#if you noticed yeah I still drew them with their lines

[little-demy]

Hollow Knight x Mashle

A bunch of crossover/AU in which Mashle characters are hollow knight inspired characters because I love mixing up two fandoms I love like this and it's also kinda like me practicing designing hollow knight bugs and creatures vibes just for fun

For now I'll just keep character setting and lore to myself, I'm too shy to share and idk what to share but I don't mind answering asks if someone actually interested huhuhu

If you noticed the difference, the first six sketches are recent and the mádl brothers + shuen getsuku is an older sketch.

At least in this au I imagine Innocent Zero being a Void Entity and his children are all vessels

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 | 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐇𝐨 ♡

Day Fourteen - Cum play

【Synopsis】 : Your roommates decided to play a little game, and you were the prize.

『Word count』 : 3.03k

-> Genre: FWB. Smut. PWP

Pairing: Roommates!WooSanHo x Fem!Reader 

[Warnings] : Dirty talk. Bets. unprotected sex. Multi orgasms. Pet names. Lots of bodily fluids. Listen, this is a mess. Spit. Breats play. Cum everywhere. Cum eating. Possessive Jongho. Switch!Wooyoung. Soft Dom!San. Power Dom!Jongho. Making out. Hickies. Squirting. Face fucking. anal.

Note: Thank you to my corrupt anonnie for the idea. Hehe, i could have definitely made it messier, but i think this was still good. I hope you like it, my darling ♡♡

Also, this is not beta read. Hehe ♡♡

Network: @k-vanity @cromernet @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @illusionnet

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“No, I'd clearly win!” Wooyoung had long thrown his controller onto the couch, facing his attention to his friend. “I do a way better job than you.”

“That’s impossible. I’m the one that can get her to squirt. So I’m definitely the one that's better.” San yelled, shoving Wooyoung half-heartedly while smiling smugly. Wooyoung started to ramble about all the positions he could put you in and what he and you do when San isn't around, spilling on all the tips and tricks he had found with your body. What the two bickering idiots didn't notice was Jongho leaning against the door frame, watching both of them fighting over you. He had to roll his eyes at his friends before clicking his tongue against his teeth, and stepping out into the lounge room.

“You know there is only one way we can see who would win this stupid argument.” Jongho’s voice caught the attention of both of the men squabbling on the carpeted floor. 

“We?” Wooyoung said with a raised brow.

“Yeah, we,” Jongho smirked before turning on his heels to head down the hall. Wooyoung and San quickly followed closely, watching intensely as their friend opened the door to your bedroom. You were laying on your bed on your stomach, your ass in their line of sight and back facing them while you had headphones on, blaring music through your ears. You were completely entranced with whatever you were doing on your phone to notice the three men watching you. “So, Rules…” Jongho turns to the others with a serious expression. “The first person to make her squirt gets a point. The first person to get her to beg gets a point. The first person she chooses to fuck her gets a point…”

“And..” San asked curiously.

“She will choose who wins. No if, buts, or whines.” Jongho points to Wooyoung, “That means don’t bitch if she doesn’t choose you.” Woyoung put his hands up in defence with a quick alright, while San nodded his head agreeing to everything Jongho said. And thus the game began. 

You couldn't even guess what you were in store for when you felt someone's hand grabbing your ankle. Or what to do when they tugged you towards the edge of the bed. Your phone is long forgotten as you take your headphones off, slightly sitting on your elbow so you can turn to see who had disturbed you. "Hey there, Darling."

You gulped, seeing San holding your ankles firmly to the bed with a devious smirk painting his feline features. You scanned over to see Jongho and Wooyoung watching close by. Woo looked like he was about to combust right then and there, but Jongho. He looked intrigued, almost spilling over with a growing ego as if he had just won a prize. "Hi..." You drew the word out.

"We wanna play a game. You up for it?" You knew by Wooyoung's remark, that this was no ordinary game, but what enticed you more was the fact that Jongho was here. Normal if Wooyoung and San wanted to fuck you, they'd simply come whining for it. But Jongho...what was he doing here? He hates sharing. You nod nonetheless, watching the stars twinkle in Sans's eyes as his hands fly for your shorts, tugging them off your body in one swoop.

You couldn't even speak up as San quickly undressed you until you were only in your bra and panties while lying on your back, facing the three of them. They all shared the same expression, one of determination, and lust with a hint of competitiveness. They were here to win something, and you began to assume it was you.

"Come on, Dollface. Take it all off." Wooyoung pleaded, palming his erection through his tightening jeans. You couldn't help but smirk as you didn't break eye contact with him, slipping out of your panties and undoing your bra. You threw both garments out of sight before spreading your legs for all of them to see your glistening pussy. They all groaned at the sight. "Fuck you're perfect."

"Perfect in every way." San continued, grabbing your ankles, stepping in front of you. He brought them up into the air, holding them spread out for a moment before putting them on his shoulders. "I'm gonna have fun making you fall apart on my cock."

"Do your worst." You giggle, placing a hand on your abdomen slowly reaching down for your clit. If these three were going to play games, you were gonna play one of your own. You could hear a grunt from both men beside San, while San sighed, easing his cock out of its confinements. He was already leaking. All this talk had really riled him up. He strokes his dick while watching your pussy clench around nothing, basking in the sight. "Come on, Sannie, I'm waiting.."

San brought his fingers to your already dripping cunt, slipping two inside you with ease. He bent down, his free hand braced on the mattress beside your head while he folded you in half, thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a quickened speed. Your head fell back at the slight relief, clamping around his digits, taking in the pleasure San gifted you.

"Fuck she looks so pretty when being fucked." Wooyoung was always one to give out praise but this felt different, it felt intentional, like he wanted you to reply to him. You whined, feeling already close with the way San's fingers curled inside you, hitting the right spot, a sloshing noise becoming more and more prominent in the whisper-filled room, “Are you close, darling?”

You let out a deep sigh, your eyes fluttering closed. Your hands fell to the bed, fingers tangling in the sheets. Your hips buckled at San’s ruthless thrusts and for a moment you didn't notice the other two moving, nor did you realise Wooyoung getting on the bed on your right side, coming to pinch your perky nipple and cupping your tits. “I wanna see you cum all over Sannie's fingers."

Your watery eyes made contact with Wooyoung watching as he spat on your breasts, lubing them up so he could roll your buds under the pads of his thumbs. You feel yourself snap as you stare deep at him, begging San to keep going. San's smirk got bigger as his eyes quickly met both other men. Both men could see accomplishment in his gaze, having won one of the points for himself, getting you to beg.

Your cunt tightened as your high reached its peak, but you heard a click on Jongho's tongue before he took a seat on the free side of the bed with a deep chuckle, "She didn't squirt, pitty."

"That was just a warm-up." San barked at the younger while pulling his fingers out of your pussy, watching the string of cum keep him connected to you. He was slightly disappointed he didn't get another point but still satisfied with your little begs. You laid there for a moment, panting, as all the boys started to bicker amongst themselves before sitting up on your elbow.

"Is someone gonna fuck me now or are you all gonna argue?" You huffed, bending your knees up while planting your feet on the mattresses.

