#i drive a cute little honda

[cereusblue]

An update:

We are gathering the parts to fix the car. Have most things, but still need a few more. We are getting help from a neighbor to do repairs but the work still needs done and parts bought to repair. It may also need towed to the guys body shop to properly pull off the damaged bumper. From what I was told, the thing that cracked in half supports the coolant system and some other stuff. The coolant system is fucked, every single chamber in it is busted. We are going to see what all we need to do when the neighbor comes back with all the parts. He also has hope in fixing my car too, which would be fucking amazing since my fiancee still works 40 minutes away every day. The prius also isn't great on snow while my car is. It's been cold as hell and nothing is melting the snow yet. I'm hoping that if we can't get the prius going, we can get mine going for the first time since 2021. The battery is probably dead, the tires need pumped, and the rusted out ties under the car need replaced. Ah also the muffler needs replace because the last place that put the original one on botched it. So once those things are done, mine should be safe to drive again. Should be, at least. Again, probably another tow-to-shop situation because the thing needs lifted up to replace the parts that are just rusted to dust. I was told the car isn't safe to drive, so my neighbor will confirm that since the other things the body shop said were a bag of lies. His dad works at another body shop (the one who we originally took it to is run by one dude and his wife). So we will take it there. My neighbor pulled the hood open and looked over the thing and said that yeah this and that are destroyed but everything else is in beautiful condition. Which is exciting. I was told the floor and everything underneath would just fucking fall out from under me. Turns out it's not the case. The guy who also originally inspected the vehicle apparently had no idea what he was talking about because he called the destroyed pieces frame ties and my neighbor laughed and said my car doesn't even have those. I know car stuff but only to a degree lol. Some of the other things I don't remember what he said. I don't even know the actual names of the parts that need replaced on my car. But that's fine, I'm leaving it to the expert lol. So a little bit of good news. May not need to meet the fundraiser goal after all, but literally anything helps to get both the poor prius and my car fixed up. Unemployment won't fucking pay me right now anyway, so, I'll take any help possible.

And as a little thanks, here's some pics of my cats, Felix and Jinx. My girls thank you too~

(Felix has a missing tooth so she makes a bulldog face sometimes lol, don't worry about her facial expression.)

https://gofund.me/96bce824

Hi, all. So, I've had a day from hell and I'm too exhausted to re-explain on another platform. But here, I'll copy paste the story here. TLDR at the bottom. If you can't help, pass it on. Literally everything helps. Love you all.

Good day all, thank you for stopping your busy day to check my page.

Let me lay out the situation as best I can.

First off, some background for myself and my family. My fiancee and I only have(had) one functioning car between us when we took in a family member of his in an emergency CPS case. We are trying our hardest to take care of her and teach her how to be a person, but our schedules and only having one vehicle has made that a struggle. She has gotten a job just last week and is working hard to get on her feet. It's great and we are very proud of her! It's part time for the time being while she learns how to manage finances and how the world works.

However, since October things have started taking a turn for the worse. Between my fiancee and I, we both worked minimum wage and in October I bent over to put on a shoe and my back made a horrible crack noise. I went to the ER in immense pain and despite having insurance, I still got dumped with a hefty bill that to this day I am still trying to pay off. I have gone through physical therapy as requested by my doctor, since he didn't want to operate on someone of my age. However, it did nothing but agitate the problem. While I can now move around again, bending over and lifting anything past 15 pounds is strenuous. I'm in pain every single day and even sitting up is difficult most days. I can't stand up for long anymore before it becomes too much on my back. But things continue to happen, as they do. I was set to come back to see my surgeon this year but on Dec 29th in the last hour of the day, my job decided that an AI system could completely take over my job and laid me off. Getting unemployment as well as answers back from my previous work has been very difficult. My benefits were cut off with no chance to refill medications or see my surgeon. So, now my continued treatment to fix my back on top of my other health issues have all been put on pause. I've been working for almost two years now to get treatment and figure out what's wrong with my health, but I am now on a desperate search for a new job.

Which leads us to today. We are already strapped for money, and on a trip to an interview and my fiancee going to work, we got taken down a gravel road that looked deceptively fine. Driving across, the ice was far deeper than it appeared and it destroyed the grill, bumper, and wheel well (I believe that's what it's called) aka part of the frame that covers the front wheels broke and are hanging. That's not where it ends. So, I took the car to get it temporarily fixed so we could hopefully figure something out to get repairs done. The car got a temporary fix, and then I proceeded to take the car to pick up my fiancee from work. He and I began our drive back home, and as we were passing train tracks a doe jumped out into the road way too close to us. She only came into view as she appeared in the lights of the car, immediately getting bodied by the car. As you can see from the image, she destroyed the hood of the car and much more. I feel horrible for the poor thing and I hope she went quickly, noticing the fur and blood on the front bumper. We managed to get the car home, but the check engine light came on. This car is a Toyota prius. Anyone who knows anything about a prius knows they are basically tin cans. So, the worry is that the cooling system is busted now too. This will exponentially increase the amount we need to pay to repair the vehicle.

The worst part is, is that this is the only car we have to go to work and for me to go to interviews. I do have a car, but it's not in running condition right now. The poor thing is a 1999 and needs some parts replaced that we have not had the funds or availability to get a list of parts and have them replaced. The car also can't move anyway right now and would need towed. The prius is our only vehicle we have, and I don't have the funds to drop on fixing it. Insurance won't pay for it as far as we have been made aware by the body shop because of the type of insurance we have.

So, this is the current estimate we have to work with in regards to repairs. The entire front, hood, coolant system, and I know a few more pieces need replaced. The prius can run and be moved to a body shop at least, but paying for it will be a nightmare. If he can't get to work, we are in major trouble. My fiancee, his little sister, and I all rely on this car for work. While I'm still looking for work, I'm very limited because of my current physical state. We've spent a lot of money on my Healthcare already and every day are worried I'm going to reach for something and have my back crack again. While we are working on Medicaid, these things are proving a slow process. They also don't cover previous medical bills when I did have insurance. So, our only choice is to live off his income currently while I'm on a search for a new job every day. Our lives depend on this one car. Especially since we live out in the woods and work is 40 minutes away.

If you've read this far, I appreciate every single second of your time. Every single hand this gofundme goes through will be a huge help. If you can't help, that's okay, please don't stress your own financials if youre in a tough spot. If you can pass this along to anyone you can, that would be more than enough. Thank you again, and I wish you all better fortune this 2024.

For those who can't read the whole thing;

TLDR; Me and my family are already going through a lot of financial troubles with my health and being laid off, our only mode of transportation is severely damaged from an unmaintained roads massive pothole and hitting a deer in the same day. Three people rely on this one vehicle for all our jobs and interviews that are far from home. Donate if you can, if not, please share and thank you so very much.

Also including another picture here for you all to see. Thank you all again, I wish you better fortune this year.

[maneskinwh0re]

“one more word.” ~ butch!wolverine x ladypool!reader this is just a wlw honda odyssey scene bc i need butch wolverine to be real. i also aimed to write them in character! give feedback babes plsssss

cw: outdated cultural references, fourth wall breaking, nsfw, blood, f!ngering, strap!sex, idk just lotta gay shit xx

wc: 4.3k...👁️👁️

"get. in the fucking. car."

"it'll get you there safe and sound!" nicepool reassures with a loving pat to the top of the grey honda odyssey. "lil betsy always does." his eyes then fall to dogpool, who is held tightly in your arms. "you're gonna have to give me my dog back, though..."

"i know," you reply matter-of-factly. "listen-" you start before mary puppins places a paw on your hand. "yes, child... if you ever want to give her up or if she needs a new home, or if something should happen to you, i'd love to be her mama."

nicepool only wheezes at your remark. "what would ever happen to me?"

"lots of stuff," you reply with a shrug, smiling innocently under your red mask.

as soon as he realizes your seriousness, his smile fades and looks to the older woman standing to his right in an ask for help. the wolverine lets out a huff as she pushes herself off the honda and moves to grab the dog from your grasp.

"n-no! we're running away- agh- the corn was too dense, girl!" you say in apologies to mary puppins and watch sadly as laura hands the you-variant over to the other, nicer-you-variant.

you begrudgingly get in the passenger seat of the shitty car, waving goodbye to dogpool. the obnoxious sound of you singing "we'll meet again" is muffled by the car windows as laura drives you both away.

time passes. maybe 15 minutes, maybe an hour. doesn't matter, reader— don't worry about it. you haven’t been paying attention to the time because you’ve been sneaking quick gazes at the wolverine in the driver’s seat to your left. the way her brown hair curls up on either sides of her head looks so cute. yet the way her large, gloved hands grip the steering wheel causes your mind to wander other places. all you know now is there’s been a lingering thought poking at your brain since you picked this wolverine up from that bar in her universe.

"okay i'm just gonna ask. what's with the suit? first thing i did when i flamed out: i took mine off."

"drop it." laura mutters.

"it's not that ugly..."

"stop talkin about my suit."

"did you make it yourself? been there!"

"quit. now." the tension in her voice is rising.

"the x-men make you wear it? those sons of fuckin bitches. they are not your friends, i'll tell ya that. friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the los angeles rams-"

"shut the fuck up about the suit," she snaps.

"woahwoahwoah watch your frown lines, angel baby." you back off, lifting your hands in a motion of surrender. "i'm just trying to bond a little bit-"

"yeah? well then talk about something else."

"fine!"

there's an uncomfortable silence between you two, only for a moment before you play around, making spiderman web motions with your gloved hands. you just can’t help but annoy the woman next to you, it’s too much fun. it’s like your duty as passenger princess.

"stop it," she snaps again soon enough.

"why? don't wanna get distracted seeing my fingers in this motion?" you tease, moving your middle and ring finger back and forth. laura only scoffs at the sexual innuendo. "ahh, the natural hand position of the sapphics." you turn to look out the car window and make eye contact with the reader. "is that why so many masc lesbians are obsessed with spiderman? i guess only earth-616 knows the correlation..."

and wait- if i'm supposedly you, the reader, but as ladypool-- then how am i breaking the fourth wall? gasp! a fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break... that's like- sixteen walls... am i talking to myself? or talking to myself? whatever. anyway i know why you're here, you slut. let's make conversation by pushing wolvie's buttons some more, yeah?

"if they could fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get outta here? some rubbing alcohol shots? maybe a wiper fluid chaser?"

laura's gaze slowly turns to you. "what did you say?"

"i said when you get back, what's the first thing you're gonna do-"

"no no, before that."

"if-" you catch yourself. shit. "-they can fix your world?"

with an aggressive slam on the break, your seatbelt doesn't even have time to prevent your head from colliding with the dashboard. and as the car stops, you know there's nothing that can save you from the rage behind wolverine's tone.

"what do you mean if?" she asks through gritted teeth, body fully turned to face you.

"i mean-"

"you lied to me. you don't have a fucking clue if they could help me fix things. do you?"

"no, but i mean-" you start to defend yourself before three metal claws impale your thigh, and probably extend under you all the way through to your seat. "agh- fuck! fuck! i didn't lie!"

"you lied!"

"no! i made an educated wish!"

laura only tilts her head at your defense, eyebrows furrowing.

"because i need you," you continue as you unfold the photo that was in your pocket and hold it up for her to see. "this is why. right here. cause if we don't do something, they die. i don't know anything about saving worlds, and why would i even care? cause my entire world is right here in this picture. it's only nine people, and i have no idea how to save it alone. i know how to fuck people up for money but you- YOU know how to save them... at least the other wolverine did-" at that last comment, laura twists her claws in your thigh, striking enough pain for more curses to escape your mouth. "f-fuck! ah- i guess i'm stuck with the worst one-"

"did you just say you made an educated... fucking wish?"

"they call me the merc with the mouth. they don't call me truthful timmy the blowjob queen of sass catoo-"

the three metal blades are quickly removed from your thigh only to be brought up next to your face. laura's shaky breath exercises seem to be the only thing keeping her from slicing you apart.

"one more word... please, give me one." her guttural voice is a low warning. you wait a moment as if thinking to a random word generator in your brain.

"~gubernatorial~" you say simply before cowaring behind flailing arms when laura prepares to stab you in the face, only fake you out. her breaths are deeper, more steady as if she's trying to calm herself.

"you know what? you're a fucking joke... no wonder the avengers didn't take you, or the x-men or fuckin anyone. i mean you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering, little prick in my entire life. and that says a lot 'cause i've been alive for over two hundred fucking years." the volume in her voice begins to rise with each word, striking your emotions further and further as you sit there speechless, yet her anger keeps rising. "and i'll tell ya- that villain chick was right about one thing: you will NEVER save the world. you couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! and motherfucker i wish i could say you'd die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! except that's all on all of US!"

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain in your chest hurts too fucking bad. you are not only speechless, you never want to speak again. you have millions of words to say yet none at all.

how fucking dare she bring up vanessa like that? who does laura think she is? no fucking hero, that's for goddamn sure.

"you got nothing to say, mouth?" she asks, almost out of breath from yelling accusations.

all you can manage to say is one sentence. and she doesn’t even fucking deserve the warning too. "i'm gonna fight you now."

wolverine only snorts, a pitiful laugh towards your remark. "oh, are you?"

you take note how a quick punch to her nose shuts her right up, and watch in satisfaction how blood trickles out her nostril down to her upper lip. your small victory is cut short by her fist colliding to the same spot on your own nose. she pushes you to the window and grabs the back of your mask, then slams your face down onto the center head unit multiple times. different radio stations flick back and forth as you make contact with the buttons and nozzles, eventually landing on a song from the original 'grease' soundtrack.

♡ last gore x nsfw warning !! :3 ♡

you lift your hand to grab one of your swords but another punch to the cheek causes your vision to cloud. by the time you come to your senses, laura has buckled your seatbelt and is digging her left claw into your stomach, twisting her hand slowly.

“not talkin’ now, are ya?” she growls before withdrawing her claws and moving to stab you again. pulling the lever on the side of your car seat, you fall backwards to quickly dodge her blow. you kick your foot against her shoulder to keep her back, and then tightly wrap your legs around her head. another three blades enter your side in a sudden motion, causing you to release your chokehold.

