maybe it’s too later for his heart, and maybe his soul’s locked in as a funeral shroud but godadmn it all—

Steve needs to bring Eddie’s body home.

Dropping through he fissure in the ground is second nature, like something calling him through the break and that feel right, because the Upside Down for what it is alone is somewhere Steve never wants to be, never wants to touch: but what it holds now what it stole from him and claimed and kept: Steve wants that back beside him, it doesn’t matter how. Cold, torn, broken, gone—Steve’s already those things himself. Now he’s just a raw nerve, but if that nerve could go numb, could freeze for so much pain, so much abuse and hurt. He feels more for the knowledge of how much things should destroy him; he thinks his body is more of an echo chamber, a void that moves but isn’t…there anymore.

Is here, because he left the best of him, the whole of him here, and he—it creaks in his knees when he hits the ground on the other side, shoots up his spine from the bones of him on contact; it should hurt, it should hurt but he can’t feel so much, and he needs to get his bearings, needs to orient, needs to figure where he is and the quickest way to Forest Hills, to where Eddie—

He can’t feel shit when he’s got a purpose, here: the first he’s had in weeks.

He moves to stand, gets to his feet at—

It’s unexpected, how much he feels the impact that knocks him back down, the weight that pushes him to the ground again and covers him, snarls at him, breathes hot and violent against his jaw, against his neck, and Steve—

Steve’ll die here, that’s clear from the hiss above him, the way he’s pinned like prey, like a meal, and the only thought he really has, in all honesty, is he’ll die here.

But he already died here, so it just feels kinda anticlimactic.

The panting against him keeps up, but it…it doesn’t go anywhere, it doesn’t become other, or more—there’s no teeth, no clawing or biting or ripping him apart, draining him dry. He doesn’t think he was afraid for any of it, exactly; his heart’s pounding but it feels distant, other and something far from him, disconnected: not a part of his shell-self, so he thinks that’s just ingrained, just an automatic response to a demo-something, probably, sizing up its meal but like, it’s not doing anything and Steve, Steve doesn’t…he’s not invested, exactly, he doesn’t even think he cares, but—

He squints his eyes open the barest crack where he’d instinctively squeezed them shut and he looks, expects the toothy petals, or even a veiny body; he looks and—

“Eddie?”

Oh, good. Heart, soul: may as well add losing his fucking mind to this place, too, third time’s a goddamn charm.

Because it’s not Eddie, it can’t be…it can’t be Eddie, and—

Not-Eddie leans into him, presses onto him full-bodied, hips to chest, thighs spread to hold him down like he’s going anywhere because, because…

Steve feels that. He feels the pressure, he feels pain where this body drags against scrapes in Steve’s skin, he feels his heart pounding, Jesus fucking Christ, that fucking hurts, but he looks at the face that’s looming over him, tipped to the side like it’s asking a question, like it’s considering Steve below, and it: the bones are sharper, the skin more pale, more drawn up tight and pulled—the eyes are red, bright like when the lighting cuts the sky, here, but everything else…

“Eddie, oh god,” Steve doesn’t want to question it, Steve doesn’t want to keep his mind if the alternative is moments with some version of Eddie whose breath he can feel again, it’s, he’s;

“Eds,” he chokes, and Eddie’s got him wholly pinned down, he can’t reach for Eddie’s face to cup it, to cradle it, so he lets his breath catch, his lungs hitch, lets the tears burn on their way from his eyes in streams as he twitches his fingers, stretches the tips to brush Eddie’s palm where he holds Steve down and—

Eddie stills, and his eyes narrow, and…

And if Steve has to die here, again: let it be at Eddie’s hands. Let it be maybe for Eddie’s…benefit, he’s wellbeing, however he survives here. Let it be for Eddie.

Always for Eddie.

But then Eddie: Eddie doesn’t let him up, still lean into Steve from the middle, but—he buries his head at Steve’s neck, and breathes in so deep, Steve gets to close his eyes and soak in the feeling of his chest rising into Steve’s own: strong.

Real.

“Known,” Eddie murmurs, shakes his head like he’s trying to shoo a fly, but then a shiver trembles through the whole of him, Steve can trace its trajectory where Eddie’s held against him, and then Eddie growls—it’s not a wholly new sound but it’s deeper, more animal in it than Steve’s ever heard and then he bites out through bared teeth: “Known.”

Then he draws back from Steve’s neck, studies him shrewdly, a little hesitant, like he’s unsure of whatever’s happening to him, in him: then he nods, chews at his lower lip in a painfully familiar move before his hands leave Steve’s wrists and he’s—

“Known.”