"We're sorry, darling." San, who was still kneeling in front of you, rubbed small circles on your plump thigh, soothing some of the ache in them, "Who do you want first?" San knew it was probably against the rules to ask you, and given Jongho's raised eyebrow, he was treading on thin ice.

"Hmmm." You pretended to think for a moment, but you had already known who you wanted first the moment all three of them walked in. So you sat up, twisting your body before shuffling towards him. "Jjongie...."

Jongho couldn't help but chuckle, gently caressing your face as he watched you nuzzle into his palm, "What is it, honey..." he cooed, helping you into his lap, both other men watching with flames in their eyes.

"I need you please, please..." You begged, grinding against his clothed cock. Point for Jongho.

"Anything for you, honey.” He tipped you backwards until you were lying on your back once again. He grabs your thighs and pushes them up near your chest. You wrap a hand around the back of your thighs, keeping yourself the way he wants you. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he leaves kisses on your cheeks. His hand found the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down just below his balls so his already hard cock could spring out. You lick your lips as you watch him come forward, completely mounting you. Jongho, sighed, fluttering his eyes closed for a moment at the feeling of your cunt fitting snugly around him, like you were made for him, “Fuck honey, you’re so tight.”

“Jjong…nagh.” You threw your head back, gripping the sheets as your body moved with Jongho’s shallow thrusts. You almost forgot about the other two men in the room, that was until you heard a high-pitched whine from Wooyoung.

“This is unfair, I wanted Doll to choose me.” Wooyoung squirmed beside you making Jongho snap his hips sharply with a deep grunt;

“What did I say about whining?” Jongho’s brow was coated in sweat already with every clench of your cunt was driving the man quicker to his climax than he’d like to admit. You had that effect on them. A way with words, touch, anything. You made all of them crazy.

“Yeah, yeah I remember…” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, pouting. But before he could continue his protest, an idea popped into his head, bringing his gaze to San. His smile grew, making San shake his head with a raised brow. He knew what his friend was thinking but it was the fact of if Jongho was willing to share. “You wouldn’t mind if I slide in over here, hmm?”

You watched with a smirk, watching Woo take his cock out right next to your face. Jongho growled, grabbing your chin before drilling deeper inside your pussy, making you scream out his name, “That’s right baby. Say my name. I’m the one inside you. I’m the one making you feel like this.” His free hand moved from your thigh to your clit, rubbing in small quick circles, “Come on honey, I wanna feel you come around my cock. Make a mess for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes sir.” You nodded your head over and over as you felt yourself tip over the edge. The two other men just stared in awe at the way Jongho played with your body. How he presses completely different buttons to them. 

“Fuck, that's hot.” San groaned, stroking his cock as he watched as Jongho’s hips stutter before coming to a complete stop, emptying his cum deep inside you. “You actually get her to call you sir. I thought you were joking.”

“You have no idea what I can get this sweet girl to do.” Jongho leaned down to seal his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as he slipped out of your soaked cunt. 

“I could think of a few things.” Wooyoung’s snarky remark gifted an eye roll from you as he sat up on your elbows. Jongho broke the kiss, taking a step back to see his cum leak out of your hole. But you didn’t let him gaze long enough as you turned around to steal a seat on Wooyoung’s lap. “Oh…Hi there Doll.”

“Hi, pretty boy.” Your lips found his own while you reached behind your body to guide his cock into your messy cunt. You sink onto him with ease and you can’t help but grin as you hear a whimper leave him. You push him backwards onto the bed with a hand on his chest and with the new angle, you rid him. His hips stutter upwards, his hands holding firmly on your waist. With this angel, San came up before you, straddling Wooyoung’s shaky legs. San’s lips found your neck sucking hard marks as he ruts his cock against your ass. Your head leant back against the man's shoulder, letting him have more access to your flesh. You feel your hips shake, the burn in your thighs causing you to tear up. Wooyoung seemed to notice, taking ahold of your hips to help you grind on him. “I...I’m close.”

“You need Woo to take over, darling?” San whispered in your ear making you nod your head. San immediately picked you up, manhandling you off the bed until you were lying over the edge and your legs were dangling over the edge. Wooyoung followed closely before slipping back inside you once you were comfortable. San took this moment to remove the rest of his clothes before kneeling in front of you, tapping the tip of his cock against your cheek, “Open up, baby.”

You obeyed willingly, feeling him slowly thrust into your throat. You whimper around him, gagging lightly with every small snap of his hips. Wooyoung crossed over his arms so he could jackhammer into you, watching Jongho’s and your cum smear up your ass crack and onto his pelvis, soaking you both completely. “Fuck, baby. You're soaking me…”

“She’s perfect isn’t she,” San replied to Wooyoung, placing his hand on the base of his back to steady his thrusts into your throat all while you just lay there, taking everything they gave you. “Fuck I’m close darling. I’m gonna cum all over this pretty face.”

Your body shook, as you felt yourself close to the edge as well. It wasn’t until Wooyoung’s finger found your clit, pinching the little bundle of nerves. You scream around San’s cock, feeling yourself clench around Wooyoung, squirting all over him. Your juices leaked everywhere like it was never-ending, landing on the floor, ruining the sheets and painting Wooyoung’s abdomen. “Point for me.”

Wooyoung grinned, feeling accomplished as he continued to fuck you. It wasn’t longer until Wooyoung’s hips faltered before he came, emptying his load all over your back. San was next to finish, stroking his cock hard with a battered pant before coming all over your face, some of his seed getting in your hair, also dripping down your chin onto the sheets below you. You stared up at San with a cheeky grin, running your hand along some of his seed on your cheeks, dragging some of it into your mouth before swallowing. San groaned as he watched with a groan, “Dirty girl.”

You opened your mouth, flatting your tongue to show him you had swallowed it all but before you could say anything to him, you felt a new pair of hands grab your middle, flipping you onto your back. It was Jongho, he ran his fingers along your abused cunt, collecting some of your slick, “Such a messy baby.”

You shivered feeling him dip a finger into your ass. He thrusts it slowly before whistling over San to enter your pussy while Jongho adds another finger into your tight hole. Wooyoung also came over but he simply just kneeled over your sweaty body while jerking off. It felt like your body was on fire, every sense on high alert. From San’s harsh snaps to Jongho’s now three fingers deep inside you. You were so close, your throat horse, no longer being able to scream as you came again. How many times, you’ve lost count. 

“Fuck, baby. Look at you.” San played with your clit as you squirted, wetting his pelvis, soaking the sheets even more than they already are. Wooyoung came again, his cum dripping all over your tummy. Your hand came up to run a finger along your skin, playing with the seed with a sly grin. You were completely covered in their cum head to toe and you loved it. Jongho finally stood up from his crouched position letting San pick you up within the next breath, never leaving your messy cunt for a second. Jongho’s chest pressed firmly against your sticky back, letting you feel his cock’s tip run along your ass cheeks. 

“Take a deep breath, honey.” You listened to Jongho as you felt him enter your ass in one quick motion. 