“agh! you dirty bitch!” you shout before kicking her out the front windshield of the honda. you laugh and point as she rolls and tumbles through the leaves and dirt. as soon as she gets up, you unsheathe your swords while she sprints back to you. she’s a fucking animal—ramming herself into the front of the car, causing the airbag to go off on your stomach and send you flying back into the reclined seat.

laura jumps through the broken windshield and lands claws first on top of your already bloodied body. slash after slash, you both further each others’ injuries until you flip laura over and pin her down to the seat. there is surprise in her eyes with a hint of something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. trying to catch your breath, she only looks up at you with a ratted smile, as if amused to see you attempting to kill her. blood stains her face and fanged teeth, and her short hair is tangled and damp with sweat. fuck—it’s a sight. with your elbow against her chest, you’re still close enough to smell her alcohol-tainted breath.

“need a mint, you preening slut?” you ask before you are flying through the sunroof of the honda and falling to the ground outside the car. after kicking yourself up, your little wolvie gestures for you to come back with a simple hand wave behind the window. who are you to keep her waiting? throwing the swords over your shoulders, you take out your baby knives before running back to the car and jumping through the window.

broken glass and blood is everywhere, but neither of you care. you’re both having too much fun trying to murder the other as you take turns regenerating. it’s a pointless waste of time and energy. a total meaningless circle of fighting and healing.

you pin laura through the broken windshield and onto the front hood of the car, stabbing her shoulder and arms repeatedly with a knife. the sleeves of her suit eventually fall apart, fabric scattering and leaving her muscular arms to your gaze. so clearly you’re distracted. she grabs your wrist behind her and heaves your arm over her head to hold you in her place for a moment to catch her breath.

she then drags you by the belt from across the car and holds you down with her body in the back seat. her claws sink through the red fabric and into your sides. again. and again. the repetitive motions of the sharp metal soon causes a big tear in the fabric of your suit, exposing the skin under your breast. it seems as if neither of you notice at first, continuously fighting until another stretch from her pinning your arms above your head causes a terrible ripping sound. you both stop and look down, unsure on who has the decency to yield the fight first.

wolverine pauses for a moment, hovering over your bare tit before suddenly attacking your nipple with her mouth. there is nothing gentle about it, and you can’t tell if her actions are still a way of fighting with the harsh ways her sharp teeth nip and bite.

you lay there for a moment in shock, chest heaving up and down in short spurts as you try to breathe. your hands drop the knives to the car floor behind you, yet your wrists are still trapped in the wolverine’s grip. before you can think to stop it, a breathy whimper escapes your lips. the sound pricks laura to come to her senses and looks up at you with a flushed expression.

fucking hell. if you weren’t okay with what’s happening, you would’ve said something by now. even laura knows that—considering how fucking chatty you are.

“were ya hungry, peanut? needed a mid-fight snack?” you tease, tilting your head with a raised brow.

“i didn’t say i was finished.” she smirks before lowering her head to your chest again. her tongue circles and flicks at your nipple, treating it oh so lovingly before biting and pulling at it so fucking roughly. you chew on your bottom lip to muffle your own moans—all because you’re too stubborn to let her know how fucking good it feels.

she’s holding herself back, yet you kick her chest and propel her weight backwards onto the head unit, while the momentum pushes you the opposite direction into the third row of seats. as she falls, the grease song playing from the radio is muted, leaving you two to a short-lived silence.

"i was wrong—the honda odyssey fucks hard,” you say, rolling your head back and cracking your neck in the process. looking back to laura, you usher her to you with a teasing two-finger motion. “too bad you don't, needle dick.”

“oh, we’re just getting started, bub,” she replies, eyeing your manspread position before lunging to you again.

calling her an animal is to say the fucking least. but you’re no better. she rips and tears your suit, not giving a single fuck in the world that you may need to keep it in tact for later in the plot line. she pulls the tough fabric apart, exposing your tits to her lingering eyes. it’s like a switch is flipped. all of a sudden she can’t get enough, wanting- needing to see more of you. for a moment, you just let her. your belt is removed followed by your pants all while you just lay back and watch her do the work. soon you’re only in your black underwear, smirking under your red and black mask at how fucking needy she looks. her callused hands grip your waist, easily pulling you up to her as her mouth finds your other nipple.

“you’re not you when your hungry. and clearly, you always seem incredibly hungry, wolvie.”

“shuh du phvck uh.” is what you make of her boob-drunk gibberish and assume she’s simply cussing you out.

“huh? couldn’t quite catch that. y’ know you really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full-”

a large, gloved hand muffles your masked mouth before her lips release your tit with a pop.

“off,” she says. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and she must be able to tell by your silence, causing her to elaborate quickly while her free hand lingers on the black lace of your underwear. “i don’t want a damn word out of your filthy mouth until you’ve taken these off. if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to let me.”

fucking hell. panties are soaking wet right now.

you slowly nod your head in her restrictive grip, and lift your hips to remove the damp fabric from your body. damp from blood or sweat or something else… who fucking knows and who fucking cares. you toss them to the side and immediately pull laura closer to you. her harsh kisses mark your neck and collarbone before she wets her middle finger with her tongue and starts to rub quick circles on your clit. you almost push her away, her starting speed too overstimulating at first, but you soon get used to it, bucking your hips in a physical ask to move faster.

“keep still, sweetheart. that’s it,” fuck even her praise is still low and demanding somehow. you wrap your hands around her hairy forearm, hissing curses as you feel yourself grow closer and closer to the edge.

“fuck- you know, i bet you’re a pretty good dj in some other univers- oh my god!” your silly quip is cut short by her pushing one finger into you. then another. and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess as you soak her hand as well as the car seat beneath you. her mouth is against your masked ear, shushing your witticism. white rings of cum coat up to her knuckles while her thumb resumes a quick pace on your clit.

banter is over as quiet whimpers replace your usual chatterbox routine. her large fingers feel so much better than your own, and then that’s where she leaves you—fingers curling inside your cunt causing your brain to see stars. your orgasm hits you hard, but not as hard as she does—a rough slap to your face intensifies every sensation, leaving you pained like putty in her grasp as you come down from your high. “don’t got much to say now, huh?”

your eyes focus on her hair and how it twirls up on both sides—the classic hairstyle for any and all wolverine’s across the multiverse. “why do~you style~your hair like that?” your voice slurs with dizzy haze, and laura only looks down at your drunken state quizzically. “were ya going f’ wolf? ‘cause it makes ya look more like a cat. like my little meow meow~”

a growl creeps from the back of her throat before three claws find a home—digging into the flesh on your shoulder.

“shit! you angry ‘bout it, mama?” you ask teasingly before watching her slowly remove her belt. “no- not the belt! i won’t be a naughty girl, i swear!”

“don’t be dramatic,” she scoffs as she tosses the belt aside and straddles you again.

“that’s kinda my job. hashtag drama queen. hashtag full-time. ‘round the clock. just like how your full time job is hiding a fully comic accurate superhero suit under your clothes for when its use comes once every twenty fucking years.”

that switched something in her. she yanks your mask off your head and glares down into your eyes. then a smirk sneaks its way onto her lips. fuck. what does she know that you don’t?

“you think this suit is the only thing i keep under my clothes?” your jaw tenses when laura unzips her pants and allows her strap to spring out to your view. it has to be at least eight to nine inches, the color matches her skin tone and the base of it connects to the black harness buckled around her boxers.

“marvel jesus h. christ! where did you even get that thing? the prop table from the set of alien?!"

you half-expect an answer, but she only lifts your mask and forces a mouthful of the red fabric down your throat, leaving your fear-factored size question hanging in the air. “there… silence is nice. isn’t it?” you’ve lost your voice, but you don’t protest. your frustrated whimpers are muffled and shaky breaths escape through your nose as laura traces her dick up and down your wetted lips. “just relax, beautiful,” she whispers as she slips the tip into you. the tone of her voice is teasing, clearly loving how much power she so easily has over you. pushing in deeper, her pace stays agonizingly slow, as if she’s having to think about controlling every thrust. your eyes follow the grinding movements of her hips and your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. as laura starts to speed up, your backside rubs against the car seat. trying to find a sense of stability, your hands scatter up the butch’s clothed torso and eventually grip her broad shoulders. you can’t help but buck your hips again, no longer ashamed of how fucking needy you look doing so. one of her hands claw at the shoulder of the seat behind you while the other has a strong hold on your hip, guiding your body with hers. guiding soon turns to holding and holding soon turns to pinning. not only is she now chasing her high, but she will do whatever she needs to get to it.

“agh~ fuck. is this what you wanted? to be wrapped around me like this? you’re so pathetic, it’s adorable.”

when all you can do is moan in reply, laura knows she’s fucked you stupid, but still long ways away from being done with you. she suddenly stops altogether and pulls out of you, chuckling quietly when you groan due to your pleasure being delayed. she turns you over and props you up on your knees, then holds you down by the back of the neck with one hand and finds a firm grip on your ass with the other. her relentless thrusts continue, causing a repetitive sound of her hips slamming into the backs of your thighs. every time she pulls back, you follow her dick—leaning to her to chase that friction.

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain hurts too fucking good. your words are still muffled against your ladypool mask, the fabric now damp with saliva and drool. maybe tears as well.

“speak up, princess. ‘s hard to hear you,” laura instructs as she removes the piece from your mouth.

“i… i’m… gonna-” you start before trailing off, finding it hard to focus on words as laura speeds up her pace.

“what, pretty thing? y’ gonna cum?”

“tha-that’s what she said!” of course. of-fucking-course those are the words you can get to leave your stuttering mouth.

“god—do you ever shut the fuck up?” laura groans before tossing your mask to the side and holding your hips steady. when she notices your silence, she leans forward, a hand massaging your tit and her teeth taking a harsh bite at your earlobe. “or maybe you just need to be fucked speechless, don’t you?”

yes. a million times yes.

quiet whimpers leave your lips, the smell of cigars and alcohol mixed with the stench of blood and sex is almost overwhelming. laura slows her pace again, taking her sweet time watching, playing, torturing you for pleasure. that sadistic fuck.

“i do love these cute little noises you’re making, yeh? tell me how good it feels. i know it feels good but i wanna hear you say it—come on. spit it out,” she says into your ear. her lips have gone dry from breathing heavily and sweat trickles down her forehead and nose. the torn fabric of her yellow and navy blue suit rug-burns against your skin from all the excessive movement, but you don’t care. laura pulls your arms behind your back before yanking a seat belt out of its buckles to wrap tightly around your wrists. the rough material hurts, but it’s a good-hurt. when you only let out a porn-styled moan (half-exaggerating to poke fun at her), the wolverine behind you reaches under your neck and grabs your jaw. “you’ not gonna use that mouth?”

“fuck- okay! yes, it feels good. you feel so fucking good. just- please, let me- let me cum!”

and your begs get so easily rewarded. laura must have a soft spot for you because her thrusts speed up again, and this time hit hard with no intention of stopping.

what has little wolvie turned you into, hm? you, ladypool, a beggar? breaking out of character many would argue, but maybe that’s her goal: finding what breaks you.

“not yet. shit- wait ‘til i say.”

the hilt of her strap hits her clit just right as she continues to drive herself into your pretty cunt. as minutes pass and breaths quicken, her metal claws unsheathe and dig themselves into the seat beneath you two. she’s close.

with clamped hands still tied behind your back, you sense that knot in your stomach growing. guttural sounds from the back of the throat slip from laura’s lips, filling your ears as she hits your g-spot again and again, pushing you so quickly towards your release for the second time.

“right there! plea- please, please! i’m… gonna-”

“go on, sweetheart. fucking cum~”

at her words, her command—you feel yourself tighten around her. and your moans must’ve been what did it for her because immediately after—husky groans are heard from behind your bare, trembling body. the heavy weight of a wolverine falls against you, breathing hard onto your skin as her sweat-coated face buries itself into the nape of your neck. a trail of little bite marks, enhanced by her small fangs, are left scattered across your shoulders and upper back.

her middle finger finds your clit again to draw little circles, bringing out pitiful whimpers and post-sex muscle spasms from your worn out body.

“ca- canada…”

your contorted face and senselessness brings her to hum—which is her version of a laugh in this dizzy state. she broke you. and it didn’t take very much, did it?

she turns your chin to look up at her, her face reflecting that drunken haze with the ghost of a smile across her lips. her focus falls to your parted mouth for a moment before finally connecting her lips with yours. the kiss is softer than you expect, as if her hunger’s satisfied, yet the warm taste of cigars and alcohol linger.

“y’ did good, sweetheart.”

just good? must she always be so condescending?

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

spent way too long on this lol comment/repost if you like it, loves !!

this is so gonna flop but idc i wrote it for me and bookie 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @pr1ncessjo <3

[seat-safety-switch]

Motorcyclists: are they like us? Car drivers have been asking themselves this question for centuries, usually whenever they see a motorcyclist. What's their deal, they wonder, and why can't they be much larger, heavier, and harder to kill when I try to drive over them? Don't they know how bad I am at operating this thing?

Recent research from the big ol' University on the hill indicates that motorcyclists and humans share a common hominid ancestor. In fact, we share 99.99% of our DNA with them as well. Rumour has it that, in the winter months or in times of great stress, some motorcyclists can even use cars. In order to operate a car like the rest of us, it is said they can even shed their outer skin and hard exoskeleton coating, but this remains unproven so far.

Most importantly, the research offers several clues to help identify friends and family who may be secret motorcyclists. First, check Craigslist or your local equivalent for sweet deals on cheap vintage bikes. Then, show those bikes to them. If they get real excited and start talking about how the bikes just need a little bit of work, chances are you've got yourself (at least) a latent motorcyclist.

Unfortunately, our so-called enlightened world prevents you from immediately turning them into the authorities on just a suspicion, but keep an eye out once you know. Sooner or later, you're going to at least have a Honda CT70 in the garage that they're just "holding for a friend."

Say, a Honda CT70. I bet those are cheap on the used market. And they're pretty cute. Easy to store in the garage. Just needs the carb cleaned, probably... new clutch...

[keikikait]

ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

for my other megumi fic, click here (warning - smut!)

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 2k

summary: you love your new apartment, as small as it is. it's in the perfect place, right next to the train station, and is cheap as hell. the only downside? your neighbour, who revs his bike outside your window every morning.

warnings: NO SMUT!, no angst!, multi part series, kind of enemies to lovers, slowburn?, megumi is kinda rude lmaoooo, the girls are fighting!, he says sweetheart twice, reader is kinda down bad lmao

a note: sorry for the delay, i've been busy with work! also, 8 square metres is about 86 square feet :).