He’s tracing Steve’s cheekbones, the line of his jaw; he’s running his nose against the slope of Steve’s, he’s…it’s like he’s tracing him, and he does it so gentle, he almost like he anticipates it, he’s—

“Known,” and Eddie’s fucking…it’s not a growl this time but somehow whatever it is, is deeper, stronger, and he mouths at Steve’s neck again but instead of breathing him in, he’s sucking at the lines of his arteries down the sides, up and down, and then he follows the blood to the sounds, groans at a pitch Steve’s never heard before but it’s still, it’s sill Eddie, and—

“Hurt?” Eddie mouths at his chest through the layers of his clothes, sounds mournful, stills as he considers something, intent with it before his head pops up, those red eyes so wide and aching as his hands tap against Steve’s arms, frantic and—

Oh.

Oh; they’re tapping out Steve’s heartbeats to every racing clench-give echoing through his ribs and Eddie moans, almost wails, then—

“Hurt,” and he looks frantic, his eyes wild, and his mouth dropped open, bereft and seeking and oh, oh: Eddie thinks his heart’s pounding because he’s hurt, because he’s in pain and kinda, a little bit but not like that and—

“No,” Steve’s quick to try and soothe, even if his voice is barely a rasp; “no, no,” and his wrists are free to he reaches, covers Eddie’s hands and links their fingers together, feels something in him reanimate, come straight back into being just for that touch, and that it’s warm:

“Happy,” Steve gasps, and squeezes Eddie’s hands with force, with feeling; “happy, to see you,” and he closes his eyes in something like relief when Eddie’s mouth stills against his chest again; sighs when Eddie nuzzles there, like he always did, like he belongs because he always belongs.

“So fucking happy,” Steve breathes, and he feels weightless; wonders if he died. If he hit the ground and snapped his neck. If the impact was a monster and not the love of his life, somehow saved from ruin just to save Steve back in kind.

“Mine,” Eddie whispers, a little bit of a hiss for the feeling in it, the intensity sewn in as he mouths around the beat of Steve’s blood: that’s what he means. That’s his, that and everything it powers, everything it lends life.

His.

He pulls back, and Steve bites back a whimper for the loss before Eddie’s eyes find his and he looks…he looks lost, then, grasping, in need as he almost begs, like the answer is the end of all things:

“Mine?”

He lifts one of their joined hands—he doesn’t disentangle them, and fuck if Steve’s ever letting go—but he lifts them to Steve’s chest and holds there, presses down and looks pointedly at the way his palm covers Steve’s heart, looks up in askance, up and down, there and back over and again, more desperate every time and Steve tightens his fingers around Eddie’s and nods, just nods because his voice is gone, his throat’s too tight, he’s—

But Eddie sees it. Eddie understands because Eddie…

Eddie always understands what Steve can’t say.

“Mine,” he exhales like it’s the answer to the universe, like it’s proof of god and the devil, like it’s more than air to breathe and Steve’s…

Steve doesn’t even know what he is. Except: he’s alive.

He died before he left here last time, and now somehow he’s alive. “Known, s’known,” Eddie mutters, shakes his head slow and pins his gaze on different parts go Steve’s body, touches and looks up to Steve like it serves as confirmation just to meet his gaze, to watch him blink; “know, know,” and Eddie bends again, mouths at his chest and inhales sharp as he rips out, almost feral: “mine,” and then something in him gives, and he falls to Steve’s chest and Steve’s heart skips, the terror in him tangible, but he throws out his hands, lets Eddie’s grasp go to hold Eddie up and Eddie panting, gasping, something has to be wrong—

“St,” Eddie’s voice is sandpaper rough, but…but full somehow and Steve can’t name what it is, save that it makes him feel warm, from the inside, in a way he’d thought was gone forever. It prickles at his eyes and he doesn’t fight the tears:

“Ste,” Eddie coughs a little, and then he looks up, brow furrowed and muscles tight as he locks his eyes on Steve’s and grits out:

“Steve?”

And those eyes: those eyes meet Steve’s now—color in them, that depthless nightshade, drenched in that deep warm chocolate shade: Steve’s breath catches. His heartbeat skips again, but wholly different, and it looks, it feels like a weight’s been lifted; a spell’s been broken. And somehow, somehow even before anything shifted, somehow Eddie, his Eddie, he—

Whatever’s happened, whatever’s been done to him: somehow, deeper than any of it, he kept the love.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s voice shakes and he drops his weight again but this time when he presses against Steve it’s to wrap him close, to hold him a little clumsy, a whole lot desperate, and it…it feels like maybe Steve’s soul where it’s wrapped around Eddie? Like maybe he gets a little bit of it back; like maybe he can inhale and it could mean something again.

Eddie only draws back to tuck his head under Steve’s chin, to dip lower and put his lips to the center of Steve’s chest, to breathe there, like life into the heart of him again and fuck, but he feels it.