“Fuck!!” You cried, your nails digging into San’s shoulders threatening to draw blood. Your brain was entirely fired, your mouth drooling as you whimpered out random high-pitched noises. Your body was going to be sore the next day and you couldn’t care less. And when you felt Wooyoung start to play with your abused and overly sensitive clit you knew you were done for. “Fuck I’m coming. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

You sounded like a broken record but as you felt both San and Jongho cum deep inside you, your mind completely went black. Your limbs went lack and your body fell forward onto San with a heavy ‘oof’. All three men stood still for a moment, letting their own highs die down. But it was Wooyoung that caught the attention of everything when he gasped. “Did she just pass out?”

San moved your hair out of your face, seeing you were fast asleep. “Oh shit…We just fucked her until she passed out.”

Jongho slipped out of you, helping San place you on the bed for a moment. They all stood there a little unsure what to do, it was then that Jongho let out a sigh, “So much for seeing who would win the bet…..”

—

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[rottenaero]

Ao3

Part 1

Part 3

Part two to the roommates idea

Whenever the mall ‘burns down’, Eddie is just chilling at home; not doing anything special.

Actually, thats a complete lie. He hadn't seen Steve since he left for his shift the day before, and currently has his band+Wayne scattered in the living room as he paces.

“He may as well be dead, he always calls before staying the night somewhere, and he totally despises that place, so why would he stay after hours?” He comes to a halt infront of Jeff who looks considering. “What?!"

“Maybe, consider, he just forgot to call you." Eddie scoffed, “ ‘Maybe he just forgot’, except you don't know him, Jeff. Steve doesn't forget, tell ‘em Wayne."

Wayne nods from his spot on the lazyboy, “ ‘S true, he'd rather call at 2am than have us worrying.”

Gareth rolls his eyes, “Look Edmund, I get your worried about you boyfriend and all but why did we have to get dragged into this?" He complained, and Eddie began pacing again.

“ Not,my boyfriend, yet, and you’re getting-”

A ringing interrupts him.

The pacing stopped almost as soon as it began, and he darts to the phone. “ Y’hello, it's Eddie talking.” A sharp breath drew from the other end of the line.

“Hey Eds."

Eddie smiled, “Holy shit, Stevie. I thought you died. Wayne and the guys are literally gathered in the living room.” Upon hearing the name, Wayne visibly relaxed, going from hunched over to leaning backwards in seconds.

“Yeah I'm- Well shit not okay but I'm not dead.”In the background there was a noise, barely noticeable but-

“Wait, what? Are those sirens? Are you hurt? What the hell-” Wayne leaned forward again.

“I'm at the mall, there's been, uh, an accident? I don't- they took my keys, I need a ride back home.”

“Who took your keys? Steve you can't just be all ominous and-” The phone line shut off. "Fuck!”

Grant, who hasn't been helpful at all, stood up. "What did he do?”

Eddie groans, running a hand through his greasy hair, “Needs us to pick him up, might be hurt. He's such a- Wayne we're taking my van, you guys coming?”

Turns out the answer is yes.

-

They arrive at the mall five minutes later, mostly because Eddie was driving like a bat outta hell, to every emergency vehicle you can think of, plus thirty more, surrounding the place.

Eddie roles his window down when a cop signals him. “What are you doing over here?"

The metalhead bites his lip, what the hell, “Uh, I'm here to pick up Steve Harrington? He got involved in whatever's happening.”

The cops nods, "Alright, park your vehicle over there, and go get him.”

He does as he's told, a surprising feat showing just how scared he was, because Steve being hurt could mean so many things.

They get out the car, Wayne being the leading man, and head to where the commotion is.

The mall was totally destroyed, a couple kids he didn't know were sitting around, surrounded by their parents, there's a couple teens too, Nancy Wheeler, Johnny Byers, a girl in a sailor costume, and-

Eddie’s heart stopped and he fucking sped forward. “ Holy shit, what the fuck man." Steve looked like hell, understatement of the century but-

His face was bruised and bloody, his hands wrapped in casts, his hair was flat and gross and he was still in his damn sailor costume.

“Hey Munsons, Gareth, Jeff, Grant. It's the whole Scooby gang, or Smurfs, whoever you prefer.” Eddie grabbed his shoulders, and stared him dead in the eye. “ What. The. Fuck. Are you high too?!”

“Just what the hell did you get yourself into. " Wayne said more than asked, shaking his head.

Steve buzzed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and he brought a hand to them and-

God they were split, and bleeding now. He looked back up at the long haired man infront of him, ignoring Wayne's question-not-question.

“Nah, just recovering from being drugged. Hey this is rivveting conversation and shit, but like, I wanna go home and sleep in your bed, man. Or the couch, or the floor.”

He let out a loud laugh, “Fuck I am not picky right now, I'll even take the back of the van.”

“Christ."

-

They don't talk about it, not after Hellfire goes home, not the next morning, not after Steve heals. They just don't, because the news told them all they need to know, that there was a fire. Eddie just assumed when they said he was drugged, that he meant medically.

(He didn't)

[oozedninjas]

No Hard Feelings~

Warnings: NSFW | Explisit Smut | MDNI | 18+ | Friends with Benefits trope | Breeding kink | Slight Dumbification | Dirty Talking | Use of the word "Daddy" twice. | Daddy kink | Dry-Humping | Slight Bruising | General (animated verses) strongly leaning toward 2007, for that one line lol. | Leo is in his early 30's

A/N: This piece has been my baby for over two weeks now. Hope you like it! Mixed two requests, one for the "daddy" thing and other who asked for fwb trope. Enjoy, my dirty hoes! 💜

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. But his kiss was a blaze in the dark, igniting something primal within you. You watched him from afar, his muscles stretching as he trained—the soft swing of his two katanas in perfect harmony. Strong hands gripping the hilts as firmly as they had held you.

You looked aside as if running away from the memories of his palms on your hips, holding you still as he fucked his cum back in, growling in your ear how good you could take him. 

“Come for daddy, baby. One more time, I know you can,” his voice hoarse, fighting not to tremble with his high approaching. Fuck, you loved to have him like this, sensitive, dripping, pussy-drunk. 

How could it be just a one-time thing?

A loud clang of metal jolted you from the heated memory. You pressed your legs together to relieve some tension, your breath catching as Leo tipped a water bottle over his head, dousing himself to cool down. His plastron gleamed, immaculate under the water.

He glanced at you, shooting a sidelong smile—confident, self-assured, and irresistibly flirty.

“What?” he teased. “Want some?” He jostled the remnants of the bottle toward you.

You reached him in two swift steps. “Yeah, but what if I want to drink from here?” You ran your palms over his chest, your nails grazing the edges. He gasped, his strong hands gripping your wrists. Desire poured from his gaze as he eyed you.

“We agreed not to cross the line again.”

“Hmm, but how can I keep my word when you look like this,” you muttered, pressing yourself against his crotch, driven by an unashamed need to have him closer.

Leo let out a rough breath. “Careful.”

“Why? afraid you’d catch feelings?” 

He let out a sexy laugh. Leo drew you into his arms, trapping you between himself and the cold wall of the lair’s training room.  “I’m afraid you might,” 

“Try me,” you said, lifting your face toward his, lips barely brushing.

