#notgonnatag

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Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts Ricky Potts

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

I WRITE TOO MUCH. I PROCRASTI-WRITE.

I WRITE TOO MUCH. I PROCRASTI-WRITE. BECAUSE I CAN'T WRITE WHAT I SHOULD WRITE, AND I WRITE THIS KIND OF ONESHOTS INSTEAD. A REALLY CLICHE PLOT FOLLOWS:

"-and this jersey sucks too!" Dean groaned, into the phone, not even coming close to the end of his rant about the 'NJ Hunters', his new team. True, Benny - Dean's college friend - was captain here, and a few of his old friends were here too, but he'd gotten completely accustomed to being a one of the 'Kansas Eleven'. As Sam had told him over the phone, 'NJ Hunters' were kind of the best college level baseball team - the little bastard was clearly only trying to make Dean better, but okay - yet he couldn't help but feel weird here.

John Winchester, even when dead, could make Dean's life terrible. His 'death wish' as Dean liked to call it, had been to see his son attend the New Jersey University. More like, play for the NJ Hunters. No, it couldn't have been Kansas, or Texas, or Missouri. It had to be New Jersey. But Dean didn't want the ghost of that man angry at him.

Charlie replied with something about how she thought their jerseys were the cutest in the League. Of course she'd say something like that.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me? They're green! We look like stupid interns at an environmental law agency! And the names are written in freaking red! My highschool jersey was better than this!" As he spoke, he paced about the room, looking at himself in every mirror around the dressing room. "Plus, it makes my ass look fat."

Charlie laughed, and Dean would've went on about how he couldn't get his lucky jersey number because someone already had it, and had been in the team longer and given first preference, but something interrupted him. It sounded like the shuffling of feet. Four hours before the match started, Dean was surprised to see anyone there. His new team was practising in the arena, and not everyone was allowed in. Security was kind of a priority. He turned on his heel, to examine the new person standing in the doorway.

As his eyes fell on the man, he felt them linger without warning. He traced his eyes up to the his face; a squarish jaw, with a-day-old stubble sprinkled along the chin which could've been carefully elaborate, or messily unkempt, with broody deep-set blue eyes and a hint of a smirk. His gaze fell back onto the man's person, as tall as Dean, and at the black Henley hugging his lean torso and biceps; those looked like a lot of time at gym. He opened his mouth to say something witty, but was interrupted by the intruder.

"Your ass looks quite flattering in those." He spoke quietly; and Dean was speechless. Not only was the man's voice the deepest baritone Dean had ever heard, but his words, and the hint of a foreign accent, edging at the S's, had Dean stumped. The man added, in his heavenly rich voice; volatile and striking. "If you don't mind me saying."

Dean was shaken out of his reverie instantly. He squinted his eyes into a disapproving scowl. "What do you think you're doing here?" He hissed.

The man, stuck to his spot, gestured with his chin at Dean's phone, ignoring Dean's question completely. "You didn't end the call."

Dean glared at the strange man, as he muttered, "I'll get back to you, Charlie." He heard a chuckle, and a, "Go get a home run, Green!" back, as he hung up, and thrust his cellphone into his back pocket. He looked at the man again, pointedly, and repeated. "So, what are you doing here?"

"My team plays here, today." He repeated, in the same unaffected tone as before.

"You're a Snow Angel?" Dean smirked, pleased at himself for paying attention to Sam's personal pep talk before, on how to irk up the opponents.

"It's Shore Seraphs, and I'd pay more attention to us if we were you. We thrashed your team at the last encounter, though you were probably not there, Green." He replied, and Dean raised his eyebrows, warily.

"So, you've been listening in?" He didn't like hearing his team did bad, though it wasn't exactly his team just yet.

He shook his head. "No."

"How would you call me that then-" Dean paused mid sentence; his meaningful smirk betraying the response he was about to deliver. He started afresh. "Well, for the last time, what are you doing outside our dressing room?"

"I was unaware that it was prohibited." He even proceeded to shrug his shoulders, his head tilting slightly to one side. "If it's trespassing, I'll leave."

"Okay, big-words, lemme make this easier for you." Dean frowned slightly. "Were you here for a little footsie before football?" The latter's expression of confusion was genuine. Dean ran a hand through his hair, in exasperation. "Did you, you know, come here to meet with one of my teammates?" The word was alien on Dean's tongue. It'd always been 'guys' or 'brothers' in Texas. He wasn't gonna call people he hardly remembered names of, 'his hunters'.