He kinda doesn’t need to know anything more, doesn’t need to have any more answers to know whatever this is, whatever Eddie needs: they’ll figure it out. Eddie’s lips are on his chest. His heart’s a mallet against Eddie’s mouth, beats up into the warm rush of his breath: there. Real.

Steve feels it.

also on ao3 🖤

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

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divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #established relationship #kas!eddie #established steddie #pre-S4 relationship #presumed dead #(but obviously NOT)#happy ending #steve mounts a one-man rescue/retrieval mission because he's heartbroken #eddie recognizes the love of his life because in light of everything he HELD ONTO THAT LOVE #steddielovemonth #love is the only thing we can take with us #stranger things

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bratphilia · 6 months

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i would sell my left foot to have my cheeks clapped by neighbor/family friend william afton

you and me both anon. you and me both

in fact, william is obsessed with fucking you at any given opportunity, especially in cases where there's the danger of being caught.

one of these instances is at a dinner party your parents are hosting. when you walk in the door, coming from work, all william steve needs is one look from you to know what you want. what the both of you want, really.

a few minutes pass by and he decides to go after you, making a quick excuse of going to the bathroom. when he opens your door, you're already naked and standing in front of the mirror as you remove your makeup off. he approaches you and greets you with a kiss on your shoulder and on your cheek, embracing you tightly from behind.

"someone missed me," you say with a smile growing on your face.

"missed you so much, doll," he says, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and closing his eyes blissfully.

it doesn't take long before he's on top of you on your bed, cock sheathed deep inside you. one hand is over your mouth to silence your noises and the other is wrapped around your neck, a new kink the two of you recently discovered you enjoy.

he's pounding into you mercilessly, causing the bed to squeak like it will snap any moment now. he tries his best to keep his own grunting to a minimum, but fuck is it hard. especially with the way your pussy clenching around him.

the goal here is to not make you scream when you come, which is hard for you because you're just so receptive to his every touch. so, as a solution, when he feels you getting close, he presses his mouth to yours, enveloping you in a kiss made rough by his movements.

a squeal is muffled in his mouth as you drench his cock in your come. he pulls out and pumps himself until he's ejaculating on your stomach.

#it might not be obvious but this is kinda a sequel to glass window #since yk theres a pre-established relationship here #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #steve raglan #william afton #william afton x reader #asks

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atmilliways · 5 months

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Preview

@steddiemicrofic

written for ‘Pine’ | wc: 508 | rated: T Kind of a time travel fic, kind of a future fic. Established relationship, but also not. With a whiff of mutual pining.

Eddie is cold. He’s so fucking cold, clutched in Henderson’s arms.

And then he isn’t.

He’s hot, dripping sweat instead of blood. Standing, feet aching like he’s been on them all day. Everything is light and heat and noise, the clanging of metal and the sizzle and smell of things cooking, people bustling. He sways on his feet, and—

“You okay, chef?”

It’s too much. Eddie’s eyes roll back, gone before he even falls.

He wakes in a soft bed, softer than he’s ever felt in his entire life. It smells of pine-scented laundry detergent, weed smoke, and comfort.

“Eds?” Steve Harrington leans over him with concern and relief in his eyes, and something warm that chases the last of the cold from Eddie’s blood. He’s clasping Eddie’s hand in both of his.

Something’s off, though. Steve looks . . . older. And damn good in glasses, but since when did Steve Harrington need glasses?

“You passed out at work, babe.”

Babe.

“King Steve holding my hand,” Eddie mumbles. “I’m either dreaming or dead.”

“. . . Oh.” Steve’s grip tightens, reminding Eddie that, oh yeah, he can hear him. Maybe not a dream, if he doesn’t get to have his privacy when thinking out loud. “Okay, so this is happening. Uh. . . . What year do you think it is?”

Eddie frowns. It’s 1986, but. . . . When he looks down at himself there are scars and unfamiliar tattoos and, weirdly, a distinct lack of one nipple on his own chest. Why is he shirtless?

His silence seems answer enough, because Steve nods. “Okay. You told me this was going to happen, just weren’t sure when. The last thing you remember is the Upside Down, right? Bats?”

The bats. Eddie shudders with his entire body.

“Okay,” Steve says again, smoothing his thumbs over the knuckles and palm of Eddie’s hand. “You’re going to be fine, Eds. This is just a blip.” He offers an awkward smile. “But you’re going to go back, and it’s going to really hurt for a while but you’re going to be fine. Just do your stretches, I remember how much you hated that shit but it’s important.”

Eddie can’t wrap his head around what Steve is saying. His voice is small when he asks, “Will I still be able to play?”

The smile firms up, genuine. “Yeah. Not quite as good as before, we all know how important your left nipple was for that, but. You have guitars all over the damn place, really clutters up our apartment.”

“Our?” Eddie croaks.

Another squeeze of his hand. “Yeah. Don’t leave me hanging too long when you get back, okay?”