Leo caught your mouth in a searing, intense kiss that stole your breath. He hauled you onto a chest of drawers. Your legs wrapped around his torso, pulling him as close as possible. You ground against him, caring little about your pathetic desperation.

Noticing, Leo followed your movement, grating a hot, tingling sensation that spread from your core through your body. You moaned. 

"Feels good?" he smiled, eying you with burning desire. 

Yes. More. Skin against skin. You were dying for it. Yet, all that fell off your mouth were small sighs and moans, as he rubbed over your clit so fucking good even through the fabric the contact weakened you.

Leo captured your gaping mouth, and his tongue found yours shortly, It was a fierce, almost violent melding of lips, each seeking dominance. The intensity of his kiss was intoxicating. Suddenly, he was more essential than air itself. 

You don’t know how, but he managed to peel your pants off just in time to meet the shirt you discarded on the floor. Your underwear met them right after. He panted as the heat of your body pressed against his ever-so-cold one. His hands roamed your back, taking his time to memorize every curve on it. It would be romantic if it weren’t for the frantic way in which he was still humping his hard, dripping cock against your core. 

The smooth and creamy texture mingled with yours made it heavenly. You could feel the coil inside your lower belly tightening along with each muscle in your body. 

“Leo- I’m…”

“I know,” he breathed, pulling your hair to tilt your face towards his, “look at me.”

You tightened the grip of your legs around him, not allowing a single inch of space between your bodies. Gazes locked only for the brief seconds before your orgasm crashed over, and then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth gaping as you came loud and long. The hot throbs of bliss spread from your sensitive nub through your body to your temples, numbing you in tingling ecstasy. 

“You’re so hot like this,” he panted. 

You hadn’t come down from the afterbliss when he thrust into you, all the way in, in one motion. It knocked the air out of you, but he stretched you so well you couldn't help but curve your little mouth into a drunk-like smile. 

“Shit, I can still feel your cunt throbbing. You’re such a whore for Daddy, aren’t you?”

You panted something, it came out trembly and almost faint. Leo chuckled against your pulse line. What’s the matter, sweetness? Can't talk now? Feels that good?

You embraced him tighter, with both legs and arms, enjoying the deep, brutal pace he picked up. The filthy sound of skin slapping filled the room alongside your moans. Suddenly, you didn’t give two fucks if any of his brothers walked in, not even if Splinter heard you. It was all about Leo allowing you into that special place so close to heaven. 

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re so tight, so— warm,” 

Your muscles tensed in anticipation of the high that was coming. 

“Baby, come inside me, I— I want you to fill me—, I want it, I want it, I—” 

He moaned. Strong hands gripped your thighs as he relentlessly abused your cunt, hard and hot until you felt his cum painting your insides. His cock throbbed inside your cunt which each new load, his voice broke a bit as he came. It triggered your release. You fisted his blue bandana, enjoying every drop of him inside you, adoring the way pleasure spread from your core to every corner of your body.

In a few moments, you managed to catch your breath. Leo turned to look at you, his gaze locking with yours. There was a glint in his eyes, subtly altered from before, now more intense. It held a curious blend of astonishment and something else, elusive and difficult to pinpoint.

You could still feel him connected to you when for a fleeting moment, it almost seemed like he might lean in to kiss your nose. Panic surged through you, not because of the action, but because you caught yourself yearning for it.

"What's with that look, huh? Don't tell me you're falling for me..." It came out bluntly, unintentionally tinged with mockery.

Leo halted.

"No," he muttered, forcing a stiff and brazen smile to his lips as he pulled out. He grabbed a towel from the dojo's rack, his movements mechanical and devoid of their usual grace. "Of course not."

[cameronspecial]

Idk if you still take requests but if you do I would love to see a drew x reader where they have to do a sex scene (like in hellraiser) it’s so hot

Just Acting

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Masterlist

Sometimes when as an actor, the lines between what is real and fake can get blurred. The worst is when that happens during an intimate scene, especially if that scene is so primal with the coworker she has a crush on.

Drew’s grip pulls her head back so that his face is next to hers. His barely covered dick hits against her bum. She lets out pants as instructed and does her best to focus on acting instead of the numerous people behind the camera. “I knew you were a little Slut. Look at you taking it so good,” Drew growls in her ear in character as Alex Tanner, a professional escort. Her character, Stacy Morris, moans out and looks him in the eye with a small nod. “So good. Harder,” she asks in a babble. He chuckles, his hand going to grip her breast only covered in a skin-coloured nipple cover. He gives it the script squeeze before faking pulling out of her and flipping her on her back. He pulls her onto his lap so she is straddling him and the make believe thrusting continues. She bounces with him and struggles to conceal her real moans as his hard length slams against her protected pussy. “YES, ALEX. KEEP GOING,” she screams, running her fingers through his hair to yank on it. Her hands fall to his back and tear down it, which creates beautiful red steaks. 

She presses her lips against him and their mouths move in tandem. This is just acting. This isn’t real. She reminds herself, over and over again. “Cut,” the director calls out and it takes the actors a second to process the command. They begin to slow down and their breaths can be heard throughout the stage. Sweat runs down their faces and they look at each other with embarrassed smiles. She hates to admit that she got caught up in the moment and by the look on his face, he might have too. The director comes over to inform them that they got the shot and that they are moving to the next scene. 

———

Y/N is moving around her hotel room getting ready for bed when a knock comes at her door. She slips a strand of hair behind her ear and goes to get it. “Hey, Drew. Is everything okay?” she greets, steeping back to let him into the room. He looks nervous as he bites the corner of his lip. “Yeah, I was just wondering if we can run through the scene we did this morning. I know Wayne said we got it but…umm… I don’t feel like we did.” Her heart skips a beat at the reference of the scene. Her cheeks feel like an inferno. She nods, “Uh…yeah, of course. Anything to get the scene right.” He smiles shyly at her. “Cool. We don’t have our modesty wear; however, we are both adults so are you okay with being naked? We can practise fully clothed, if you prefer though.”

The gurgle in her stomach begins to grow. “I think we can do it naked. We are professionals after all.” He nods and they both awkwardly get stripped down. She isn’t surprised by the size of his length and she knows it isn’t going to be actually inside her, yet it doesn’t stop her from squeezing her thighs together in need. His heart stops when he notices the movement. 

She gets on the bed on all fours and looks back at him when she feels his hesitation. “It’s okay. We are just acting, right? This is for our job,” she reassures. His head bobs and he gets settled behind her as he is supposed to be for the scene. They go through the scene and everything feels like acting until she is straddling him. This new position means that their genitals are in direct contact and he shifts under her. He can feel how wet she is and he yarns to be buried deep within her. He notices her expression turning to uncertainty, so he pulls away. “Are you okay? We can stop if you feel uncomfortable,” he says. She shakes her head, “No. No. I’m fine. I can keep going.” To make her point clear, she does as she is scripted to do and rises to pretend to sink down on his cock; however, as she goes to pretend to ride him, she feels his tip fall at her entrance.