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

The rent was cheap. Suspiciously cheap. 

You should’ve been wary, but you didn’t have many options. After a bitter fallout with your roommate, you needed to move out quickly. You should’ve paid more attention to the listing, you realise, as you stop in front of the building and it sinks in that your new digs weren’t 18 square metres.

It was eight square metres. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have much furniture with you, needing to sell it all to afford the move. Your apartment was essentially one long, two-story hallway, just enough for your desk chair and TV. 

You get settled in quickly, trying to liven up the place by replanting your herb garden outside on your small porch. The apartment doors faced an alley, and on the other side of the alley was another apartment building. You didn’t know how much sunlight your basil would get, but that’s a problem for future you.

A problem for the current you, however, was your neighbour's motorcycle. The bike is an exact replica of the legendary Honda Super Cub that was used in the original anime Akira, and as pretty as it is, that shit is loud. His apartment is right on the edge by the sidewalk, meaning the only place he can park it is right in front of your window.

You’ve tried everything. Earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Ear plugs under your noise-cancelling headphones. Sleeping with a white noise machine. Nothing works. You only moved in a month ago but you’re already sick of this mysterious man and his bike. You don’t run into each other often, catching glimpses of him as he drives off in the morning and comes home at night. You didn’t want to be that neighbour, the one that complains about every single little thing, but it was driving you mad. He revs his bike so loudly and for so long, that you’re starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.

You wake up that fateful morning and decide you’ve had enough. You wait for him to return home, hyping yourself up in the mirror before heading outside to confront him. You idle nervously in front of his front door for a few seconds before knocking. 

He answers, looking exhausted, his hair a mess from his helmet. “Yeah?” You have to admit, he’s pretty cute. Tall and lean, with bicep muscles that strain against the fabric of his black t-shirt. And you swear you can see some eyeliner smudged on his water line.

You smile, trying to come across as calm and casual, slightly flustered by how attractive he is. “Hey. I’m your new next-door neighbour,” You gesture with your thumb. “I don’t wanna be that person, but would it be possible for you to not rev your engine so loud in the morning? It’s just…it’s right by my window, and it’s really loud.”

He lets out a sigh of frustration, not exactly in the mood for what you're throwing at him. It was already 9 pm on the third day in a row that he had worked the late shift, and this was not something he needed right now. He looks at you, his expression a mixture of irritation and confusion. “Look, I'm not doing it on purpose. I park where I park, nothing is going to change that. You just moved in, this is how it's been and how it's always going to be.”

You blink, a little taken aback by how rude he was being. “I understand that, but surely I'm not the only person in the building who gets inconvenienced by your bike.”

He crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. The last thing he wants to do after a long shift is argue with someone about something as insignificant as noise. “Look, if you don't like it, then move out. I don't see anybody else complaining. You're the only one.”

You clench your jaw. You had some experience with bikes, your ex-boyfriend being a mechanic. You knew it was possible to make the revving quieter, it just seems like he didn’t care. “Can’t you just buy a muffler silencer?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh, one that doesn't hold a single trace of humor.  “A muffler silencer? For a Super Cub? Are you serious? That would be like asking a Ferrari to be quiet.”

“You can’t expect everyone to just be okay with how loud your bike is, man.” You say. “I’m sure it inconveniences everyone in the building, but no one wants to be the person that confronts you.”

He seems to be holding back from saying what he wants to say, taking a shallow breath. “Look. It's my bike. I can do whatever I want with it. No one else is bothered, so why should you be any different? Why do you care so much?”

“You’re not the only person who works early mornings.” You say. “You aren’t the only person in the world, you know.”

That strikes a nerve, clearly, but he still doesn't seem interested in hearing what you're saying. He just rolls his eyes, looking away at his bike for a moment before looking back at you. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in case you haven't realised, you're not that important.”

“Neither are you.” You say impulsively. It was mean, and you didn’t like being mean, but he wasn’t giving you any other option.

He glares at you, his expression darkening. It's only for a moment, but you can see there is actual vitriol in his eyes. “Look, I'm going to make this simple for you. If you don't like the noise, then move out. That bike is not going anywhere. It has more meaning to me than you'll ever understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Akira meant so much to you as a kid,” You say sarcastically. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep doing this, man. Buy a muffler silencer.” 

He laughs, but there's a slight tinge of bitterness to it. “Oh, so it's just a cartoon to you? It’s not an influential masterpiece that changed motorcycle and animation culture forever? Okay, great. Good to know.” He is starting to get worked up, but then he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. “Look, like I said, I am not doing anything to this bike. Not the mufflers, nothing.”

“Then park it somewhere else.” You snap. “Keep it away from my window. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

There's a flash of annoyance on his face. “There's no place to park it away from your window unless I block the sidewalk, which I guarantee you would cause more inconvenience. You're just going to have to deal with it.”

“Are you always this rude and stuck up?” The question stumbles out of your mouth before your mind can process it.

His temper flares up. He takes a step towards you, putting his hands on his hips as he glares at you. “Are you always this entitled and self-absorbed?”

You take a step back. You hate to admit it, but the way he towers over you is arousing. His cologne fills your nostrils and you find yourself getting lightheaded. It was slightly spicy, with a hint of vanilla and coffee. 

You ground yourself, swallowing hard. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want us to come to a reasonable compromise.”

He glares at you, his eyes boring into you as you step back. You can feel the heat on your skin as if every drop of sweat in his body has been activated by the situation. His cologne is overwhelming you, filling your whole body. “There is no compromise to make here. You don't like the noise, tough. You're just going to have to get used to it or move out. That's it.”

Your eye twitches. “You’re such an asshole.” At this point, you didn’t feel bad being mean to him. He kind of deserved it.

He laughs, seeming almost amused by your temper. “You're one to talk. You come barging up to my apartment, demanding I make changes to my bike, and then you get mad at me when I tell you not to waste your time. Look in the mirror, sweetheart, and then come back with the right to tell me I'm an asshole.”

Fuck. You shouldn’t like the way he says sweetheart, but it causes your throat to dry up. “I tried to be nice to you,” You say. “You’re the one that got defensive and rude.”

“Nice? Maybe in your little dreamland that's what you think you were doing. Maybe you even believe that you were just being friendly and reasonable, I don't know. But in reality, all you were doing was pissing me off and acting like some sort of entitled princess.” He takes a step closer to you, his finger pointed in your face. “But one thing is certain. I’m not changing anything about my bike just to make you happy.”

He’s so close to you that it makes your head spin. You step back again, leaning against the railing surrounding his small porch. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me for being upset.”

He doesn't seem interested in letting you off the hook yet, not when he looks so close to snapping. “It doesn't matter if you're upset or not. You don't get what you want by coming here and giving me an attitude like a fucking brat.”

You swallow hard. Fuck. You shouldn’t be attracted to this man, he was rude as hell and didn’t seem to care that he was inconveniencing not only you but everyone in the building. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was so pretty, and he smelled so good, and his voice was so nice. You were going to have to change your panties when you got back home. 

You stand up straight, trying to stay headstrong. “You’re being incredibly rude about this.”

“And you're being incredibly entitled. There's only one of us that needs to change here, and it's not me.” He narrows his eyes, his gaze still burning into you.

You lick your lips. “Look, we’re not going to get anywhere by arguing.”

He gives another one of those short, sharp laughs. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip. “You finally said something smart. I didn’t know it was so difficult for you. Now, are you ready to accept that you're not going to get what you want, or do you want to keep wasting my time?”

Your eyes narrow. What the fuck? “Excuse me? Did you just call me dumb?”

A smirk spreads across his lips. “You heard me. Or did you need me to repeat it for you?”

You let out a sharp laugh, moving off of his porch. “You know what? Fuck you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. “Oh, so you've switched from demanding to insults? Real mature, aren't you?”

You head over to your apartment, laughing again. “I should’ve known trying to reason with you would be impossible.” 

He calls after you. “You're damn right it's impossible. You come here, make some demands, and then get mad when I tell you no. You're a spoiled brat who always gets her way, aren't you? Well, today's a bad day for you, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck you.” You say, holding the door to your apartment open. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” He says, smirking slightly. “I’m not into brats like you. I think you need to be taken down a few pegs. You need someone to put you in your place.”

You scoff and flip him off before slamming the door behind you, and just like that, you have given up. 

He leans against his door, crossing his arms and smiling as he watches you leave, his eyes on your ass. He’s just a tiny bit disappointed that you gave up so quickly. He's got to admit, it was pretty fun messing with you, watching how angry you get. He thought you looked cute like that, your cheeks all red and flustered.

Maybe next time…

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here

dedicated to the lovely @whereflowerswenttodie

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

what cars i believe the batfamily drives. my only qualifications are that i work in an auto parts retailer. this is purely based off vibes realistically they probably all drive teslas.

dick drives an early 2000s toyota corolla that he loves to death. he refuses to get a new car until this one dies. (which will be never because it’s a toyota)

jason in my head doesn’t have a car license but if he did drive a car it would be a toyota hilux or ford raptor ranger.

tim drives a newish hyundai i30 or a mazda2. idk why but in my head he drives a cute little hatchback.

cass definitely drives a slick black sedan. maybe a lexus or a mazda6.

steph drives a sedan honda civic because i’ve never met a civic owner that wasn’t girly pop or a upper class asian man.

duke either drives a kia rio OR a mitsubishi lancer OR an older model RAV4.

damian when he gets his first car it’s gonna be a mercedes or a bmw. probably a hatchback or sedan. i’m not sure of model tho.

bruce drives a either a audi, lexus or mercedes. maybe he has one of each. they’re probably all sedans and then he owns like one SUV.

[lowkeyrobin]

I'm sorry for spamming you I'm just really excited--

Reader who also streams and just rants a lot while they play Stardew Valley?

Like mid milking a cow or something they pause the game and rant about how to kiss someone or smth?...

-🌕 anon! <3

AH OMG DONT WORRY ABOUT SPAMMING I LOVE YOU GUYS 🫶🫶🫶 but I absolutely love this LMAO I made this into a preference setup instead of a oneshot bc I didn't know exactly who you wanted and I was having difficulty finding a way to stretch it out that long anyways. idk much about stardew valley so bare with me, I rewatched Tommy's video of him playing w Molly to help me 💀💀

MCYT ; stardew valley rants

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, freddie badlinu, niki nihachu, foolish gamers & quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you'll just be doing some tasks and be like "you know, I've never kissed anyone before. like, how does that work?"

meanwhile Tommy came over a little bit ago to hang out after stream and he just looks at you like 🤨😨

"youve never kissed anyone?? wait... we haven't kissed before? y/n/n, what?"

you shake your head no, confirming that you guys actually never kissed somehow, your relationship was kinda new in both of your defenses.

"we've only been dating like, 2 months, it's fine"

"ARE YOU TRYING TO BE A KISSING VIRGIN FOREVER????"

literally have your first kiss on stream bro

THE EDITS 🫶🙏 I CANT EVEN

the cutest shit ever

RANBOO

you literally paused the whole game mid-farming to rant about some restaurant you and ranboo went to the past day

chat was exploding with "oooo they went on a date" and you were just like "guys it was good food, 10/10"

they get you to join a call with them and you guys talk about it together and your whole experience and how awesome the food was

not to mention the aesthetic of the restaurant was so well put together

you got back to your stream with a little story for your viewers

BADLINU

you started ranting about a movie/show you're fixated on at the moment

went through all the lore, all the characters, background info, etc

Freddie was watching and using tts to talk to you

he encouraged it dw

like he was holding a convo w you and everything it was the cutest shit ever

the edits.

also people clipped the whole like half hour long thing and posted it to YouTube like "y/u/n and badlinu talk about ___!"

you don't even remember it within a week but HE DOES

just one of those cute relationship moments he loves to think about

QUACKITY

you were playing stardew while he was playing gta and you were on a vc together

so obv it kinda sounded crazy 💀💀

"y/n I'm gonna drive my Honda Accord over there and kill all your cows!"

"I swear to God, quackity, don't even dare"

not really ranting but you were yelling threats at him and shit LMAO

NIHACHU

you guys were playing together 🫶

you were teaching her how to do everything and stuff

you eventually went on a tangent about things you do and don't like about the game

she was agreeing to your solid points and stuff

that turns into a rant about hair color and if she can color your hair for you LMAO

FOOLISH GAMERS

"Dude, how do people do that van life shit? I'd die doing that"

straight up hour and a half rant about how much you hate van life tik tokkers while playing stardew valley

he's in your chat like "Yes 100 percent" and adding onto your points LMAO

you both share a hate for van life mfs

[neiptune]

hi miss v!! 🥺 i hope you're having a wonderful day/night <3 this event is rly cute 🥺..,, could i request "you could be the one that i keep" and sanemi? thank you.,, giving u a little smooch.., <3333

sanemi shinazugawa x you could be the one that I keep

“I honestly can’t believe you” Obanai is not put off by your scowl in the slightest, if anything he’s fighting back a smile.

“I remember mentioning the night out”

“You never mentioned drinks being on Tengen” you hiss and this time he does smirk.

“Not our fault your man can’t hold his liquor”

His words light a fire in your stomach and you feel blood rushing all the way to your cheeks.

“He’s not—”

“Yeah, yeah, not yet because both of you are goddamn idiots” his gaze suddenly shifts from your eyes to something behind you.

“Hey” the greeting is soft, he’s always softer when he’s drunk “finally decided to join us?” you know he only has a hand on your shoulder to balance himself and you’re certain his lips feel too close to the shell of your ear only because he’s doing a terrible job at not tripping over his own feet.

“I’m here to drive you home” well, it’s not like you’re being any better at playing off your self-consciousness as annoyance.

You expect protests, outrage, a little tantrum even, but all Sanemi does is huff through his nose and glare at Obanai.

“I told you I’m fine” he slightly sways and the grip on your shoulder tightens.

“Sure you are” his best friend clicks his tongue and flashes him a smile “we’re gonna leave too in a bit and there’s only so much space in Kyojuro’s car”

The lie is so blatant is offensive, really. Sober Sanemi would’ve kicked his ass.