He wants to ask more, but sleep is tugging at him and the bed is so soft.

He wakes up in a hospital bed, and the Steve Harrington he knows is asleep in the visitor’s chair, hand on the sheet next to Eddie’s.

And Eddie, not wanting to leave him hanging, breathes through the pain as he reaches to hold it.

(also on Ao3)

#steddiemicroficdecember #steddie microfic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #pre relationship steddie #established relationship steddie #eddie munson lives #eddie munson's missing nipple #i had to cut some details for word count but:#future eddie is a chef waiting on his next michelin star #which is why everyone assumed he'd passed out; he was being a stress case about the whole thing #(but he does get it. passing out notwithstanding.)#future steve is a physical therapist #which he originally got into specifically because of eddie bitching about his stretches all the time #(he gives THE best massages and he IS incredibly smug about that fact. completely insufferable.)

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akai-anna · 1 day

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shinichi: *takes a deep breath* shinichi: i lo- anyone who has spent five seconds around shinichi ever: yes, you love ran, we know, you love mōri ran so much, she's the light of your life, you love her so much, you just love ran, we KNOW , you love ran you fucking love ran ok we know, we get it, YOU LOVE MŌRI RAN. WE GET IT.

#detective conan #mouri ran #kudou shinichi #meme strikes #la junk talks #detco posting #shinran #my beloveds #i swear this is the last one for today #but... you have to admit. it's accurate #no one simps like kudou shinichi #(to be fair sasaki shuumei is on a similar level. but shinichi and sasaki simp in different ways sooooooo...)#i love how the whole class is invested in their relationship lmao #and you know they all know how much a simp he is for ran #it's just so obvious. when he looks at her with stars in his eyes and a matching blush #i love how in the first ep/chapter it's already established #how much he loves ran #(and same for ran too... god i fckin love them all right?)#this just fits for him #if detco characters had social media his classmates would make fun of him like this #and i bet ran would be all confused (pre-confession) or (post confession) a blushing mess (but delighted)#Shenanigans in Beika-verse this is a thing i bet and would totally exist #that fic changed my brain chemistry and is an endless source of Happy Hormone Cocktail #anyways happy sunday everyone thank you for coming to my ted talk

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akibean · 1 year

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this was the energy kid was bringing with him to the raid on onigashima by basically forcefully inserting himself into luffy and law's alliance

#not even necessarily romantic just like. he saw 2 people with some kind of pre-established relationship arguing #and was like this is my business now actually #he didnt even have good points to make he just likes arguing #all that aside #extremely funny concept for a kidlawlu meet ugly #one piece #kidlawlu

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reduxulousoctopus · 20 days

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"there didn't seem to be a wolverine/morph fandom before X-Men 97 came out, surely that means there wasn't any romantic subtext in TAS, I'm good to start writing a pre-relationship fic set during 97 before I've finished my rewatch," I said

you know, like an idiot

#I live in a post Whatever It Takes world now #these two absolutely had something going on in TAS #“or maybe it's love you're missing?”#y'all the way that one line permanently altered my brain chemistry #and I'm told I haven't even gotten to THE wolverine/morph episode #like what do you mean there's MORE???#fuck me guess I gotta find a way to rewrite 6700 words to be established relationship instead of pre-relationship #morpherine #wolverine #morph #x men

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deancaspinefest · 3 months

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Something Happening Somewhen

Author: allthismusic | Artist: eggchef

Posting on Wednesday March 27

Dean is 24 years old, and a quiet night at a California dive bar turns into a near death experience turns into a trip through time thanks to the stranger he meets in the bar. When he lands in the bunker twenty years into his future, he finds out who the stranger is — and what his relationship is to Dean’s own older self. Dean’s not sure what he thinks about this at first, but when Cas takes him back to his own time (accompanied by the older Dean, who is determined to make sure that nothing they do in the past screws up their lives in the future), he gets to know the angel, and he gets a glimpse at a future he never would’ve dreamed that he might be able to have.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

In the cool evening air, Dean looks around. He’d left the Impala back parked at the dingy motel where he’d rented a room, but he’s not quite ready to call it a night. He opens his remaining beer and looks down the street to see if there’s another bar nearby that might be worth checking out, but before he can make a decision he hears the door to the bar he has just left open behind him. And he knows, he just /knows/, that it isn’t some other random patron headed home.

“What the hell is this, huh?” Dean asks, “Something about ‘not interested’ you’re not getting?”

And then the guy says his name.

“Dean,” the man begins, and Dean gets it.

“Oh, lemme guess, my dad tell you to check up on me?” Dean asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just begins to walk, knowing the man will follow. He’s a hunter, obviously. Explains the build, and the suit that is only meant to pass muster at a brief glance, like the fake police badge or FBI creds the guy probably carries. Dean should’ve clocked him from the start.