Their eyes meet and they stare at each other for a few seconds, trying to figure out what the other is thinking. Since nothing is said, she continues to allow his length inside of her. Her moans fall on his ear and this encourages Drew to begin bucking up inside of her. She bounces with the help of his hands on her ass to meet his movement. The two of them fall into pleasure and it starts to go off-script. His eyes lock on her breasts bouncing in front of him and he can’t help but lean forward to take one into his mouth.

She squeals in delight at the feeling and laces her fingers through his hair so that he stays in place. “Drew,” she calls out. They both freeze. The utterance of his name breaks the spell over them and it is time to admit what they are truly doing. “This isn’t just acting anymore,” he murmurs against her neck. “I want this to be real and if you don’t, then tell me now and I’ll leave.” She pulls his head away so she can crash their lips together, “This is very real to me. I want that too.” He smirks at her and his movements slow down. He flips them so that she is on her back and he is on top of him. His thrusts may have slowed down but they still reach every part inside of her that she needs. They are both brought to their orgasm and his movements stop while they recover. He slips out of her, dropping to her side on the bed. She looks up at him with doe eyes and snuggles himself into his side. He kisses the sweaty border of her hairline. “Please tell me this is real. That this isn’t us just acting or a dream,” she whispers. He lets out a low chuckle, “I promise. This is real and it definitely won’t be the last time we do that. I love you, Y/N.” She sighs in his hold. “I love you too, Drew.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[breadbrobin]

So i saw of a guy getting lipstick kisses on him and im just obssessed with it. I want it with Luke but maybe we could have Luke put our lipstick on to mark us with kisses? Thanks for the lovely Luke fics ;3

revenge is best served red

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!reader, from any cabin]

summary: little pranks are a great way to keep a relationship fun, and if they involve lipstick? well, neither of you are going to complain too much.

warnings: kissing, reader wears makeup (lipstick mostly stated), slightly suggestive content

word count: 786

(hiiii!! i love this request it’s so cute! thank you for the awesome request, i hope you like it!)

——————————————

one thing new campers often noticed about luke castellan were the lipstick stains on his collar and skin and the silver bracelet on his wrist, both a perfect match to your lips and your own wrist. he wore both with pride, always one to wear his heart on his sleeve and, well, your lipstick on his shirts.

you’d never tried to hide your relationship. how could you, after all, when luke stumbled out from behind your cabin with lipstick marks all over his face and you followed him not long later, makeup smudged and hair messy? that was a pretty good giveaway that you were together.

luke had always liked revenge. good, cold, sweet revenge. but you had never been a target. nope. never.

until he drew a heart with an ‘L’ in it on your cheek while you slept one night, and you went around camp as usual for three hours before you realised it was there. then all bets were off.

you wore your brightest, boldest lip looks, pressing kisses to his cheeks, to his hands to the corner of his mouth. he wore them with pride.

“you’re never embarrassed,” you’d whined to him one day.

he’d wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, smiling. “i’d never be embarrassed by you. how could i be?”

that had been enough for you to shut him up with more deep red kisses for a while.

revenge came to you one day though. cold and sweet.

you went simple. and cold. definitely cold.

a bucket of ice was tipped over luke just before he was set to start training, courtesy of you, of course. what you hadn’t expected, was getting chased by a soaked, cold, luke, and hugged tightly as the ice permeated through your clothes too. regardless, he admitted that you’d got him, and finally, you could relax. pranks had never been your strong suit anyway.

as time went on, all of that took a backseat. more than anything else, you were just… happy.

luke was, first and foremost, a picture perfect boyfriend. always opening doors for you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and lips, carrying your bags and always respecting you. but he was so annoying sometimes.

like now, as he sat on your with your makeup bag in front of him, tipped out onto your sheets.

you were sitting on the floor with a colouring book as he sorted through your products, studying some of them and swatching them on his hand and wrist. you weren’t quite sure was he was doing—you had your back to him—but whatever it was was making you slightly nervous. he hummed every now and then, either in confusion or satisfaction, you weren’t quite sure. that was the only thing that broke up the silence in the otherwise empty cabin.

“hey, babe,” he said suddenly.

“yeah?” you didn’t look back at him.

“what colour lipstick do you think would suit me best?”

you frowned and turned around, then covered your mouth with a giggle. “oh my gods.”

luke’s lips were painted in a deep red, messy and over-lined more than kylie jenner. he was smiling goofily. “what?”

“you look like the joker. and not the cool one.” you giggled, hand still over your mouth.

“so not this colour?” he grinned.

you shook your head, lowering your hand with a laugh. “no, not that colour.”

“hm…” he looked in a handheld mirror and pouted dramatically. “guess i’ve got to take this off then.”

you were about to reach for your makeup wipes when his lips landed on yours. you were confused for a moment, before you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss as the lipstick rubbed off onto your lips and face.

he pulled away and smiled. “i see why you like doing that.”

“like doing what?” you asked breathlessly.

his thumb smeared the lipstick just below your lips slowly. “making such a mess.”

he kissed you again, slowly guiding you up and pushing your makeup aside so you were on your bed with him, then pushing you down gently so you were lying below him.

he peppered lipsticked kisses all over your face, eliciting giggles from you, and, when he finally pulled back, your face was more red and pink than anything else. he smiled down at you, his hand resting on your waist as he shifted his weight to the side. “yeah. i get it now.”

“i hate you.” you teased.

“yeah, i hate you too. but revenge is sweet. at least i’m not freezing you right now.” he grinned, his lips meeting yours again as you both laughed. you didn’t even mind that he was wasting your lipstick. with luke, nothing was a waste.

[stevie-petey]

i just think that steve would 100% be stitching bug’s initial into his levi’s like tom holland stitches little z’s into his. it’s such loverboy behavior and i don’t think any thing has screamed steve more

steve and bug are so tom and z coded oh my GOD he 100000% does and here is how bug found out <333

enjoy !

"honey, can you pass me the chocolate chips?" your arms strain as you whisk oatmeal raisin batter. "it should be up on the shelf in the pantry."

"on it," steve kisses the base of your neck and quickly goes to find the missing ingredient. the small act of affection warms you, shielding you from the december cold.

its nearing christmas and youve been spent the last three days frantically baking your annual holiday treats. each year your list grows more and more. alex is a new addition, it had taken quite a bit of begging and pleading before he finally told you what dessert he liked (he hadnt wanted to bother you, which you find very endearing yet unneeded).

however, with the addition of alex comes also the loss of the byers. this year youre only baking two batches of oatmeal raisin, not four, and your kitchen lacks the scent of joyces favorite muffins. you miss them terribly, wills latest drawing came in the mail yesterday and you had nearly cried when you realized he drew a silly doodle of you surrounded by a million cookies and sweets. underneath the drawing will had written, save me some cookies!

"where did you say the chocolate chips were?" steve calls from the pantry.

"top shelf," you respond, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. "next to the sugar."

"i cant find them!"

he sounds distressed, you know steves trying his best to help you, and you cant help but laugh at him. he always does whatever he can to dote on you. setting the whisk down, you walk over to the boy. "here, let me show you."

steve is standing on his tip toes, arms stretched above his head as he looks for the sweets. his frame lithe and long, and his sweater rides up slightly as he strains. "i swear, i can find it-"

"whats that?" your eyes land on the hem of steves jeans. hes wearing his usual levis, the denim taut against his lower body. theyre faded from years of use, and theres something stitched onto the waistband of them that you havent seen before.