“Fine” drunk him sleepily mumbles instead, before he puts his entire arm around your shoulders “take me home, then”

Such simple words have your insides churning. Glaring one final time at Obanai, you walk past him and towards the exit.

As you navigate the crowded bar, Sanemi barely registers the hollering coming from the table he was sitting at until you showed up, his friends yelling for you to join them. He stumbles slightly against you, far too distracted by the fruity scent of your hair and the arm you have secured around his waist.

The breeze outside is cool. He actually knows he’s long gone from the way he can feel the thumping of the music from the bar right inside his stomach, from how breathing suddenly takes more effort. Must be why he stumbles forward until he’s leaning up against your car as soon as he spots the familiar honda civic, a soft laugh escaping his lips when he opens his eyes and sees the way you’re looking at him.

“M’okay” he assures, flushed cheeks and pale eyes “I apologize for being a nuisance”

It’s just that I feel I could swim through the sidewalk right now so I need a moment, he mentally adds.

You giggle and Sanemi forces his eyes to focus because he doesn’t want blurry vision to keep him from witnessing the beautiful way your eyes crinkle.

“What?” he asks, mirroring your smile by muscle memory.

“Nothing” you shrug and the oversized coat you’re wearing almost swallows you whole “I like it when you’re drunk and talk like that”

“Like what?”

“All formal and solemn” you giddily grin underneath the streetlights and Sanemi rolls his eyes. It’s a mistake, because his stomach contracts from a pang of nausea right away. He feels dizzy and hates the fact that you’re there just as his designated driver, he hates that the alcohol currently buzzing through his veins has him already reaching the stage where he’s about to throw up. He wishes you would’ve showed up when he was still two drinks in, the thinking about you enough to just fucking kiss you if you were here stage.

“Come on, let’s go” he’s having a hard time standing without swaying so you inch forward to open the passenger side door and help him climb onto your leather seat. You feel the warmth radiating from his body as you buckle him in and Sanemi has to dig his nails into his palms to keep his hands from grabbing you by the waist.

It’s a quick drive to his apartment, he rents a place close to downtown. He’s spent the entire ride in silence, just looking at you and being quick to turn his attention to the dash whenever you’d glance at him to make sure he was still awake. Right as you park before his apartment complex, Sanemi rolls down his window and just rests his head against the seat, eyes closed.

“We’re here” your fingers lightly drum on the steering wheel. He knows it’s the middle of the night and you’re probably aching to go back to bed already, but he wants this moment to last just a bit longer. Your perfume smells too nice and your voice is too gentle for him to simply get out of the car and crawl back to his empty flat.

“Nemi?”

“Yeah. I won’t fall asleep, don’t worry. Can we just stay like this for a second?” he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that you’re getting comfortable in your own seat. His heart swells with relief at your little sure.

“Wanna tell me how much you had to drink?” your tone is playful but he scoffs nonetheless, opening his eyes once more. To avoid looking at you, he pulls the latch of your glove box to the left to open it. Vehicle paperwork, receipts, $10 in quarters, a lipstick and…

“Can’t believe you kept this” he mumbles to himself as he takes the little keychain he’s bought for you at a fair so many years before, when you still barely knew each other and he already knew how big of a problem you were going to become.

“M’not like you, I keep everything” you smile.

Sanemi scoffs.

“I could keep you” he thinks to himself “you could be the one that I keep”

Thank god he wouldn’t dare speak those words out loud.

Or would he?

You let out a suffocated gasp.

[topguncortez]

The Professor | Chapter 13

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: You follow your dream to the golden coast, leaving behind a lot more than your childhood, friends, and family.

word count: 3k

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, mentions of smut, heartbreak, happy ending

Six months later - June

            The ocean breeze was cold as it rolled off the waves crashing on the beach. You closed your eyes, basking in the morning sun, listening to the seagulls above you. You had found out that the beach was nearly deserted in the mornings, and it was the best time for you to come and clear your mind. You’d wake up, feed the cat that you had adopted (you named him Tybalt, the prince of cats), then lace up your sneaks and run for the beach. You had been living in California for the past several months, working at the writing center on campus before you started Doctor Hoffman’s program in the coming fall. 

            You missed Boston dearly, but you needed to get out. You had spent your whole life in Boston, and though you had good memories, nothing will ever be able to replace the bad ones. Losing your parents was the worst thing you had ever gone through, and you wouldn’t wish anything like that on your worst enemy. Lucy and Zeke had helped you pack up all your things. Zeke volunteered to drive across the country in the U-Haul while you and Lucy flew. They helped you unpack most things, and then shared a very tearful goodbye as you stood in the airport and watched the two most important people in your life head back to start their own lives. Lucy had promised you to include you in all wedding details. 

            Tybalt was waiting by the door when you arrived home. He was a cute little tabby that had an extra toe in each paw. His ear was a bit tattered and the woman at the shelter said that he had survived a house fire. You knew that he was the right one for you. You had asked your parents for a sign that you made the right choice to move, and they gave you Tybalt. 

            You scratched his ears as you walked towards the kitchen. He jumped up on the counter and meowed as you reached for the cupboard where his food was. 

            “What would you have with me?” You asked the cat, quoting Shakespeare, and filled his dish with food. The cat happily walked over to the dish and began eating, “Good King of Cats, only one of your nine lives!” 

            Your apartment in California was a simple studio apartment. You didn’t need a lot of space since it was just you and Tybalt. It was also one of the cheaper ones near campus. You decided to sell your car to help afford the move across the country. Zeke was sad to see the old honda civic leave, quoting all the memories that were shared from the times he hotboxed it with your brother. You sighed as you sat down at your small kitchen table and began checking emails. 

            Some days, you regret moving so soon after graduating. Sometimes the silence in the apartment was often too quiet for you to focus, and you’d end up playing music or staring blankly at your computer. Other times, your heart longed to be back in Boston. Back in the presence of the people who have become your family. In the presence of him. 

            — — — 

            Jake groaned as he sipped his overpriced cup of coffee as he walked through the cold campus with Bob. Bob had made a pact that Tuesday mornings where coffee mornings with himself and Rooster, trying to cheer Jake up out of his sour mood. Except this morning Rooster couldn’t make it, so Jake was left listening to Bob talk about black holes and space dust by himself. Jake was half listening trying to focus on not slipping and falling on the ice. 

“If it’s a boy I’m going to name it after you,” Bob blurted out and Jake snapped his head towards him. 

“What?” 

“Wow, you really haven’t been listening to me,” Bob rolled his eyes as he opened the door for the english building, “I said, Miranda and I are expecting. Found out about three weeks ago.” 

“Wow, Bob, that’s amazing,” Jake hugged his friend, “How is everything? How is she feeling?” 

“Well, morning sickness is a bitch,” Bob chuckled, “She’s doing okay. She’s telling her kids at school today. And I wonder how they’ll take it. This one kid, Jimmy, always gives me the evil eye when I visit her sometimes.”  

            “You got competition, Bobby,” Jake laughed. 

            “Who’s got competition?” 

            Jake’s blood ran cold at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t heard it in over a year, and he was beyond thankful for that. He used to love the sound of her voice, but now it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Bob had a look of complete shock on his face as he looked at the woman standing before him. Like Jake, Bob hadn’t seen Allison since she was kicked out of his house and showed up on Bob’s doorstep in the pouring rain. 

            “Oh don’t be speechless now,” Allison said, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked right up to Bob and hugged him. Bob looked at Jake with a confused expression on his face, “How are you, Bobby? It’s been a while.” 

            “Good, Allison,” Bob nodded, “Uh, I was telling Jake that Miranda is pregnant.”

            “Wonderful!” Allison smiled and then looked at her ex-husband, “Jacob.” 

            “Why are you here?” Jake asked and Bob glared at him, “What do you want?” 

            Allison gave him a tight lipped smile and sighed, “I came back to give you this,” Jake watched as she opened her purse and pulled out a ring box, “My mother heard from yours that you are considering marriage again.” 

            “Really?” Bob asked and now it was Jake’s turn to give him a glare. Bob held his hands up in defense and walked down to his friend’s office. 

            Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was unsure why Allison kept the ring or didn’t just give it to his mother in Texas. He knew that she was living on her parents ranch, something he had learned during his fall break visit. Allison licked her lips and looked down at the box. 

            “I guess your mother thinks one thing and you think another,” Allison said. 

            “No, she’s right, I am thinking about marriage again,” Jake said. 

            “Oh! Well, can I meet her? Your mother says she’s a real sweet girl. Cute, young, a writer. You really have a type don’t you.” 

            “She’s not here.” 

            “No?” Allison asked, cocking her head to the side. Jake hated when she did that. Allison was a smart woman, graduating Magna Cum Laude from the college of Business at Boston. She didn’t need to play dumb to get her way, but she did it anyway. And it irritated the hell out of Jake. 

            “She’s in LA, studying under Doctor Hoffman.” 

            “So it is true. . .  Nancy had said something but I didn’t think you’d be that dumb to risk your career,” Allison shook her head, “Does she know about our rendezvous?” 

            “No, and she never fucking will,” Jake snapped, “Give me the ring and go home. You have no more business here in Boston. And whatever shit of mine you find in the future, just send it to me. I don’t want to see your face again.” 

            Allison clenched her jaw and set the ring box in his hand. He snatched his hand back and turned towards his office. 

            “She won’t be enough for you!” Allison yelled. Jake stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, “She’s too young and you know that. You can say all you want that you are okay with the way things are right now, but you are lying to yourself. You want things that she won’t give to you.” 

            Jake shook his head with a laugh, “And that’s where you are wrong, Allison. She gives me everything that I need. . . She gives me love.” 

            When Jake got to his office, Bob scrambled away from the door, as if he was not watching out the large window at the interaction between exes. Bob busied himself looking at the bookshelf as Jake slammed the door shut and walked over to his desk. He sat down with a loud sigh and Bob looked over at his friend. 

            “So you are proposing to Y/N?” Bob asked gently. 

            “Remember back in November when I went home?” Jake asked and Bob nodded, “My mom gave me my grandmother’s ring. . . to give to Y/N. And I totally freaked the fuck out. We got into a fight and I said things to her that I should’ve never said. And she ended up just leaving the next day.” 

            “Jesus,” Bob rubbed his head, “That’s why Zeke left the lab so quickly. I thought maybe the house was on fire or something, he left so quickly. So, then what did you do?” 

            Jake scratched the back of his head, and let out a sigh, “Hooked up with Allison.” 

            “No, Jake, what the hell?” 

            Jake shook his head, “I was drunk, a-and I know that’s not an excuse.” 

            It was the wrong place at the wrong time. Allison was sitting in the dimly lit bar, her skin glowing under the harsh red neon lights of the bar sign. Jake had every intention of ignoring the sight of her, drinking his bourbon in silence, but she sat down next to him. He was cold, and brash, not trying to engage in conversation with her. But she placed a perfectly manicured hand on his arm, and ran her heeled foot up his calf. She knew how to make him crumble and she did it so perfectly. Jake grabbed her wrist and dragged her to her out front of the bar. The sex was rough, it was nothing compared to the passion and intimacy Jake had with you a night prior. Jake didn’t even cum, he pushed Allison off of himself and went into the bathroom of her childhood bedroom. He hung his head in shame and cried. 

            “I intended to fix things when I came home, but she had that fucking kid over,” Jake rolled his eyes. 

            “Derek?” Bob asked and Jake nodded. 

            “How did you know?” 

            “He’d come into the lab when Zeke was there. I never quite liked him. Thought he was a pompous ass.” 

            “He is,” Jake agreed, “And then graduation, I went, like you suggested and she ignored me. So I went over that night and wanted to apologize for everything but Derek was there.” 

            “Did you punch him?” 

            “No, but Zeke did. Kid’s got a killer right hook.” 

            “Of course he does,” Bob puffed his chest out in pride, “So what happened next?” 

            “You know what happened next. She left for Berkeley.” 

            That wasn’t entirely true, and Jake knew it as he looked at the photo booth picture strip of the two of you. You had an identical one hanging up on your bulletin board above your desk. For nearly two months, you and Jake dated like a normal couple. He took you for dates or cooked for you. He had finally come over to your house for a date (which was a bit weird with Lucy and Zeke). The two of you were nearly inseparable during that time, but like always, it was destined to fail. Jake knew that there was a looming deadline on the relationship, with you moving to California. He tried to shake it, every single time he held you in his arms or kissed you, but it was like his heart couldn’t just forget. 

            “I know she’s in California, but what happened? Are you two-” 

            “No,” Jake said, his green eyes shifting over to the letter you had sent him when you first moved out there. He was yet to read it, so it sat on his desk, unopened, “We did what we do best. Break each other's hearts.” 

            You tried not to focus on the polaroid picture that you had framed on your desk. You should’ve been looking over a list of pre-course reading material, but instead your eyes were locked on that photo. It was your last night in Boston. Jake took you out to eat at a very fancy restaurant, one that you had only dreamed of going to, he even invited Lucy and Zeke to come with. He had bought you a new dress to wear, wanting you to feel special on your last night. It was special, you were spending it with the three people who meant the most to you. You thought everything was going well. Jake invited everyone back to his house for drinks that night. The picture of you and Jake was taken in his backyard, next to a fire pit as you sat on his lap, his arms wrapped around you, two bright smiles on your faces. 

            It was after Zeke and Lucy left that everything seemed to hit the fan. You laid your head on Jake’s chest, still covered in a thin layer of sweat from rolling in the sheets. He ran his hand lazily down your spin. The thought had been playing in his head all week as you were verifying things for your move. 

            “You know, Boston has a nice grad program,” Jake said and you nodded, “Really good actually. It’s right here at home, you wouldn’t have to move across the country. You could be here with Lucy and help her-” 

            “What are you doing?” You asked, lifting yourself up and looking at him, “I know Boston has a good program. I looked at it. But Berkeley is my dream.” 

            “Couldn’t your dream be here?” 

            You raised your eyebrows in shock, “You want me to stay?” 

            “Well yeah, I do. I love you, why wouldn’t I want you to be here with me.” You shook your head and pulled back the covers, “Where are you going?” 

            “To Berkeley, Jake,” You said, grabbing your underwear, “Jake, this. . . Doctor Hoffman’s program has been my dream for as long as I can remember.” 

            “Dreams change.” 

            “Not this one,” You said, finishing putting your clothes back on, “This one will never change. And you know that. I can’t believe you’d even suggest that I stay here and pass up on my dream.” 