"No." He replied, simply, with almost a blank face. "I don't want to 'meet' with any of your 'teammates' for whatever reason." He used air quotes in the most ridiculous manner. Dean could've chuckled.

"Well, then, did you come here to listen in to a few game secrets of our team?" Dean frowned deeper.

"No." He didn't even look offended; more taken aback. "That's not fair play. And I knew your team wasn't here."

"Okay," Dean rolled his eyes once more. "Did you want an autograph then?" He flexed, and smiled flirtatiously.

"You?" He blinked. He extended his hand to Dean. "Oh, you're different than I'd imagined, Kane."

Dean glared in return, not comprehending if his deadpan was serious or joking. "I'm not Kane, obviously. Look, normal-sized hair and beard."

"Then I wouldn't be looking for your autograph." He had the courtesy to smile, but added the snide comment nonetheless.

"Why don't you just come forward and say it? What are you doing in our dressing room?"

He contemplated it for a moment, and then replied in an exceedingly plain tone. "I came here for the hamburgers."

Dean's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"Hamburgers." He repeated. He turned halfways, and jutted his chin out towards the cafeteria. "Hamburgers." He repeated again, affirmatively.

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"Of course." The frown was back. "Your cafeteria has better hamburgers, and I like hamburgers."

Dean didn't even have it in himself to roll his eyes. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"I can prove it." He smiled, all of a sudden, his entire face lighting up as his eyes crinkled into a surprisingly warm expression. Dean felt a want to mirror it, but kept it reined in. "We can have a hamburger here and then one at the cafeteria outside my dressing room. You'll understand for yourself." As if offended lightly by Dean's bland look, he added. "I'll pay."

"They're free, smartass." Dean replied unthinkingly. He later realised, that he was here for the first time and had no idea if they were free or not. He hoped his little trivia would hold true, because he'd spoken it with much conviction, and it would make him look foolish if the man called his bluff.

"They're not free on the other side." He said, singularly, looking dissatisfied.

"Well, it's our home ground." Dean beamed, proud of himself now.

His face darkened. "The pitch won't react the same way." He spoke - they were supposed to be parting words - and turned on his heel.

Dean, stumped at the abrupt end to the conversation, trailed after him, thoughtlessly. "So, you really only came here for the hamburgers, huh?"

"How would lying to you help me?" The frown was deeply set now.

"Well, okay, I take it back." Dean defended. "So, the date offer still stands?" It was supposed to be a joke, but the latter stared at him seriously, turning completely

"I never expressed romantic interest in you."

"And by date, what I meant was, me accompanying you on your hamburger foot-safari?" Dean replied, disgruntled. In his own defense, he quickly added. "Because, in any case, I don't play for the other side."

"You're not interested in guys?" His eyes were questioning.

"Not really." Dean smiled blandly, through the lie. Though it's college, and I'm experimenting, and I swing both ways considering the fact that I hooked up with a guy yesterday. "But what I meant, was the other side! The opponent team. Your team. Shore Seraphs."

"Okay." He smiled slightly. "I'll go."

"What about your hamburger?" Dean asked, wondering why it felt to a part of his brain to be sort of a last-resort to make conversation with this strange man who stumbled into his dressing room and was now walking out of his sight.

"There's still four hours to go. Screw the cafeteria. Your home ground better have a delivery service." This time, it was definitely a joke. Dean smiled unhesitantly, nodding uncertainly.

"I'm Dean, by the way." Dean called, thoughtlessly.

"Hello, Dean." He replied, in place of his own name. Dean swore under his breath at the stupifying awesomeness of the response, staring for unusually long at the retreating figure with the confident stride and pacing gait.

Maybe he'd be a pitcher - He Walked Like One - and Dean would hit him for a home run. That'd be great.

No, scratch that, that'd be fucking perfect. Maybe he'd get the guy to admit defeat, then.

Dean strived, silently, to pay attention to the eyes of his opponents in the match, so that he could search out blue ones, which for the next four hours, would dominate his thoughts.

Strike One.

(@but-for-the-gods-three-days How does this look?)

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Im doing a spacerap moodboard so have a pic of them

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"Blackhole" is also spacedolls btw

.....I stole the name😓

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Ricky

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Who does bro thinks he is and why is he so cool

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Someday(tomorrow) I will make a big post showing my process of making my RTC buttons, just warning u guys, get ready

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Do yall fw with Savannah as this ref

And Ricky as this one