"whats what?" steve strains his head to look at you, still on his tip toes.

your fingers graze the stitch, warming his waist. he stumbles at the unexpected touch and nearly falls against you, but you dont notice any of it. all you can focus on right now is that there are small, messily sewn initials on his jeans with red string. it stands out harshly against the denims blue. the messy lines are familiar, the letters resemble the S.H. that currently resides on the sleeve of your cardigan.

"did you..." youre breathless, so in love that it threatens to suffocate you. "did you sew my initials onto your jeans?"

steve looks down, eyes widening when he realizes what youre referring to. he clears his throat, his face reddens a soft cherry hue. "oh, that? i-uh. well, you know. i-i mean, yeah."

he stumbles over his words and tries to step away, but his back presses against the shelf and hes cornered. he hadnt meant for you to see the initials, he nearly forgot about them entirely, if hes being honest. he had sewn them onto a few pairs of his jeans one night, missing you and unable to sleep. he had some spare needle and string leftover from when he sewed his own initials into your cardigan last christmas, he wanted everyone to know that he was yours, too.

and yet a small part of him hadnt wanted you to know about it. he had sewn the initials early into your relationship. steve knows youd never be cruel to him for showing so much love for you, but some days the fear of loving too hard still lingers.

seeing his fear, you grab one of steves beltloops and tug him forward, pulling his hips flush against yours. wrapping your arms over his neck, you bring his forehead to yours. "i love you."

"i love you, too." and hes put at ease. the fear dissipates, steve hasnt scared you off quite yet. he clears his throat again, allows himself to be vulnerable with you. his heart resides in the palm of your hands, he knows youll always be gentle with it, but sometimes he needs to breathe you in. steves fingers tug gently at your sleeve. "wanted to match with you."

you laugh, your entire body opens up with pure, unfiltered joy as your chest revibrates happiness. youre so in love with him that it hurts, that it blinds you sometimes. cheeks burning, you kiss the top of steves head. "youre as sweet as honey, have i ever told you that?"

"once or twice," he shrugs, trying to be coy, but his body radiates warmth and his voice drips saccharine.

you bury your face in his neck, inhale everything that he is. nose pressed to his collarbone, your lips find the smooth expanse of his skin and you kiss him softly. steve shivers at the softness, which you smile at. "think you could sew your initials onto some of my jeans?"

"only if i can get some of wheelers brownies."

"deal."

[rosemariiaa]

~Lines We Drew~

part: 2

pairing- Paige x Azzi

a/n: I was gonna post this tomorrow but today was a good day!

warning: language

Enjoy!!!

Azzi’s POV:

My first few days at UConn have been a whirlwind. Classes are intense but manageable, and my teammates have been great—well, most of them. Paige is a whole different story. She’s made it clear she doesn’t like me, though I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because of our past or something else I just don’t know of. Whatever it is, she’s not making things any easier.

Practice has been tough, and Paige seems to find every opportunity to make it hell. Most of the time the rest of the team just looks at her like she’s crazy because, honestly, I don’t know what I’ve done to her that bad to be treated like this, but I hope she knows she’s not just going to push me around like a dog.

This morning, we were running drills, and Coach decided to pit me against Paige. Of course, she couldn’t resist making some remark about my shooting form, which is actually perfect by the way. “Nice shot, Fudd, maybe next time try aiming for the basket.” Paige snickered.

I rolled my eyes and shot back, “At least I can make a shot without spraining my ankle.” Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the surprise flicker across her face before she masked it with a scowl. We kept bickering throughout the drill, and eventually, Coach had enough.

“Bueckers! Fudd! Locker room, now!” Geno shouted.

We both hesitated, but the glare he sent us had us moving. The walk to the locker room was tense, and the silence that followed once we got there was even worse. I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me, and it was only a matter of time before one of us snapped.

“What the hell is your problem?” I finally demanded, turning to face her. “My problem? You’re the one acting like you own the place,” Paige shot back, her tone icy.

“Maybe because I’ve actually earned my spot here.” I said throwing my hands in the air. “Yeah, because everyone just loves the shiny new recruit,” Paige sneered, crossing her arms. “But they don’t know you like I do.”

“Oh really , and what exactly do you think you know about me, Bueckers?”

“I know you’re all talk. You act nice, but deep down, you’re just as cutthroat as the rest of us. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The accusation stung more than I expected. I opened my mouth to retaliate, but before I could, the door creaked open, and Laila, a girl i met my first day at Uconn slipped in, casting a worried glance between us. “Hey, Az, you okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

I nodded, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Paige’s jaw tightened as Laila approached me. Why did she care? It’s not like we were friends or anything.

Paige’s glare was sharp, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was angry at me or at Laila. But that didn’t make sense, I pushed the thought aside, focusing on Laila as she pulled me aside to talk quietly. Even though we were trying to be discreet, I could still feel Paige’s gaze burning into us.

“I’m fine, just… annoyed,” I muttered to Laila, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself. Laila gave me a reassuring smile and squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you. You belong here just as much as she does babe, you know that.”

“Thanks Lai,” I replied, though my mind was still partially focused on the fact that Paige had been glaring at us the entire time. What was her deal?

When Laila finally left, Paige and I were alone again, but the fire in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by something unreadable. The silence stretched on until it became unbearable, and finally, she stood up, brushing past me without a word.

I watched her leave, trying to figure out what just happened. Why did she look so pissed when Laila showed up? Did she think I was going to talk about her? Or maybe… No. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Paige Bueckers couldn’t possibly care about me.

———-

Paige’s POV:

I never expected Azzi Fudd to get under my skin like this. I knew she was coming to UConn, but I wasn’t excited about it. Everyone was hyped up about her for god knows whatever , acting like she was going to be the savior of the team. I couldn’t stand it. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am, and now, here comes Miss Perfect, just strolling in like she owns the place.

But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that everyone seems to love her. Even my own friends, who should be on my side, are falling all over themselves to help her move in, introduce her to everyone, and make her feel at home. What about me? I thought bitterly. Where’s all this support when I need it?

The accusation hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I thought she might actually cry. But then the door creaked open, and Laila walked in, instantly killing whatever momentum our fight had.

“Hey, Azzi, you okay?” Laila asked softly. Azzi nodded, but my whole body tensed up as Laila walked over to her. I didn’t know why, but something about seeing Laila with Azzi made my blood boil. Laila had a long kind of slim body, a little similar to mine, but of course I had the muscles. She had this long blonde hair dripping down her back..also similar to me. I felt this unfamiliar twist in my chest, like jealousy, but that couldn’t be it. Could it? No.

I watched as Laila reached out and touched Azzi’s arm, and I had to fight the urge to get up and push her away. What was wrong with me? This wasn’t my business. I didn’t care who Azzi talked to, or at least I shouldn’t care. But as I watched them whisper to each other, something ugly and possessive churned in my gut.