And for some reason John had thought that Dean needed checking up on. That he couldn’t be trusted to go it alone, nevermind the fact that he had finished the hunt his dad had sent him on two whole days ago and had yet to receive any new case coordinates from John.

To Dean’s surprise, he hears a laugh behind him. He stops, and now he does turn to face the guy again.

“No,” the man says. “I’ve lost count of how often I’ve been told I’m bad at following orders, but even if that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t follow your father’s.”

“Oh yeah? Then how do you know my name?” Dean demands.

“You left your wallet on the bar,” the man replies, holding it up. It’s definitely Dean’s: worn black leather, secondhand from his dad, containing a meager number of bills and at least three fake IDs tucked behind a real one— well, real first name, although it gives his surname as Campbell, just in case.

“Oh,” Dean says, wondering for the second time that night if he has misjudged this guy’s intentions. Maybe he’s just a normal businessman trying to do a good deed for the day and return a lost wallet, despite the wallet’s owner being an absolute weird freak toward him. “Thanks.”

The man offers the wallet out to him, almost gently, like he’s proffering a bit of food to a scared, stray dog, and Dean steps forward to take it. “It’s your birthday,” he says, and before Dean can ask, the man explains, “I saw it on your ID. On one of them, anyway.” Dean nods. “Happy birthday,” the guy says. “I should’ve bought you a beer.”

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday March 27)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: allthismusic #artist: eggchef #Pre/Post-Series Time Travel Fic #Established Relationship (and non-Established Relationship)

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 4 months

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In your lights out!au when Eddie wakes up, how did Frank feel? Was he happy? Relieved? Were they a thing before everyone went to sleep, or did they realize they had feelings for each other afterwards?

I hope this hasn't been asked before! I'm just really curious

i'm thinking that before everything went dark, they were getting there. nothing was said aloud, but they were both having Mutual Feelings and Charged Moments that neither could ignore

just because i think it'd interesting if when Eddie wakes up, it's like no time at all passed. he walked Frank home just last "night". but it's been years for Frank - they have to reestablish where they had been with the added facets how time has worn on Frank. among other things

#and they only get like 5-6 months to figure their shit out!#thankfully for the both of them frank is less inclined to keep up pretenses. he becomes a bit of a go-getter #cause he's like 'well its been years. im tired & im dying. fuck it we ball'#its that class The Apocalypse Speeds Up Relationship Development thing #not drastically! it still takes them a good couple of months #this is actually why i had eddie wake up before julie #i wanted him and frank to have Some time together #5-6 months isnt half bad i think. sorta #rambles from the bog #wh lights out au #to make a long story short #feelings were realized but not shared pre-dark #and post-dark they're shared and somewhat established #how established can you be in their situation!#as for how frank felt... A Confusing Tangle Of Emotions #too complicated to write out here really

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yinyuedijun · 2 months

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sorry to be a degenerate but. dan heng somehow being convinced into making a dreampeek call (frowning the whole time because he thinks it's unethical) and he gets dialed into your nasty sex dream about him and later he gets so turned on he has to return to his hotel room to deal with it. and then has to return to the express to deal with you

#if it feels unethical to you then you can imagine a pre-established relationship #i like the spice of not being together in this scenario but i think its funnier if youre a long term couple #'sorry i had that dream its just been so long and my body missed you :('#'it has been two nights.'#yueshuo #nsft

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quick-catton · 2 months

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thinking about felix getting a paper cut or scrape and oliver reflexively darting his tongue out to lick up the blood when he goes to help him put a band–aid on it, like it's second nature

maybe not even realizing he's done it until he finishes with the band–aid and looks up at felix and felix looks like he's just been flashbanged

the collective oh shit moment they both have for different reasons

#thimking thomghts #oliver is a little freak any body fluid of felix's is fair game #and ykw good for him. good for him!#very fun to picture this pre-established relationship bc it's even more awkward #but also established relationship felix would not even be surprised anymore #just like ah. oliver is olivering again.#he just mentally prepares to have oliver unlock a new kink for both of them weekly at this point #yes i just got a paper cut yes that spawned this #quick-catton brainrot #cattonquick #saltburn #oliver quick #felix catton #felix x oliver

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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taste like loving

rating: t ♥️ cw: pre-relationship-to-established relationship, SUCH FLUFF ♥️ tags: idiots in love, pickles, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day seven: Love Is Silently Passing Them A Pickle Because You Know It’s Their Favorite (@steddieasitgoes)

@pearynice and @hbyrde36 suffered my languishing over this more than once; it felt wrong to delete it (which was the original plan) 🥒 (and yes I am well aware this is VERY late for @steddielovemonth but I had this one and one more that I never got to post bc schedules and I still wanted to...not-delete them? so the other one will go up sometime before the 29th's over worldwide) ♥️

The first time he notices is the first time they all hang out after he’s discharged. The first time it feels almost normal. Eddie’s still not mobile enough to leave the couch at most—at least a little variety of the one-room view of his bedroom, at least—but this.