            “Well shit, I didn’t think staying with me was so fucking horrible.” 

            “Oh don’t even start,” You pointed at him, “Jake, this time I have spent with you has been the best time of my life. But I have worked too hard on this to let it go.” 

Jake stood up from the bed, walking to you. He grabbed your face in his hands, lifting it slightly to look at you. He had tears in your eyes, as you had tears in yours. 

“Please, think about it. If I can promise you a job-” 

“No Jake,” You shook your head, and grabbed his hands, “I have thought about it. And I am going to California. I am going to Berkeley. Whether that’s with your support or not. I’m going.” 

“So this is it. You’re going to get on that plane tomorrow and leave.”

“I am, Jake,” You said. 

 Jake sniffled, “I love you.” 

“And I love you too,” You said and ran your thumb over his hand. You leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, “Goodbye, Jacob.” 

— — — 

AUGUST

The summer went by quickly, and before you knew it, you were picking up your textbooks and getting to meet some of the students in the grad program. You hadn’t quite met anyone who was like Lucy and Zeke, and you stopped trying to find someone like that. Lucy was busy getting ready for her first job at the Boston Post and Zeke was working full time in Bob’s lab. You haven't heard from Jake since you left for California. There was no text, no calls, no nothing. You knew the phone worked both ways, but you were too stubborn to make the first move. 

Campus was busy. There was a certain excitement in the air as the incoming freshmen were moving into dorms, various clubs and activities flooded central campus to promote themselves. You walked around central campus, just trying to find something to do. You couldn’t sit and stare at the computer screen or go over your schedule anymore. Lucy had called you this morning to see if you were excited for classes to get started, and you were. You were also sad, you were about to embark on a new journey, all by yourself. 

You let out a sigh as you looked around, seeing tearful parents drop off their children. You could remember when Ethan and Zeke helped move you in your freshman year. There were no tears, just an awkward hug from your brother. You wondered if your mother would’ve cried. You know she would’ve, she was always the crier.

Shaking your head, you started the trek back to your apartment. You couldn’t stand all the cheer on campus, and wanted to dwell in the comfort of your apartment with Tybalt. You rolled your eyes as your phone started to ring, knowing it was probably Zeke for the fifth time today. Without looking, you swiped the accept button and held it to your ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey,” You froze as you heard his voice. You hadn’t heard it in over seven months. You almost started to forget what it sounded like. 

“Jake?” 

“Yeah,” Jake answered, “How are you? Settling in?” 

“I’m good. I’ve been busy. Still unpacking some things.” 

“Really? Cause it looks like you are standing in the middle of central campus.” You felt your heart stop, and tears welled up in your eyes, “Turn around, baby.” 

You dropped your phone from your ear and turned around. There he was, standing there amongst the crowd. His green eyes were locked on you. Jake held orange roses in his hand. You took off running towards him, moving through the crowd. Jake caught you in his arms, holding you tightly in his arms. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, pulling away from him. 

“Did you really think I was going to let my girl move across the country by herself?” 

taglist: @zetasaturno99 @tallrock35 @bioodforbiood @mak-32 @cherrycola27 @drunkangels @fuckyeahhangman @the-winter-marvel33 @oldnatgwenaccount @cm27078 @xoxabs88xox @paige-alexandra-may @ereardon @marantha @callsign-phoenix @bradleybeachbabe @manunitedgotbruno @mulletmcghee @moonvr @nagygreta @cherryobx @callsign-joyride @blue-aconite @books-for-summer @violyn20 @lilylilyyyyyy @p1nkbarbi3 @princessofglitterland @hallway5 @thedroneranger @chaoticweirdogeek @abaker74 @auroraboreallisfine @materialgirl01 @fandom-princess-forevermore @averyhotchner @thedaredevilsgirl @shelbycillian @currentlybradshaw @mavesiceroo @emptyloverofmine @lovingjakeseresin @thegoddessc @techni-coloured @shawnsblue @captainmarvels-blog

Note: I'm not sure if I'm 100% over this series yet, cause I can't end things to save my damn life. . . so be on the look out for blurbs possibly an epilogue.

But here's the tag list for 'What to Expect'

[manicplank]

What cars do the pt crew drive? If they even drive at all

Cars!

Peppino: He drives a little shitbox. Probably an old ass Honda Civic or Chevy Malibu. He also has a moped scooter he uses for delivering pizzas. If it's rainy or cold, he uses his car.

Gustavo: He probably has a modified car with long pedals because he's so short. I can see him driving one of those box cars.

Mr. Stick: An SUV for sure. He used to have a sedan, but he kept hitting his head getting in and out because he's so tall. If I had to be specific, he'd drive a Jeep Cherokee.

Pepperman: He drives a car in the end credits, so whatever tf that is. Has to drive something with no roof since he's gigantic.

The Vigilante: He can drive a tractor, but he can't drive a car because he technically doesn't have legs.

The Noise: A Cadillac CTS-V. Super nice car. Acts like it isn't super nice, but he loves it.

Noisette: She has a cute little Hyundai Accent. It's decorated inside with all sorts of stickers as well as a pink fluffy steering wheel cover. (However, she drives Noise's car a lot, too.)

Fake Peppino:

Pizzahead: He probably has something super nice like a Mercedes C-Class. He acts like he's rich (he has so much credit card debt).

Pillar John: Can't drive as he can't fit inside a car.

Gerome: Can't drive as he only fits in the back seat due to his shape.

[memobread]

cozy househusband wes borland fluffy smutty wutty

Hi guys! I just got out of school for the summer, so im just starting to recover from the stress that's been keeping me from writing. Aaanyway, here's sum wes pics and a short lil fic i wrote while u wait for the jd fic :D.

contains: thigh riding (reader doing), mutual masturbation (kinda??), established marriage, daddy kink, househusband manwhore wes

Honorable mention: @are-we-really-doing-this

================================================================================================

You could barely keep your eyes open as you parked your 2006 Honda Accord next to your small, shacky house. It was around midnight that night and you didn't have work the next day, so you originally planned to sleep right away. However, when you stepped inside, you could see Wes watching TV wearing nothing but a pair of red briefs. He looked like he was waiting for you.

"Oh hey babe, how was work?" Wes asked, turning his attention to you.

You slinked over to him and plopped down on his knee, facing him as you buried your face in his neck.

"Hhhhhhnnnnnnggggg..." You croaked, wriggling up to him to get closer.

Wes laughed and held you, rubbing your back gently.

"Bad?"

You nodded before nipping at his neck, making him yelp.

"Poor baby..." Wes cooed, kissing the side of your head.

He played with your hair while watching Seinfeld, occasionally letting out his sexy little chuckle. As time went by, you started sliding down his thigh, so you scooted up, but harder than you imagined. This sent a little wave of pleasure shaking your little pussy as you awoke, now more alert than before. You had been abstinent from sex because of how busy you were, and you didn't have time to relieve yourself, so you were as sensitive as ever. You felt every ounce of burning tension in your lower body start to slowly push your hips back and forth, tightening your grip around his bare shoulders. He made a humming noise to say, "just what do you think you're doing?"

"Hmm...someone's needy, aren't they?" Wes whispered.

You suddenly felt a twinge of embarrassment, like you were a stray dog humping someone's leg. You stopped and tried to get off of him, but he pulled you right back down and grabbed the back of your neck.

"I didn't tell you to stop."

Before you could respond, Wes slid his hands down to your ass and started guiding your hips back and forth.

"Fuck your sweet little pussy on me..."

You nodded shakily, moving your hips against his thick, solid thigh and breathing heavily into his ear, trying to get the same angle that made you feel so good before.

"Here, let's take these jeans off, hm?" Wes said in a low voice, undoing your belt, and unzipping your large, baggy jeans, and pulling down your undies. Once they were tossed on the floor with your shoes, Wes pressed you down onto him, reveling in the way you fell apart for him; how you would work so hard and do your job so well like an adult, then turn into a little depraved cutie once you were in Wes's hands.

"I love how I can just put you however I want, baby...You're so tiny and-"

Wes kissed your neck.

"-customizable in my hands..."

You whimpered at his contact with your neck; the way his beard tickled your sensitive spots and how his low, baritone voice was right in your ear.

"Da...ddy..." You mewled quietly into his shoulder, pawing at his back like a little kitten.

He awwed at your cute timidness and rested his hands on your ass, gently guiding your desperate hips. When you hit an especially sweet spot, you squeaked, curling up and groping at his bare skin, driving him balls-to-the-wall insane.

"Fuuuuuck, I need to touch myself...you're so damn adorable it drives me nuts..."

Without any further notice, Wes sprung his cock from the confines of his briefs and slid his hand to meet your pussy.

"You're soaking wet for me, baby, fuuuck..."

He slid his hand under your pussy, and you stopped to let him play with you. You threw your head back and tried clamping your thighs together when Wes started blessing your clit with wet flicks from side to side.

"...oh my god, wes...that feels so good..." You moaned pathetically, bucking your hips into his hand.

He hummed sweetly and took his hand out, making you whine.

"Baby, this is for my cock..."

With that hand, he stroked himself firmly and groaned, throwing his head back. You took the opportunity to attack his neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses and bites, making him whimper loudly as you bucked your hips faster, desperate to cum. Your drenched pussy lips were spread apart by Wes's sexy thigh, your clit reveling in direct exposure to Wes's skin. The little hairs on his leg poked you in just the right way, making you wetter and wetter by the minute. Your messy cunny was dripping, soaking Wes's thigh as you slipped and slid back and forth, already nearing your orgasm.

"Wait for me, baby...Wait for me..."

You obeyed, painfully edging yourself on his leg, seeing his beautiful, intense features, and trying not to cream everywhere. It drove Wes insane to see you edge your clit so painfully on his leg, twitching and writhing in his lap.

"Oh god, daddy, please!!”

"Oh god, fuck, fuck, yes, princess... cum for me and I'll- fuck! - cum for you..."

You reached your peak speed, as did he.

"Daddy, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!! Fuck!!"

"Oh god, Y/N, me too, fuuuuck!!! Cum for me...cum all over my leg like a good little pup..."

With that, you both came undone all over each other; you soaked his leg and your juices dripped onto the couch he sat on, and he spurted hot, milky cum out of his hard, throbbing cock and splattered it all over your shirt. You gripped him tightly and twitched against him, slowly easing yourself down from your high. You collapsed beside him, your pussy red and throbbing, watching Wes tuck his convulsing cock back into his briefs.

"...that was amazing..." You panted, snuggling up to Wes.

He held you in his arms and wrapped the two of you in a soft, fluffy blanket.

"You should have exhausting overtime days more often..."

You snickered, playfully biting his pec.

"Sure, sure..."

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

this is a kei truck appreciation post. little guys of all time :')

here's a couple i've seen around in my state. i think the white one is a honda acty, idk about the other one bc i didn't get to see the make before it drove off (you don't have to ID it unless you want to tho). they're such cute little trucks, i wanna drive one so bad 😭❤️

THANK YOU I LOVE THEM. i saw a suzuki carry yesterday and it literally made my day after a long ass day at work. little pockets of sunshine on wheels. to me

(i think the green one might be a subaru sambar)

[ellenchain]

Which are the preferred personal vehicles of 47, Diana, Lucas and Olivia?

I know that 47 has access to the hearse in Freelancer and while that is his brand of humor, I don't see him using it much.

I bet Lucas had a bike he drove recklessly after he escaped from the institute (misquoting B99's Hitchcock, he has nothing left to live for and drives like it). But after he got Olivia, he upgraded to a car. But I can't decide if it's funnier if he goes directly to a football mom suv or if he drives something like a muscle car and only when someone makes an offhand comment on its safety, he switches to the suv. (Hi Mr Grey. Olivia is settling in nicely. Is it true you drove her in an Impala? My husband has one as his project car and those safety ratings are terrible, I would never pick up my kids in one. .......Haha, of coirse I wouldn't either, my car's at the garage nd this is just a rental........fuck).

Diana probably has a landrover, reinforced like a small tank.

I bet Olivia drives a cute hybrid or electrical car.

47.....sleek Italian sports car? In black, of course.

oh boy how I LOVE that question! Honestly, I've been thinking about that quite a lot recently, I don't even know why, but it crossed my mind

And I like your headcanon, which I absolutely agree with! They probably all have several cars, they are rich, they can drive whatever they want. But there are one or two cars that I associate with them…

I think 47 loves cars, especially old cars. He certainly has a penchant for spending his money on classics. But an everyday car? Next to his many sports cars (e.g. Lamborghini Aventador)? Probably a rich (old) person one like a Porsche Panamera (in red because it's probably his favourite colour, I mean his tie is always red):

But I think he prefers to drive his classics. Unfortunately I don't know much about them, but he seems to love this black one in Freelancer a lot!

I can well imagine Diana in a sleek little sports car. She certainly has to get around a lot and quickly. Power woman style (but still reinforced like a small tank, as you say. She knows her enemies and how to protect herself from them). I think Diana has a lead foot on the highway (that's what we say in Germany when you drive way too fast) So why not an Audi R8 in blue? Her little show-off car

47 loves driving in it. But not so much when Diana is at the wheel (vroom vroom)

Ohhh Olivia, our cute little mouse, must have been driving around in a junk car for many years. But she values environmental protection, so she got herself a small, affordable electric car recently (after the old car died). Everyone thinks the car is ugly, but she loves her green box a lot, her Honda e:

(this car is so ugly, it's insane)

And Lucas. Oh, he probably sees cars purely as a commodity. And yes, he certainly made sure to drive a decent car in Olivia's school days so that no one would be suspicious, but I think he has several cars (despite being against capitalism). One for missions, where you get a lot in, get through every terrain, etc., probably a Dodge Ram 1500:

(I don't know much about American cars, but here in Europe these things are way too big for our streets and are more used by hunters or forestry workers because you can pack a lot onto the loading area)

He probably has a small SUV for everyday use (in the city), because the weapons have to go somewhere, right? A Dacia Duster is probably something for him - relatively cheap, yet robust, not a posh car, just an SUV:

(I'm starting to get the feeling that I am going to sell you a few cars)

BUT in the depths of his garage in Berlin he has his greatest treasure, his old Opel Corsa B in mint green:

This thing has seen a lot and is 30 years old. All doors except the driver's door can only be opened from the inside, the boot can no longer be locked properly and when you hit the gas pedal, the car only gets louder and not faster. Air conditioning: Roll down the windows manually. But he loves it with all his heart and enjoys driving around Berlin at weekends to get a Döner at his favourite Döner stand 💘

(47 only drives with Lucas in absolute emergencies in this car, which sometimes makes strange noises and the lack of insulation makes it feel like your arse is about to hit the road. 140 km/h (around 85 mph) with this car is like a death sentence, but Lucas has fun)

[kingofsummer93]

Prompts 9 and/or 64 for Elucien pls!

also, I think 10 would definitely a tired, over it, exasperated Lucien would say 😂

Chaotic Writing Prompts

9- Get in the fucking blanket fort / 64-Pay attention to me, I’m cute and needy.