I turned away, trying to focus on anything else. The lockers. The floor. My shoes. Anything but the sight of Laila comforting Azzi. I didn’t care, I reminded myself. I didn’t care at all. But when I looked back, and saw Azzi smile at something Laila said, it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. My fists clenched involuntarily. I hated this feeling. I hated that she could get under my skin like this.

When Laila finally left, the tension in the room was suffocating. I wanted to say something, to demand to know why Azzi even needed Laila to comfort her, but what right did I have? We weren’t friends. Hell, I didn’t even like her. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to scream at her, to demand answers to questions I didn’t even understand.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and stormed out of the locker room without another word, leaving Azzi behind. I needed to clear my head, to figure out why seeing her with Laila had set me off like that. This didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t possibly be jealous. Not of Azzi. Not over something as stupid as Laila talking to her. Right?

But as I walked away, the twisted feeling in my chest didn’t go away. If anything, it got worse. And I had no idea what to do about it.

———-

Back in my apartment, I tried to focus on my assignments, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the locker room. No matter how hard I tried to push the memories away, Azzi kept creeping back into my mind. Why the hell did I care so much? I asked myself this knowing why i did care. But It wasn’t like we were friends. We weren’t even close like that anymore. But everything about her now kept nagging at me.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Studying was pointless. All I could think about was the way she looked at me, the way her voice had risen when she confronted me. And that damn moment with Laila. Why did it bother me so much to see them together?

My phone buzzed on the desk, snapping me out of my thoughts. Nika had texted the group chat, suggesting we all head over to Aubrey’s apartment for a study session and hangout. I almost ignored it, but I figured it was better than sitting here, stewing in my own confusion.

When I arrived at Aubrey’s, the place was already full with energy, KK and Ice bickering, paying no attention to the work we’re actually supposed to be doing. Everyone else was scattered around the living room with their laptops and notebooks. I found a spot on the couch and tried to settle in, hoping the chatter would drown out my thoughts.

A few minutes later, the door to one of the bedrooms creaked open, and Azzi emerged, looking half-asleep with her curls falling down her shoulders and her eyes half-closed. She was wearing black Nike shorts and a tank top, and as she stretched, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach and that damn silver belly button ring, I couldn’t help but stare. She looked effortlessly beautiful, even with her sleepy face and bed hair. My eyes traced the length of her long, tanned legs, and I had to remind myself to blink.

Everyone greeted her with a chorus of “Hi’s,” but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was too busy trying to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat when she rubbed her eyes and yawned.

Azzi must have noticed me staring because she glanced in my direction, her lips curling into a smirk. “Like what you see, Bueckers?” she teased, snapping me out of my thoughts. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in my notes. “Whatever,” I muttered, but my mind was racing. What the hell was wrong with me? I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that, and I definitely shouldn’t be blushing because of some stupid comment.

Azzi disappeared back into her room to change, and I tried to refocus on my work, but when she came back out, looking more awake and dressed in sweats, I found myself sneaking glances at her again. This was getting ridiculous.

As the study session dragged on, I realized I was completely lost on one of my assignments. Everyone else seemed equally confused doing their own thing, except for Azzi, who was calmly working through her own tasks. I knew I had no choice—I had to ask her for help. But the thought made my stomach twist.

After a few minutes of struggling, I finally caved. “Hey, Azzi,” I called over, trying to keep my voice neutral. “Can you help me with this?” She looked up, surprised, but quickly nodded. “Sure.”

I expected her to just explain it from across the room, but instead, she got up and came to sit next to me. My heart pounded as she settled in beside me, her shoulder brushing against mine. I tried to focus on the work, but her presence was overwhelming. We hadn’t been this close in years. She leaned in a little too close, her hair brushing against my arm, and all I could think about was the scent of vanilla and strawberries that clung to her skin. Get a grip P.

“See, this part here…” Azzi began explaining, her voice calm and patient, but I could barely process her words. All I could focus on was how close she was, the warmth radiating off her body, the way her pink and plump lips moved as she spoke. I almost smiled at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was, supposedly hating this girl, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about how good she smelled or how soft her skin looked. It was infuriating, and I hated myself for it.

I forced myself to concentrate, nodding along as Azzi explained the problem to me. I was determined not to let her see how flustered I was. But the more I tried to focus, the more distracted I became. Her closeness was driving me crazy, and I had no idea why.

Eventually, the study session wrapped up, and everyone started packing up their things to head back to their apartments. I was relieved when Azzi moved away from me to help clean up. I needed space to breathe, to get my head on straight.

As I stood up to leave, I caught a glimpse of Caroline teasing Azzi about how close we’d been sitting earlier. I figured what’s the harm in eavesdropping just a little. Azzi laughed it off, but her response made my heart clench.

“She still hates me, Caroline,” Azzi said with a shrug. “I have no idea why, but it’s whatever.”

No idea?

Caroline chuckled. “You sure about that? I saw the way she was looking at you.”

I quickly turned away, pretending I hadn’t heard anything, but my mind was racing. Azzi thought I hated her..well I guess that’s what it would seem like. I thought rubbing my temples. I wasn’t even sure anymore. All I knew was that something about her being here, being so close to me…was driving me absolutely insane and I needed it to stop.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

You are now reading Part 4 of my series!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You smile as you wave the flag down, signaling the beginning of tonight’s race. Walking to where Mina was, you sigh and drop the flag unceremoniously. Katsuki wasn’t racing tonight, opting to stay and spectate instead. A grin makes its way onto his face when he notices your figure nearing closer, pulling a chair next to his as he gestures for you to sit there. With a grumble, you move his hands away from his lap and plop straight onto of him. His arms instinctively wrap around your midsection, pulling you close to his chest.

“Someone’s in a bad mood tonight.” You can hear Mina’s snicker as she walks away. “Leave me alone,” you whine, slumping into his hold. The buzz of alcohol makes your mood even more sulky, and there’s nothing more that you want than to close your eyes and fall into a deep slumber, surrounded by Katsuki’s warmth.

No, the two of you weren’t a thing—yet. You and Katsuki had been on multiple dates, each one better than the last, and somehow, he never failed to surprise you. But neither of you had put a label on what you were. Kaminari couldn’t stand it anymore. “You two are the biggest idiots on the planet,” he’d groan, often rolling his eyes at the obvious chemistry that neither of you fully addressed. After enough frustration, he started calling you ‘Dynamite’s girl’.

And honestly, you didn’t mind it. In fact, you kind of loved it. The idea of being his made your heart skip a beat, though you’d never admit it out loud. When Katsuki first heard the nickname, his reaction was classic. A scowl paired with “stupid fuckin dunceface and his crazy names”, but he never bothered correcting it. Instead, anytime he heard it, he’d immediately turn to you with that stupidly handsome lopsided grin of his.

Of course you felt special, knowing that out of everyone, you were the one people associated with Katsuki Bakugo. The same guy who could tear through a racetrack at lightning speed, the guy who bent the crowd to his will, making them chant his name over and over again, like a mantra.