This is awesome. Because there’s no hospital to remind him of the way he’s a mishmash of still-healing incisions that he can ignore if he doesn’t move wrong, or breathe to deep, and when he does breathe to deep and reminds himself it’s for laughing, it’s a raucous and joyful thing and it’s wild in a way he never knew he was missing because—or else, he thinks because—probably there wasn’t a deep pit inside him full of all the horrors they saw and stood against together, and so he’s got this new capacity to be bowled over and filled past the brim with a kind of giddy, buoyant relief that’s unbound in ways he probably didn’t dare to even tease at, despite all his ranting about conformity and letting your fucking freak flag fly: he never could have envisioned a time he could be this unbound. Untethered.

Just…fucking free.

Because these people have seen his literal fucking insides, right? One of them held those insides in his hands, held them where they belonged long enough for him to be sitting here cackling with them, aching for the jostling of his laughter but hell if it’s not worth it, if he pops a stitch or two he won’t even fucking complain because these people saw him inside-out, y’know, and from the first he felt safe with them, with all of him, spoken and unspoken because it really felt, for the first time, like all of the things that mattered to the world at large, that could get you killed in the wrong company: it all felt…dulled; distant, after what he’d seen.

What he’d survived.

So in the now: home, on the couch, with the Buckley and Harrington tag-team feature show splitting his fucking sides and making him feel like he’s drowning in only good things and breathing full for the first time in his fucking life—

That’s when he first notices it happen.

They’re opening the boxes with deli sandwiches from Leeanne’s down off Brooklyn, the big towering fuckers with the toothpicks in the center to hold them together, and Eddie’s fucking ecstatic about the Reuben he’s staring down because real-not-hospital-cafeteria food is still an honest goddamn thrill, but he sees Steve flip open his monstrous looking Club and it’s not even all the way flipped back, the top half of the little foldy-box, when Robin slips her equally-big-ass dill spear next to the one lined up against the bread of Steve’s lunch, flashing an overstretched grin as she plops it down:

“For my Dingus,” she nods to him almost graciously and he chuckles before he picks it up and chomps it almost…almost aggressivelyand yes, okay, fine: Eddie notices because he pays attention to his friends, especially some of his very best friends, but yeah, sure, he probably notices Steve’s biting enough to characterize it because, well.

And look, see: after Steve had set himself up as permanent guardian at his bedside?Eddie might not have had all the reasons for it, all the answers to the whys, but he did have Steve Harrington in the flesh beside him always, kinda day and night, and after that? Eddie had stopped telling himself it was useless, the things he was feeling, all the relentless want in him. It might still be hopeless—just because he knew now that Steve swung that nail bat for both teams didn’t mean he’d want Eddie specifically by default—but there was no harm in feeding the deathless little lust-monster that’d lived in him from sophomore year, and that now, fed by the knowledge that Steve Harrington was beauty and brawn and brains in a way no one never expected because it wasn’t theirs, all on top of a heart of fucking

: the monster was now a full-grown beast that wasn’t…just prone to lust, anymore.

Whatever, though. Eddie could fucking look.

So he noticed the way Robin gave Steve her pickles. The way he playfully accepted and usually leaned into her, grateful and tactile in their shared-brain kind of way.

And if he keeps noticing, what the fuck else is he expected to do? The more he learns, the closer they grow, the stronger and bigger and louder his not-lust creature gets, its stomping like a riot in his pulse save no, that’s actually just his heartbeat for what it is: hopelessly and pathetically and godawfully smitten, kinda recklessly and unrepentantly devoted, and he…

Okay, so in the beginning, Eddie knows it’s a long shot. He knows what he was doing, but it’s easy to play off as something…less. Something just playful, instead of playful-and. He already sits next to Steve when they’re all together, on a floor or a sofa or in a booth: he’s expected there. That is his place. One side him, one side Robin.

Robin even takes across-from-Steve when there aren’t enough spaces. Eddie has somehow…made the cut.

He isn’t throwing a fucking party inside his ribs about it or anything, but.

(Yeah, he is.)

But it starts small, and sorta-almost-casual: when he pops his pickle on Steve’s plate the first time. And Steve blinks at him, tilts his head in that way Eddie associates with softness, with safety, with something so adorably protective, cute and yet let herbal, on alert while breathing slow: and there’s something irresistible in the dichotomy of it that has Eddie’s pulse ramping-up by instinct at just the little gesture, the little tip of the chin and then Steve’s grinning, slow but so big, and at him, and, okay. Okay, yes, fine.