For @sjmromanceweek Day 2 : Love Language

Elain and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.7K

read it on Ao3

As far as Valentine's Day celebrations went, this one was on its way to becoming the worst in Elain’s entire life. She would have gladly relived her awkward first kiss at the 9th grade winter formal over this hellish day.

She was tired, she was hungry, she was more than a little cranky, and she was driving home through the worst blizzard of the year. And to top it all off, her husband was currently out of town on a business trip, during what should have been their first Valentines Day as a married couple.

It wasn’t his fault, of course. Lucien had seriously suggested feigning an illness to get out of it, and had only gone after Elain had practically shoved him into the Uber.

Still, she knew it was just a silly holiday, but she couldn’t help it- she loved Valentine’s Day. She loved the heart-shaped candies, and the decorations, and dinners in candle-lit restaurants. Or maybe she simply loved love, and any excuse to celebrate it. Lucien had promised they would celebrate when he got back, but she couldn’t help her disappointment.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do Galentine’s Day?” Vassa’s voice was barely discernible over the sound of the heat blasting in her car. “I can cancel our dinner reservation. You know how much Jurian hates Valentine’s Day anyway.”

Elain sighed, for perhaps the thousandth time that day. “I love you for suggesting it but no. I had a bad day and I’m just being dramatic.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, hun, but I’m going to stab my coworker to death and eat her heart for lunch sounds like a little more than a bad day.”

“That bitch probably doesn’t even have a heart anyway,” Elain mumbled darkly.

Vassa cackled, her laughter punctuated by the unmistakable sound of a bottle of wine opening in the background.

Wine. That was what she needed. Wine and a bubble bath, followed by a big bowl of popcorn and more wine.

“I”m fine,” she said again, as much to convince herself as Vassa. “I’m just going to put on some sweats, watch a movie and drown my sorrows in wine. Lucien said he’d facetime me if his meetings ended early, anyway.”

She didn’t add that Lucien hadn’t sounded convinced that he could make this happen, considering he was currently in a different time zone and his work days had been ending at 10 pm.

“Throw in a gin and tonic for good measure. And maybe a green vegetable.”

“Yes mom!”

“And Elain- please don’t stab anyone tonight! Although, Valentine’s Day Stabber does have a ring to it…”

Elain let out a puff of laughter, some of the day’s tension easing from her shoulders. “I promise no stabbing. Although I make no promises on strangulation.”

“That’s my girl. Love you.”

“Love you too. Go torture Jurian with lots of lovey-dovey stuff.”

“Hey! I heard-”

Vassa’s cackles were cut off as her friend promptly disconnected, and Elain could only laugh again as she pictured the look of exaggerated affront that would currently be on Jurian’s face.

Her briefly heightened spirits quickly fell, however, as she turned into her driveway and her little Honda skidded over the snow already accumulated there. She needed a new car. And a house with a garage.

Or maybe she just wanted her husband to be waiting for her inside, ready to wrap her in a bear hug and listen patiently to her whine about her shitty day.

No mopping. It’s just a stupid holiday, it doesn’t mean anything.

Her phone pinged, as if mocking her.

Heading into the afternoon conference. It’s BOILING hot here. Hope you’re not getting buried in snow! Shovel is in the shed if you need it.

Elain grumbled all the way to her front door, cursing both her husband and the snow sinking into her boots and soaking through her socks. She peeled her off her wet parka and boots and walked upstairs to her bedroom, deciding her priority number one was putting on her oldest, comfiest sweats. Her bedroom door was half open, and once glance inside made her stop dead in her tracks.

Somebody was in her house.

Not only was somebody in her house, but somebody had turned her bedroom into a giant blanket fort. Sheets and blankets were draped over the bed, looping over the ceiling fan to create a makeshift tent. String lights were strung over the headboard, illuminating the inside of the blanket fort.

Enough so that she could see the outline of someone lying on her bed.

Elain gasped and froze in shock, her heart jumping into her throat. She stood there for another beat, heart racing, as she mentally went through the list of people with a key to her house.

Lucien, who had just gone into a conference in California, thousands of miles away.

Vassa, who she had just spoken to on the phone.

And her sisters, who she knew for a fact were both occupied with their respective boyfriends tonight.

Elain turned and ran, practically tripping down the stairs as she went. Just as she was diving for her cell phone loud footsteps sounded overhead.

For one wild, hysterical moment she considered running to the kitchen and grabbing her biggest chef’s knife.

Valentine’s Day Stabber; Woman Stabs Intruder with Kitchen Knife!

The footsteps had started down the stairs. Elain clutched her cell phone in her hand, fingers poised over the emergency call button, and yanked her front door open.

“Love? Where are you going?”

The male voice trickling down the staircase was deep and rumbling, tinged with humor.

It was also very, very familiar.

Elain whirled on the spot, her heart still racing with adrenaline, and came face to face with the sight of her husband grinning at her. His white shirt was rumpled, his long red hair falling out of a messy bun, his lips curved into an infuriatingly playful grin.

“Lucien!” Elain clapped a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to slow down. “God! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry!” He held up his palms, grin widening, not even looking a little bit sorry. The little shit.

“It’s not funny! I thought you were an intruder! I almost went to the kitchen to grab a knife!”

Lucien was trying not to laugh now, his chest heaving as he suppressed his chuckles. Elain had a sudden urge to throttle him. Maybe she hadn’t been wrong about the strangulation thing.

“Not the Imarku! That was a wedding gift!” He was full-on laughing now, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Elain growled in frustration and ran up the stairs, unsure if she wanted to tackle him and kiss him or tackle him and punch him. Before she could make up her mind Lucien laughed again and bounded up the stairs two at a time, disappearing into their bedroom.

“Come back here you little shit!”

“I can’t believe you thought an intruder had made you a blanket fort!”

“I will murder you!”

Elain reached the top of the stairs just in time to see Lucien dive-bomb into the mass of sheets and blankets over their bed.

“Get in the blanket fort!”

“No. I’m mad at you.” She crossed her arms over her chest for emphasis, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Get in the fucking blanket fort!”

“No!”

“Come pay attention to me, I’m cute and needy.” Lucien stuck his head out of the fort, pouting at her. His hair was even more mussed, his eyes still shining with delight. Damn him. Damn him and his stupidly beautiful face.

In three rapid steps Elain had crossed the room and launched herself into his arms, tackling him backwards onto the bed.

“I’m cute and needy,” she whined, face pressed against his chest. His familiar spicy, musky scent filled her nostrils. “And I had a shit day and I missed you.”

Lucien’s arms tightened around her as he buried his face in her face. “I missed you too, my love. So much.”

There was nothing but sincerity in his voice now, and all of Elain’s anger melted away. She lifted her hair and peered around the blanket fort, giggling as she took in the sight. The bed was piled high with pillows and cushions, forming a little nest underneath the canopy of sheets and blankets. The string lights draped over the headboard gave the space a cozy, warm glow. A laptop was plugged in and opened to the Netflix romantic comedy section, and next to it sat a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, and a large bowl of buttered popcorn.

Lucien smiled sheepishly. “The conference ended a day early and I thought it would be fun to surprise you. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Elain squeezed him tighter, burying her face against him again. “I’m sorry I almost stabbed you with our Imarku.”

Lucien’s laugh vibrated against her cheek. He dipped a finger under her chin and Elain angled her face up for a kiss, sighing at the familiar feel of his lips against hers.

“Hi,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against her lips.

“Hi.” She giggled again as he nuzzled her nose. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too. Tell me all about your shitty day.”

“It’s not a shitty day anymore. Now it’s a great day.”

“Indeed. The day you almost stabbed an intruder for making you a blanket fort.”

Elain punched him in the shoulder, shaking her head at him.

“We can go out for dinner, if you’d rather,” Lucien added. “But the weather is so bad I thought it’d be fun to have a cozy night in.”

“No!” Elain exclaimed, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “I love my blanket fort. We should leave it like this. Although…”

“Yes?” Lucien asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Elain glanced at his rumpled dress shirt, then at her own wrinkled top, feeling her strapless bra digging into her skin.

“Can we change into sweats?”

Lucien grinned again, wickedly this time. “Yes, after.”

Elain bit her lip. She knew that grin. “After what?” she asked, blinking up at him innocently.

She yelped as Lucien smoothly flipped them so he hovered over her. “After you pay attention to me. I’m cute and needy, remember?”

“You’re also an idiot.”

“Ahh, yes, but you love me.”

Elain hummed noncommittally.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” Lucien whispered.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, you big dummy.”

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: FINAL CHAPTER

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given the choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Characters in this chapter: Dean Winchester, Mrs. Butters (mentioned), Jack Kline, Meg Masters, Billie Pilgrim, Pamela Barnes, Rowena Macleod, Gabriel, Crowley (seen but not heard), Missouri Mosely, Alex Jones (seen but not heard), Lydia, Emma Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Castiel Novak, Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, Casey Wood, Jo Harvelle/Victor Henriksen/Nick Iblis/Zeke Gadreel (mentioned), Sam and Jess Winchester (mentioned), Tessa Porter

Warnings/tags for this chapter: if you've read this far, you're golden xox

Words in this chapter: 5K

Author's note: Cute Sparkle Gryphon Meme

Emma driving is for @stusbunker. Love you, sis.

Thank you to Stu and to my 12yr ride or die @brrose-apothecary for read-throughs and late-night convos and for being my friends.

CHAPTER TEN

A week to the day before Dean is to be released, he and the others say goodbye to Jack. Mrs. Butters in the kitchen helps Dean bake and decorate a cake with a very cool screen print of Red Hood that Pamela found online, and Meg commandeers Jack's phone to add Pamela's, Dean's, and her own contact info to his address book.

"Hope you don't mind if I call you sometime, kid," Dean mutters. 

There's a tight, heavy knot in his chest that he can't loosen. He wants to keep in touch with Jack so he can celebrate his successes. He doesn't want to be the old Dean who keeps in touch out of fear that Jack will stumble with no one around to catch him.

But deeply woven within that knot is an intense foreboding, stoking Dean's fear of letting Jack walk out the door.

"Of course," Jack answers, distracted by his pinging phone, telling him his Uber is one minute down the street. "I'll text you."

Dean nods and chews his lip. "We can trade me-mes," he says, watching the kid not watch him. 

Dean has to actively restrain himself from pushing the flop of hair from across Jack's forehead and demanding the kid's attention. The knot spirals around his organs and rib cage into his gut.

"Meme," Meg says, trying to help Jack straighten the strap of his bag.

"What?" Dean asks.

"It's pronounced meme. Like theme," Meg answers, stepping back into place next to him.

Dean shakes his head as his heart jolts and dives at the sight of the white Honda pulling up in front of the big glass doors.

"Good luck, Jacky." Rowena appears at Dean's other side, looping an arm through the crook of Dean's elbow. "We'll miss you, sweet boy."

Meg mirrors Rowena, hooking her arm through Dean's. Dean drops his chin to his chest with a sigh, realizing how transparent his anxiety is to his friends.

"Ciao, baby," Meg bids the teenager a farewell, watching him stumble over his own sneakers toward the door.

"Bye, guys," Jack calls with a wave. "And thanks for the cake; it was really good!"

And then he's gone.

Dean starts a list of everyone with whom he needs to make amends. Emma's at the top of that list, so he always remembers how far he's come and can fall.

Castiel is the closest second.

Before Emma walked in on him with Max and Anna last year, Dean could sleep at night by telling himself he hadn't imposed on anyone or lied, cheated, or stolen. He told himself that he cleaned up his own messes and that he was just fine with death, closure, and a whole fuckin' bottle of Jack. 

Then he broke his little girl's heart. 

"Do you think you were trying to prove something to Castiel that day?" Billie asked.

"I think you know what I was doin'. Why don't you tell me what I was tryna prove?"

Billie was right as usual; Dean wanted to prove to Cas that he wasn't worthy of Cas's respect. Dean knew that kid was going to die if someone didn't go in there — and probably even if someone did — and he decided to be the kamikaze pilot because fuck everybody who still had faith in him; he wasn't worth their concern.

"The list!" Meg plops into a seat next to him with two cups of coffee. "Dean Bean, that list is hella long. You should pare it back for your first round."

She takes a sip of her coffee, handing him his as she peers over the rim of her cup.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. "Every single person I think of makes my stomach hurt."

"Did you show it to Billie yet?" Meg slides her stocking feet into Dean's lap.

"Not yet. Meetin' with her in 10." He twists in his seat to accommodate her.

Meg nods. "Drink your coffee and keep me entertained ‘til you gotta go."

She burrows into her seat with an impish grin, and Dean smirks back as he sets to work, kneading her heels and thumbing the knotted muscles in her arches.

Four days after Jack, Meg is discharged. Pamela decides to stay beyond her discharge date for extra support from Billie and Cain. 

After their morning hike, Meg and Pamela say their goodbyes, and Pamela heads to Billie's office to plan another family session for the coming weekend. 

Dean waits with Meg for her sister Dani's arrival. Meg is keyed up and wide-eyed in the best way. Her fresh face is framed with braids on either side, compliments of Pamela, her sky blue backpack secured over her (Dean's) too-big hoodie, scuffed-up but neatly tied hiking boots, and softly worn jeans. 

Dean thinks she looks like she's headed off to college with her entire life ahead of her, and he thinks that look is fitting as fuck.

"I put Dani's number in your phone; she still has a landline." Meg rolls her eyes as she absently twists the straps of her backpack.