Eddie may or may not be playing this like one of those fucking birds that brings pebbles to court their intended, that drops shining little bits and bobs of nothing special that mean everything special as they try to convince their mate they’re a good bet. It may or may not be a thing he should be at least a little embarrassed of, whatever.

The way Steve chomps with fucking gusto on that pickle though: the way he grins as he chews and keeps his eyes locked on Eddie’s the whole goddamn time?

Eddie’s not gonna be embarrassed of jack shit, if he gets that in exchange.

He’s also sure as shit not going to stop, when he gets that in exchange.

He tries to up his game as the gesture extends, expands: he does his best to make it clear that he fucking loves his beloved briny cucumbers, that the way he saves them and gifts them to Steve isn’t just mimicry of his platonic soulmate; that it’s deliberate and intentional and he’s willingly and willfully forgoing something he loves for something he loves—yeah, yeah he’s ready to say that, at least in his head, because the days turn to weeks turn to months and there’s no fucking denying it anymore—so very much more, and he just…wants to make sure Steve notices. Knows it and, like, whether he decides to act on it or not, Eddie just wants him to know that a choice was there to make, right? Like, he doesn’t want it to go unnoticed.

It’s only once Steve sucks half a spear through his lips, hollows his mouth wholly unnecessarily and positively sinfully, and puckers around the pickle with wide pleading but teasing, goddamn teasing eyes trained on Eddie expectantly with the bare half sticking out his mouth, an invitation from where he sits next to Eddie at the table: it’s only then that Eddie thinks maybe there was hope after all.

He bites the loose half clear just shy of brushing Steve’s lips because he’ll be damned if their first kiss—if this is where it’s headed, if this is really possible and a thing—he’ll be fucking damned if he kisses Steve Harrington for the first time over a fucking vegetable.

Given the way Steve’s lips ultimately close around a pout all on their own: Eddie thinks…yeah. Yeah, that’s where they’re headed.

Their first kiss is very much not-pickle-flavored, but they laugh about the almost of it, once they settle comfortably into a version of ‘we’ that’s not entirely unlike the one they had before; this one just says the love part out loud. Which honestly kind of highlights how much it was there, just unspoken, almost the whole goddamn time. Which is wild.

Then of course it grows. There’s always a jar of pickles on their shopping list, because there’s always a need when the last one’s always empty. Sometimes because he wanted something to eat in the middle of the night. Sometimes because he feeds a slice to Steve Lady and the Tramp style, and does lick the taste from him after, now, not because it isn’t momentous; kissing Steve. But more because it’s…it’s going to be momentous again, whenever he wants.

For, like, ever.

Though it’s carrying on in that fashion that kinda leads in to, about a year-and-change and going strong, Eddie getting his mind goddamn blown.

It starts, mostly, with Eddie thinking—mistakenly—that his boyfriend’s not gonna be late for dinner and honestly, Eddie just doesn’t want the spear to get all warm and floppy so he figures he’ll quick eat the ones he set out, cannot let a delicious pickle go to waste, and he’ll get a fresh one for the plates when Steve gets in, no problem, he’ll just—

He’s maybe almost fucking fellating the pickle when Steve clears his throat unexpectedly from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Am I interrupting?” the arch of his brow is enviable, and the giddy delight in his tone is delectable, and Eddie wants him to come over and kiss the fucking blush he feels just lightly heat his cheeks as he tries to decide what to do because…

Eddie’s never not given his pickle to Steve, or not shared his pickle with Steve, in Steve’s presence, okay? It’s just…that’s for Steve.

And Steve probably wouldn’t be grossed out with Eddie’s slobber all over it, but, like, he deserves better by default any—

Steve’s next to him before he fully notices him crossing the distance, and he’s nudging Eddie’s hand with just a finger, pressing the pickle past his lips, slow enough to chew but steady with the pressure, and hell if it’s not erotic as fuck.

Steve goddamn Harrington.

And he smirks when Eddie swallows with a gulp, leans to kiss him and comments kind of idly:

“That was hot, babe.”

Eddie huffs, and then looks at the pickle-less plates and remembers.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart, I’d have kept it for you, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d be—“

“Eds, relax,” Steve laughs, unbothered; “you don’t have to save me the pickle. I buy you whole jars.”

Eddie frowns a little, because that wording sound…off. He’s not quite sure why, until Steve picks up on his confusion, the grit caught in the works that he can’t pick out, because Steve always notices; and Steve always finds the catch to smooth it clean.

He’s amazing that way.

“They’re your favorites,” he goes and grabs the jar in question from the fridge, pops the lid and meticulously catches the drip on the glass lip before offering it to Eddie with a smile so warm Eddie can feel it in his knees, because it fucking makes them melty and shit even now; he prays it’ll never stop making them melty and shit, honestly, but—

“I never even really liked them, until you.”

And that’s the part that catches Eddie up entirely, almost chokes him on the end of his hand-fed pickle feast.

“What,” he pauses, clears his throat; “what d’ya mean?”

“Robin fucking hates them,” Steve shrugs, still smiling that knee-targeting smile; “so she always pawned them off on me, and I didn’t have any strong feelings either way, but then,” he reaches, traces Eddie’s lips and gathering any stray juice before sucking his thumb between his lips to clean it off. Eddie almost fucking feels his pupils dilate.

“You know I wanted it to mean something from the beginning,” Steve says simply, because Eddie did know; “and then when I found out it wasn’t just, like, convenient, but you liked them so much yourself, then it felt,” and then Steve’s biting his lip, which is that knife’s edge between adorable and hot-hot-sex that regularly threatens to explode Eddie goddamn brain, but than he’s smiling again, a little softer, a lot more fond:

“It felt like they meant you liked me,” Steve ducks his head solely to glance through his lashes, a little bashful even still; “it felt like it maybe meant you, you know, maybe, like maybe you loved me?”

And Eddie can’t handle the question mark there, dives in and kisses Steve sound and sure and licks his way in to rub away that bit of punctuation that could ever possibly cast any doubt on Eddie’s feelings at basically any point they’ve shared fucking air.

“It tastes like that, now.”

Eddie cocks his head a little.

“What tastes like what, baby?”

Steve leans and licks into Eddie mouth again, but this time it’s got direction, like he’s seeking something, but then just as quick he pulls back, though not far, and looks up at Eddie with a little extra curl to his lips as he murmurs between them:

“I fucking adore pickles, now. Because they kinda taste like you loving me.”

And Jesus H., this man is gonna kill him.

And Eddie—who can do nothing less than capture Steve’s lips again and let him taste this particular flavor of loving as long and as deep as he wants—Eddie kinda thinks that’ll be a fucking glorious way to go.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #pre relationship #established relationship #established steddie #domestic fluff #idiots in love #slice of life #pickles as a metaphor #pickles ALSO as a phallic menace #can you flirt using a pickle? YMMV #lady-and-the-tramp'ing a pickle is romantic (probably)#criminal levels of softness #steddielovemonth #love is silently passing them a pickle because you know it’s their favorite #love is just a four-letter word #stranger things

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1pcii · 5 months

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Scott pilgrim x one piece au where Luffy fights all of shank's evil ex's to claim the title of "pirate king' you will always be famous to me <333

#Funniest part of him functioning as Scott though is the fact he has no relationship drama of his own. He is happily married to zoro #But has to deal w his parental figures sucking and fucking escapades across the grand line. Rip #Psii.txt #1pc #Opla #monkey d. luffy #Zolu #Mentioned atleast #I love that aspect of my version of this au. Pre-established happy and healthy background zolu ftw. Always.#Text

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profoundbondfanfic · 7 months

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heard from your mother (she don't recognize you)

heard from your mother (she don’t recognize you) by rupertgayes (@rupertgayes) Rating: Mature Word Count: 538k

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things: Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; he has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; he keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who must be as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is. For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

Are you in the mood to experience the whole story developing a bit differently right from the start?

Then here you go!

On one hand there is Dean, still having a hard time handling his brother leaving for college years ago and trying to somehow manage by doing his due diligence as a hunter and following his father’s demands to the letter. Somewhere along the way, however, he starts to constantly cross paths with a man who remembers nothing from his life apart from his name and a strong urge to hunt monsters. At first Dean has no idea what to make of this guy who calls himself Cas, but over time their connection and relationship grows into something very personal as everything around them unravels.

If you ever wanted to know what would happen if you were to throw Cas into pre canon and early season SPN, this series certainly doesn’t hesitate to show you just that! Cas has no clue where he is coming from, who he even is deep down, and yet he gives it his everything to use his abilities to save as many people as possible.

And Dean, bless him, simply can’t help but be drawn to all of that (because how could he not?), no matter how hard he fights it. Since at the end of the day he is still Dean Winchester who’s simply unable to resist a blue-eyed weirdo of a guy who could very well be an actual honest-to-God angel or whatever (not that something like that exists, right?? RIGHT????) by the way he is acting and showing off his strange powers and all that. Poor Dean is just helpless and it’s the greatest fun to see him sinking deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole!

But it’s also intriguing to watch everything unfold in a slightly different manner, with some crucial details changed, and the mystery of Cas’ past, of his true being, is wonderfully depicted as they gather more and more breadcrumbs over time. I mean, technically we all know the answer to the puzzle that is Cas, contrary to the characters, and yet (or maybe especially because of it) you find yourself ridiculously invested.

And yes, this series is a big boy, I’ll give it that, but I promise you it’s worth it and you will barely feel time flying by as you dive into this alternate and yet so very familiar version of events which are going to leave you on the edge of your seat!

So please, have fun 😁

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