Mere days before Meg was admitted to rehab, Dani inherited their childhood home and land after months of legal battles surrounding the farm. After she and Meg made amends, they planned to renovate the old farmhouse together. Meg told Dean how thankful she is to have the project to keep her on her toes, not to mention her adopted niece Kaia. 

Meg's phone chimes with a text from Dani.

"She's just around the corner," Meg breathes, flicking her eyes to meet Dean's. "Three days?"

"You got it, sister." Dean pulls her in for a hug. "I'll be outta here, and we'll be 2.1 together. Right?"

"Right."

Last week, Dean and Meg realized that they had grown up less than 10 miles apart. There's not even one excuse Dean can think of to not continue their morning hikes and coffee at least once a week, and he can't wait to witness Meg's inevitable bloom outside this place. 

He sees Dani pull up and releases Meg. 

"Keep an eye on PB," Meg murmurs, pulling away and not quite meeting Dean's eyes.

Dean nods silently as Meg drops her gaze to her feet and shuffles toward the door.

"Goodbye, love!" Rowena calls from the lobby's catwalk, and Meg looks up with a wide grin and a wave.

"Take care, kiddo!" Gabe waves from beside Rowena, with Crowley lurking behind them both.

Dean wins Meg's gaze one last time before she finally climbs up inside her sister's Jeep. 

"How are you feeling about everything, Dean?" Billie asks.

He's nervous and excited, a little bit scared but mostly hopeful. He's determined to make amends with people and looks forward to seeing his little girl outside therapy and hugging his niece and nephew.

"Good," Dean answers.

Dean doesn't fool himself into believing he can repair all of his faults in 28 days. His provisional relationship with Billie was hard-won. He respects her knowledge and advice, but he'll never be open enough with her to tell her everything.

"Good," she replies. "Don't forget — 90 meetings in 90 days. Look for a sponsor..."

Billie rattles off the rules that Dean used to consider common sense. After the last few weeks, though, Dean has realized how bogus the phrase common sense is because so many people walk around without knowledge that Dean's taken for granted since he can remember knowing anything. The fact that that phrase masquerades itself as a universal truth is kind of bullshit, in Dean's opinion.

"Yeah, I remember: how long have they been sober; are they full of shit; do I like them—"

"You know I have to say these things, right?" Billie smirks and arches a brow.

Dean chuckles and nods. "Am I stealin' your thunder?"

Billie actually laughs.

The night before he leaves, Dean does all his laundry except his pajamas and packs his bag. He leaves the bag on what was Jack's bed six days ago, denying the 47th urge to call the kid because he promised himself he wouldn’t call Jack before Jack called him. 

In the dark of night, the emotions he accepted earlier at face value become garbled and daunting. He starts to see the edges of rational thought being peeled back by the demons lurking in his subconscious, slithering out to tell him that he's foolish and undeserving and will fail.

The sober experience of his darker cognition is fascinating and frightening. He takes a good chunk of time lying there, stunned to his core that he was ever blind enough to fall for this.

"Fuck off," he mutters as he rolls to his side. "I'm gettin' the fuck outta here and on with my life."

The next morning, Dean and Pamela go for a hike like usual. They have coffee, and she sits with him while he smokes.

"You gonna be OK?" he asks.

"What, without you and Megan, the 2.1 twins?"

Dean startles at Pamela's tone and arched brow.

He never meant for anyone, not even Crowley, to hear his and Meg's 2.1 mantras. It was never about their lack of faith in anyone else. It was always about their bond and shared need to hear it from the other one to get them through.

"You're not subtle, either of you," she drolls, shifting her gaze to the woods. 

"PB..."

"It's fine, Dean." She peeks back at him. "And, yes, I'll be fine, too. Once I get my ground legs back and earn more trust from my mother-in-law."

"Sammy can help, ya know," Dean reminds her of when Sam visited and heard her case. He told Dean on the spot that he wanted to help her, and Dean wasted no time relaying the message and ensuring Pamela had Sam's phone number and email address.

"He can, legally, and I'll call him." Pamela nods, keeping her eyes on the wooded area just beyond the deck where she and Dean had just walked and laughed. "But Jesse's mom hasn't let me forget for one second how much she doesn't trust me."

Dean doesn't take his eyes off Pamela's trembling profile. "Then make her."

Pamela blinks and inhales a stuttering breath before glancing over at Dean with watery eyes. She sniffles as she accepts Dean's open, outstretched hand to squeeze. 

"Thank you," she whispers, letting the tears fall. "I'm gonna miss you, ya little shit."

Dean laughs as he pulls her in for a hug.

At 12:25 PM, Pamela is seated on the desk, arching across the expanse to help Alex pick a dress for her sorority's spring formal, Rowena is explaining to Missouri the plot of the last murder mystery she starred in, and Gabriel is practically gnawing Dean's ear from the side of his head with small-talk. 

"Gabe?"

"Yeah, man," Gabe turns to face Dean head-on, cracking his knuckles and bouncing on his toes.

"I'm gonna need you to dial back the Tigger impression by at least five clicks, OK, because I'd like to be somewhat chill when my kid gets here to pick me up."

"Oh! Right. Yes." Gabe salutes Dean before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning back to watch the door. He mutters chill to himself a couple of times before the familiar deep blue BMW rolls up in front of the door.

"Oh, my word, look at that," Rowena marvels as she and Pamela join Dean and Gabe at the door. "The wee lass is all grown up! Ye must be so proud, Dean."

Dean nods. Emma's a gift that he'll work the rest of his life to deserve getting, and he'll always be proud of her. But his heart fumbles over the fact that he missed the milestone of being the one to teach her to drive.

Lydia steps out of the passenger side, waving from the curb.

"Well, go on," Pamela encourages Dean. "Get out there and show 'em what you're made of, Daddy."

Dean's heart swells to near bursting as he hugs everyone goodbye, including Missouri and Alex.

"You take good care of yourself, Dean Winchester," Missouri says with a kind Missouri smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he nods before scanning the faces of his friends and walking out the door into his future.

"How's the Casbah sound?" Lydia asks from the back seat.

Dean loves the Casbah, and Lydia knows that, but he can't answer her; he's too busy watching his baby girl drive a fucking car.

Lydia shifts forward as Emma signals, checks her mirrors, and carefully changes lanes. 

"Pretty wild, huh?" she mutters over Dean's shoulder. "Just yesterday, you were teaching her to ride a bike."

Dean huffs a small chuckle and nods his head. "Straight from a trike to a two-wheeler. No trainin’ wheels for my girl."

Emma rolls her eyes over a blush and a sheepish grin. "So. Casbah?"

"Casbah," Dean confirms with a grin of his own, turning his shaded gaze toward the horizon.

"Hi," he starts, glancing around a circle of people of all ages and walks of life. "I'm... Dean. And I'm an alcoholic and addict."

"Hi, Dean," from the crowd.

Dean nods and draws a deep breath, struggling to keep his head up and maintain eye contact with each person. Ugly fears and insecurities threaten his spirit, but he shoos them away.

"I'm 28 days sober, and I feel... good. Went to dinner with my little girl tonight. She and her mom're waitin' for me down the street at the ice cream place." 

The strangers in the circle fidget, mumble, and nod. The tension he feels is all about himself and his inability to just blend the fuck in. He knew doing this all over again with a new group of people would be hard. Then, his eyes land on a burly, bearded guy with clear blue eyes and an encouraging smile. He holds the man’s gaze like it’s a life raft.

“I’ve only been out a few hours, so I still have to call and apologize to everyone for fuckin’ up so bad.”

The man nods, shifting forward in interest. The kind of attention the man is giving him might make him feel like a bug under a microscope under other circumstances, but the man’s earnest compassion and engagement serve to embolden Dean.

“The first call’s the biggest, but they’ll all be tough. My buddy — my best friend and former boss — that’s kinda the eye of the storm. I think if I call him first, that’ll help me get through the others.”

It feels good to think out loud and strategize, knowing his audience has been there and done that. Dean’s especially keen to learn where his potential new friend has been.

After the meeting is done, Dean makes his way over to the man in question. There are two other people trying to talk to him, and Dean starts to worry that he’s one of those guys Billie told him about who accepts everyone’s sponsorship request for status or whatever.

“...I know someone I think’ll be a good fit f’you, Sorento. Lemme reach out and see when he might could grab a cuppa coffee.”

“Thanks, Benny. Never thought my sponsor’d fall off the wagon, ya know?”

“I hear ya, brother, and I’m sorry. You take care, and I’ll get right back, ya hear?”

The taller, darker-skinned man nods before backing away, and the other person Dean thought was waiting to talk to Benny follows.

“Hey, Dean.” Benny smiles, extending a hand. “I’m Benny. Glad you could make it tonight.”

Dean nods, accepting Benny’s hand and shaking it. “Thanks, man. I appreciate your support.”

“You’ve got it, brother.” 

They chat about the ins and outs of meetings and sobriety for a few minutes until Dean realizes that Emma and Lydia are still waiting for him. 

“Well, I gotta go catch up with my daughter, but uh... thanks again.” 

Dean shifts his weight, having flashbacks to his teen years and the first time he asked someone out on a date.

“But I was wonderin’ if you were a sponsor to anyone else? Or... if you had room for one more?”

Benny smiles wide and bright. “It’d be an honor, Dean. What’s your number?”

On his first full day outside, at 9 AM, Dean starts dialing numbers.

"Hey, Cas," he pauses to cringe at the tremor in his too-eager voice. "It's uh... it's Dean."

There's a split second of silence, and Dean almost hangs up.

"I know, Dean. I have your contact in my phone with a picture of you and Claire from Thanksgiving."

The memory of that day is bittersweet to Dean for a dozen reasons, not the least of which was Claire's mental health at the time. She'd run away from home less than a week after her mom lost her months-long battle with ovarian cancer. Cas had just gotten Claire back and decided to have a small gathering at their home to celebrate her return.

Claire didn't feel like celebrating.

"He just doesn't understand," Claire whispered through the tears that Dean worked overtime to wipe away.

"Maybe he doesn't understand exactly how you feel, honey, but he does love you."

"Does he even miss her?" Her trembling lip broke Dean's heart all over again.

"I know he misses her. He loved your mom, Claire. So much."

"He's so... happy."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. 'Coz you're home. You're his little girl and his only family. Try to understand that." 

"Dean? Are you— are you there?"

Dean jolts from his reverie and shrugs off Cas's matter-of-fact mention of that day lest it gives his demons the upper hand again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. I'm calling..." Dean takes a deep breath and looks out his kitchen window to watch a couple of squirrels chasing each other through the parking lot. 

"Cas, I'm sorry. You're my best friend, and I love and respect you, but I defied your order and endangered the team. I broke at least four laws that day and put you and the department under scrutiny 'coz of my own fucked up mess. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out that I could help myself and that I'm worth helping, and to stop hurting other people."

Cas is quiet for longer this time. Dean yearns to fill the silence or turn back time or run away and hide. Instead, he breathes through it and waits for whatever response Cas gives him because this is sobriety.

"You made it.” Cas’s tone is full of pride and satisfaction.

Dean anticipated 17 scenarios, but this takes him off-guard. Before he can ask what he means, Cas fills in the blank.

"I read about rehab and the likelihood of people making it through their prescribed programs. The statistics are 30%—"

"Yeah, and my group was only seven people, so 30% is 2.1." Dean can't help but chuckle. Cas doesn't know about his and Meg’s joke, but it doesn't matter because Cas is family, and family just gets it. 

"Well, apart from the impossibility of the existence of .1 of a human being, it's good to hear your voice, Dean. I missed you."

Dean smiles so wide his face hurts. "Missed you too, man. How's Claire?"

Through Cas's heavy sigh, Dean can hear the smile in his voice. "Claire is Claire. She missed you as well. Once you're settled, we want you to come over for dinner."

Cas doesn't rebuke Dean. He doesn't rehash the past. He doesn't tell Dean he can't come back to work — because Cas knows that Dean already knows all of that, and neither of them has time for anything but catching up and reconnecting.

"I'd love it," Dean replies. "Thank you. For accepting my apology and letting me say what I needed."

"Always. I knew you'd make it and that our relationship would endure another shift. We will always be friends, Dean."

After his call with Cas, Dean calls Bobby and Ellen. They're less gracious than Cas with their acceptance, which doesn't surprise Dean.

"You were supposed to protect your team, Dean, not put them in danger!"

Dean doesn’t argue, and he doesn’t make excuses. He listens to Ellen yell and damn him to Hell until she’s crying so hard that Bobby takes the phone away from her.

As Ellen’s sobs fade in the distance, Bobby speaks. “How you holdin’ up, boy?”

“I’m good, Bobby. Thanks for takin’ my call.”

“Never wouldn’t,” Bobby answers. “Stay strong, kid. We both love ya; she just needs some time.”

“I love you, too, Bobby — both of ya.”

Jo flat-out blocks his call. Her resistance surprises him even less than her mother’s ire. He won’t give up on Jo, no matter how hard she makes it for him. He knows deep down that she hasn’t given up on him either.

Casey’s gasp is her answer. 

“Case.”

“You OK?”

“I am. Now.” 

He lets the memories of her soft, dark eyes and gentle, capable hands loving him more than he could bear carry him through the call.

“I’m sorry, Case. I hurt you so many times, and I never made it easy to be with me. You’re a beautiful, beautiful woman, whip fuckin’ smart, and so good.”

“We’ve been over this, Dean...”

Dean doesn’t cut in where she’s left a vacancy. He won’t take advantage of her anymore. He waits for her to pick up her thoughts. He wants her to say what she means.

And she does.

“Dean, I... I’ll never regret you or resent you.”

After a moment.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Dean knows she’s crying.

He calls Victor, Nick, and Zeke, each awkward, compulsory, and hostile, respectively, but being uncomfortable is Dean’s new normal. And, for some reason, he kind of digs it. So, he’ll continue to make amends, no matter how it makes him feel.

After a week outside, Dean and Meg finally find a hiking trail they like and a coffee place they love before hitting the Lowe's Garden Center.

“Is this a joke?” Meg pokes at the limp lavender plant with indignation. “I can’t even believe they have this out for sale.”

“What do you care? We’re not here for lavender.” 

Dean wanders a few paces down the aisle. He’s never tended a plant in his life, so he researched and decided on a spider plant to start.

“Maybe I’m here for lavender.” Meg continues to inspect the small section of drooping topiaries.

Dean stops and glares at her over his shoulder. “You told me you wanted a buncha succulents. You said you wanted a ‘cool little terrarium’ or some shit.”

“Maybe I decided to also get lavender.” Meg shrugs, lifting one of the pathetic florals.

“Now that you’ve seen the stellar selection of lavender?” Dean arches a brow.

“Maybe I want a challenge,” she mutters, squatting with one plant to compare it to another.

“Maybe, maybe, maybe...” Dean rolls his eyes and turns smack into Castiel.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas!” Dean takes a step back, gripping Cas’s shoulders. He can’t believe his luck at seeing him while he’s with Meg.

“Hey, this is my friend, Meg.”

He motions to Meg, who is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with three dead plants in front of her. 

“Meg..." Dean snaps her to attention. "This is Cas.”

Meg blinks up at the men from where she sits on the ground. 

“Well. Hello, Cas.” 

She abandons her brief fascination to stand up and swipe her jeans and hands clean before shaking Castiel’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The fire chief looks adorably confused as usual, as he takes her hand in his. “And I have heard nothing about you.”

Meg side-eyes Dean, and he almost laughs out loud. She’ll drag him later for not telling Castiel about her, but the only reason he didn’t was to let her show him herself.

“Whatcha here for, Cas?” Dean watches his friends reluctantly release each other’s grip.

“Tomato plants and strawberry plants. You know how much sun our side patio gets.”

Dean nods. Before he can reply, his phone buzzes with a text. It’s the notification he set for Pamela, and his gaze darts to Meg, who’s pulling her own phone from her back pocket.

“Hang on, Cas — got a message I need to look at.” Dean pulls his phone from his pocket. When he looks down, his world tilts.

Jack’s back.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters with a sigh before snagging Meg’s worried gaze.

“I take it you’ve received bad news?” Cas asks.

“Well, it ain’t good,” Dean replies, pocketing his phone. “Dinner Thursday?”

“Yes. Claire wants dumplings. I’ve had two failed trial runs making them, so it could be an... interesting meal.”

Meg snorts at Dean’s side, drawing his attention. “Cas’s a terrible cook.”

“No shit?” Meg exaggerates with her hands on her hips.

“I need to go — get the plants and ingredients for tonight’s test.”

Meg stifles a cackle, and Dean hip-checks her. “OK, well, lemme know if I can help with the dumplings, Cas.”

They say their goodbyes, and barely before Castiel is out of earshot, Meg starts in. 

"You didn't tell me your 'weird little friend Cas' was hot, Dean."

Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes. "I thought it was implied when I said you'd like him, Megan. Just gather your sad little flowers so we can go."

“Meh, I want succulents.” 

Dean spends the entire rest day bashing himself for waiting to call Jack. He wanted to give the kid space. He wanted to respect him, and... fuck, he can’t save everyone.

He calls Benny so he doesn’t drag Meg down his rabbit hole.

“Whaddaya want outta this, Dean? To call the kid and gloat?” Benny asks.

Dean cringes. “Is that what it sounds like?”

“Little bit.”

“Man, I’m not tryna be a martyr here; he’s a kid!” Dean really believes what he’s saying just as much as he tries to see what Benny sees.

“He’s a kid, but he ain’t yours, and he ain’t you. Remember your boundaries and your goals.”

Benny’s right, and Dean’s reminded of why he chose him to be his sponsor.

“Thanks, Benny. Thanks for takin’ my call, and thanks for being a great sponsor.” 

That night, Dean stumbles across something online that stuns him for a second. It’s labeled as Cute Gryphon Sparkle Meme. It’s a greyscale drawing of a cartoon gryphon with a sort of paint-by-number chart of how to color it based on your own interpretation of the instructions like “the color that best describes ‘cute’” and “the color that first comes to your head”.

Dean shares the link with Jack, hoping he gets his phone back soon so he can appreciate just how cute it is.

One month, eight hikes with Meg, and three trips to the garden center for more plants (because Dean has now decided that he fucking loves plants) later, a familiar, feminine voice jolts Dean from his reverie in the produce section.

“Dean?” 

He turns from where he’s filling his hand cart with all he needs for the guacamole he’s bringing to Sam and Jess’s tomorrow to find Tessa Porter.

“Tessa!” Dean smiles easily at her smile and how she moves closer to him without hesitation. 

She’s fresh-faced, her hair’s in a ponytail, and she’s wearing workout clothes. Dean drops three good-sized avocados into his basket and turns his back on the vegetables to focus on the woman facing him.

“You look great, Dean. How’ve you been?”

“Thanks! You just come from the gym? You look great, too. Not at all like you just worked out or anything, but fit. Like healthy. And glowing.”

He bites his tongue to stop from shoving his foot down his gullet.

Tessa grins and chuckles quietly, peeking into his basket. “Yoga class. Making some guac?”

Dean draws a breath and nods, looking down at his ingredients. “Yeah. My brother requested it for a cookout tomorrow. He says I make the best guac in three counties.”

Tessa tilts her head and purses her lips. “Hmm. I’ll have to try it sometime.” 

She snags Dean’s gaze, and he’s suddenly out of breath. 

Does she know what he did? Is she hitting on him? Have her eyes always been that color?

“Yeah. I’d uh... I’d like to make it for you sometime.”

Dean swears her irises change color as they stand there — honey to jade to turquoise to cerulean.

After a few beats, Tessa raises her eyebrows. “Are you going to ask me for my number?”

Dean blinks then chuckles, shaking his head. “I gotta ask somethin' else first — you know about rehab, right?”

Tessa nods. “I know. And I know you aren’t supposed to date right away, but... I’d like to be friends. If that’s OK? I’ve missed seeing you around, Dean.”

“Friends,” he echoes skeptically.

He and Tessa never discussed dating before because it would have been against department policy, but that didn’t stop him from flirting with her every chance he had. Still, they had a genuine connection — which is the real reason, even in Dean’s most reckless state, that he never crossed a line with her.

Tessa nods again. “For now — friends. Think you can handle that?”

Dean holds her soft, kaleidoscope gaze for a moment before shifting his basket to his other arm and reaching into his pocket for his phone. 

“Here.” He hands his unlocked phone to Tessa. “I would very much like it if you’d add yourself to my contacts so I can call ya sometime.”

Tessa grins again as she accepts the proffered device to quickly input her name and number. She flicks her eyes to his again as she hands him back his phone.

“I look forward to hearing from you. See you soon, Dean.”

Tessa looks him up and down before turning on her heel and sauntering away.

Dean’s eyes drop to the sway of her hips, and he shakes his head. 

“Hate sayin’ g’bye but love watchin’ her walk away,” he mutters under his breath with a hearty chuckle before heading to the aisle with chips and crackers, stifling the urge to Leprechaun kick next to the bananas.

Fifty-eight days sober feels pretty damn good.

Epilogue: coming soon

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist | Dean Winchester Masterlist | MJ’s Masterlist

[butmakeitgayblog]

I know you wrote the snippet for AWTR first time but what was the morning after like?

Serene would be the word Clarke would use to describe it. All soft kisses and quiet hums of content. Neither really talking in more than pillow-muffled whispers.

Clarke finds out that Lexa's a tummy sleeper and something about learning that secret is just... It just feels like something precious to know. And it's all good and well because laid like that, she's like an open canvas for Clarke. The full expanse of her back on display, looking deliciously bronze-kissed in the early sun.

When she drifts off sometime between the first songbird calls of dawn and when the sun rises over the trees, Clarke lets her sleep. Spending the hour or so Lexa lays snoozing in tiny huffs and barely-there snores just watching her. Soaking in the moment. Nestling close enough to feel her every breath, a leg thrown over Lexa's thighs as her hand traces circuits from her shoulders to her bottom, drawing landscapes and mountain ranges and whole universes worth of stars with her palms and fingertips. All intertwining and stretching from the high cliffs of her shoulder blades to the twin dimpled valley of her ass.

When Lexa finally stirs and hums in a happy little groan, well that's all the invitation Clarke needs to inspect her work.

She slips further on top of her. Blankets Lexa with her whole body and breathes in the sweat and soap of her hair. Rides the waves each bouncing laugh when Lexa tells her she's heavy... but shakes her head no when Clarke asks of she wants her to get off... She traces each invisible line of her drawings with her lips and tongue, and wonders if her love is enough to make them as permanent as her love is for this girl.

Clarke's hands follow her lips, caressing along Lexa's ribs, hips, and thighs, and before she totally realizes it they're somehow making love again. It's more heated than last night with Lexa apparently having found a second wind in her nap, and Clarke comes twice on her fingers and tongue before she's even managed to have breakfast.

She returns the favor in kind, licking remnants of sticky sweet syrup from Lexa's breasts and belly before declaring they both need to shower.

After making Lexa come yet again on the bathroom counter.

It's hard to focus on the whole mantra of 'wash, rinse, repeat' when all her brain keeps sputtering out are the images of watching herself fuck Lexa in the bathroom's giant mirror as Lexa's head tips back in ecstasy.

Dressing is a messy affair. All ridiculous kisses and handsy half-hearted attempts at actually putting on clothes, and when it's all said and done and they're standing at the front desk, Clarke's credit card has taken a 'Late Check-out' blow.

Lexa drives them back because, well, she's the only who's even sort of slept. Which is fair, considering Clarke seriously cannot stop yawning. But any thoughts of a cat nap fly right out of the window when she takes in just how good Lexa looks handling her car.

She's just so goddamn cute.

And adorable.

And the most bizarre kind of sexy in her hideous sweater from the night before. Looking downright erotic every time she checks and then double checks all of her blind spots and religiously uses two fingers to flip her signal. They ride back in pleasant silence. Just the wind and the occasional secret smile passing between them as Lexa grips the wheel with one hand, the other rubbing soothingly at Clarke's thigh.

Clarke just leans against her headrest and feels utterly at peace in her droopy-eyed stupor, watching her girlfriend drive her shitty Honda back home.

[dystini]

Indycar Driver Lore

Indycar Driver Lore Masterlist

David Joseph Malukas

Birthdate: Sept. 27, 2001 Hometown: Chicago Residence: Chicago Height/Weight: 5’10”/150lbs

Rookie Year: 2022

Team: None

Follow him on: Instagram Twitter

Career Stats

2022: Dale Coyne Racing w/ HMD Motorsports - 16th Overall 2023: Dale Coyne Racing w/ HMD Motorsports - 17th Overall

-2021 INDY NXT by Firestone runner-up, claiming seven wins, 16 podiums, six pole positions. -In 2016, started racing cars in Europe before focusing on the Road to Indy and racing in USF2000 in 2017 and Indy Pro 2000 in 2018. Also raced in Formula Regional Americas Championship Powered by Honda, where he finished second in the series with two wins and 15 podiums. -Was a multi-time karting champion who was featured on TruTV's "Kart LIfe" in 2015. -A first-generation Lithuanian American and the only son of immigrants who moved to Chicago in 1991, David inherited his father Henry’s love of racing. Grew up watching his father race at Road America. He wears both flags on his suits -David lives in the southwest Chicago suburbs – not far from Dale Coyne Racing’s shop – and enjoys mountain biking, hi-fidelity music and “I’m a bit of a gamer.” -loves to dance -david was homeschooled for high school due to being in europe for karting -never had a prom/standard high school experiences -was very homesick during his time in europe -used to know some german and italian -plays more strategy heavy games like Hearts of Iron and Stellaris, but does play mainstream games like Apex: Legends and Beatsaber as well -Uses Beatsaber for reaction-time practice -Can't have coffee anymore. Used to be addicted and his doctor said no more. -star wars fan, said his favorite season was season 7 and thinks Cad Bane is a cool villain -fan of Chelsea FC

-Dad and Mom (Henry & Daiva Malukas) are owners of: -HMD Trucking -HMD Bar & Grill -HMD Motorsports

Iconic/memorable moments David's episode of Bus Bros. INSIDE THE RACE // DAVID MALUKAS AT BARBER MOTORSPORTS PARK Tom Griswold Interviews David Malukas (2022 Indy 500) The Rookie Chronicles 2022 TRACK WALK // LONG BEACH WITH DAVID MALUKAS 2022 PACE CAR LAPS // TAKUMA SATO AND DAVID MALUKAS AT BARBER Marshall Pruett and David Malukas practice/quali/race reports 2022-23 2022 RACE RADIOS // DAVID MALUKAS AT WORLD WIDE TECHNOLOGY RACEWAY How did 20 year old IndyCar rookie David Malukas celebrate on the podium W/O champagne? “OMG They’re Penskes!”

Tiny car race David Malukas vs. the NBC admin. JAVA WITH JAMES // DAVID MALUKAS Welcome to the team David! Welcome David Malukas Trying Different candy part 1 part 2 Holiday Tree Blindfolded Challenge Holiday Family phototshoot Behind the Scenes Baking Challenge: Part 1 Baking Challenge: Part 2 Spill your guts game Intro Part 1 Part 2 Off Track with Hinch and Rossi – The Papaya One Malukas injures hand in mountain bike accident Malukas out for six weeks following wrist surgery Arrow McLaren staying the course with Malukas as his rehab from injury continues ARROW McLAREN RELEASES DAVID MALUKAS FROM TEAM Statement from David Malukas: Malukas released by Arrow McLaren David Malukas gets to know Will Power on and off the track | Over the Wall | 2024 Indy 500 | INDYCAR

David is genuinely happy and excited to be in the Indycar series and it shows. He is enthusiastic, ready to participate in any social media activity, even the embarrassing ones. Despite driving for a team on the lower end of the budget scale, David has shown remarkable results on occasion and always expresses awe to find himself racing against the big names and big teams of the series. His talent is undeniable at just 21 years old and we will be watching his career with great interest for many years to come.

Look, I’m trying to be objective about him but he’s so stinking cute and fun and I think everyone should adore him. As a friend said, just a cute little fairy creature who decided to be a racecar driver for whatever reason. He’s all happiness and sunshine and it’s rare to see him sad or upset.

Fanfic Lore There are really no set pairings for him. He’s been sort of adopted by the Bus Bros as a Bus Cousin. Battled for the IndyNXT championship title with Kyle Kirkwood and they are friends. Karted with Christian Lundgaard in Europe when they were kids.

ROOKIE PALS, RIVALS LUNDGAARD, MALUKAS CROSSING PATHS AGAIN