He wasn’t one for big, romantic declarations, but his actions spoke volumes. The way his hand lingered on your back when you stood beside him, the subtle, protective way he’d guide you through crowds, the silent exchanges between you that no one else understood. It was enough for now, even without the label. You knew it would come eventually—when Katsuki was ready to say it out loud.

Mina’s voice cut your train of thoughts, causing you to rub your eyes and look up to find her sauntering over to you, a blonde-haired girl behind her. “Guys, meet the new flag girl!"

New flag girl?

Kirishima piped in. “No offence babe, but don’t we have two already?” He means both you and Mina, but she shrugs, “We’ll do shifts. I’m tired.”

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach as you turned to face the new flag girl. She had curly silver hair tied up in a high ponytail, and her outfit—a snug tank top and shorts—drew attention in all the right ways.

“I’m Emiko, love the eyeliner.” she said with a smile, showcasing a set of straight white teeth. You managed a small wave in response, looking away quickly.

“Yeah, great to meet you,” you replied, forcing a smile while your mind buzzed with questions. Didn’t Mina know how much you loved being part of the action?

“Just think of me as your backup,” the cheery girl said, her grin wide. “Mina mentioned she needed someone to fill in. I can’t wait to help.” She seemed genuinely excited, and you hated that you couldn’t muster up the same enthusiasm.

You turned to Katsuki, hoping for some reassurance, but he was too busy focused on the track, lines creasing his forehead in concentration as the racers completed their eighth lap.

It made you relieved that he wasn’t paying attention to her in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be my main girl!” Mina chirped, nudging you playfully. You forced a laugh, but it felt hollow.

“Sure,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I just hope she knows what she’s doing.”

Closing your eyes, you intertwined your fingers with Bakugo’s, feeling him squeezing it gently and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

The clinking of bottles paired with laughter caused you to stir awake. Tears clouded your vision as you yawned. Sitting up, you were aware that you were, surprisingly, still in Katsuki’s lap, his arm around your shoulders, still holding you close.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you looked around, the scent of grilled food and beer filling the air.

“Can you believe Sero actually pulled that off?” Kaminari exclaimed, his voice ringing out over the din. “Thought he was going to crash and burn for sure!”

“Honestly, I was ready to collect my losses,” Kyoka added, leaning back against her chair, her purple hair cascading over her shoulders. “But Sero has a knack for surprising everyone.”

“Never underestimate the man with a plan,” Kirishima chimed in, raising his bottle in salute to Sero, who was soaking in the attention with a smug grin. “Cheers to our winning streak!”

Mina poured another round of drinks, her laughter infectious as she teased Sero about how much he had bet on the race. “I can’t believe you actually put down that much money! What were you thinking?”

“Thinking I’d make bank, obviously!” Sero shot back, raising his bottle. “And look at me now! I’m basically a millionaire!”

Everyone burst out into laughter, but the one that caught your ears was definitely Emiko’s. It was soft and melodical.

As the conversation flowed, you felt a pang of jealousy in your chest as Emiko leaned closer to your Katsuki, her smile wide and tipsy. “So, Katsuki, do you ever get nervous before a race? You always look so confident.” Since when was she on a first name basis with him?

Her words were like gasoline to your spark of jealousy, creating a full blown fire. Emiko leaning closer to your Katsuki, all smiles and admiration—it grated on you. Since when had she gotten so comfortable with him? The way she casually dropped his first name, like they’d been friends for years, made your blood boil.

Katsuki, for his part, was being way too nonchalant about it. “Nah, just focus on the road. You either win or you don’t. Simple as that,” he shrugged, his response as laid-back as ever, but it didn’t seem to matter to Emiko.

She giggled—actually giggled—like he’d just said the most profound thing in the world. “Wow, that’s so cool! I wish I could be that calm,” she gushed, her admiration spilling over. “I get nervous just doing karaoke!”

The group laughed, but it only made the irritation rising in your chest grow stronger. Why was she trying so hard? And why was she being so obvious about it?

“Yeah, well, just gotta have the right mindset,” Katsuki said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. The same smirk he gave you when he was showing off, when he wanted to impress you. Except now, he was giving it to her.

That was the last straw.

You pushed his hand away from where it rested on your waist, his eyes narrowing in confusion, but you didn’t care. "I’m going to the bathroom," you announced, your voice sharp enough to make everyone pause for a second. Without waiting for a response, you turned and made your way through the crowd, Jirou silently standing up to follow you.

The second you were in the bathroom, you let out a long, exasperated groan. “She’s getting on my nerves.”

Jirou, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, eyed you through the reflection in the mirror. “You’re being too hard on her,” she said, finally breaking her silence. “She’s a sweet kid.”

You turned to her, your face scrunching in disbelief. “A sweet kid? You’re kidding, right?” You pulled out your mascara, trying to focus on touching up your makeup. “So I’m the only one who’s getting a bad rap from her?”

Before Jirou could respond, a knock echoed from the other side of the door.

“Uh, y/n? You in there?”

Turning around, you gave Jirou a pointed look as if to say, ‘are you serious right now?’, to which she shrugged and opened the door. “Yeah, we’re in here… Emiko.”

Emiko stepped in, blowing out a breath and fixing her bangs. “Oh good, I thought for a second you wouldn’t have left Katsuki alone.” She stood beside you, puckering her lips at the mirror and giving herself a once-over.

Who does this bitch thinks she is?

“Excuse me?” you turn to her in disbelief. There was no way she just said that.

Emiko smiled at you, a little too sweetly. “Hm?” she cocked a brow, that clearly wasn’t innocent. You scoffed inwardly, figuring out her intentions within a flash.

“What? Don’t tell me you actually think he’s interested in you. You should’ve seen the way he looks at me. It’s cute, really. Seeing that he gave me all his attention.” She rambles, not knowing how ridiculous she sounded.

Your hands clenched into fists and your mouth parted slightly, about to give her the cussing of the century for vexing you…

“Leave her be, y/n.” Jirou tugs on your hand, holding it behind your back. If there’s one thing she knew about you, it’s that you can hold your own in a fight. And as much as she would love to see you kick ass tonight, she knows that neither of you were in the right mindset.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and walked away.

The loud clang of the bathroom door was enough warning to Jirou that you wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. So, she did what any bestie would do and took off right behind you.

You hastily grabbed your sweater and purse, checking inside to make sure your phone was still there.

Katsuki stood up after he made two attempts to attract your attention with no avail. He jogged over to you, holding your wrist gently. “Oi. ’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. I’m heading home for tonight… I’m tired.” You mumbled the last part, but he still caught on. You tugged your wrist away from his warm hand, immediately regretting it but too prideful to hold it back.

“Kay, I’ll drop ya home.” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, searching his pockets for the keys to his Bugatti Chiron. You hold your hand up, “It’s fine. Kyoka is called an uber. We’re walking up to the intersection to meet him there in,” you look at your watch ��…five minutes.”

“’S late, lemme walk you at least.”  He persists, giving you that boyish grin that makes you weak in the knees. Against your better judgement, you nod, and he secretly does a fist pump.

Upon reaching the gates, you catch sight of Kyoka and Kaminari, hugging tightly. “Ready?” she asks, catching sight of you. “Whenever you are.” You smile as she entangles your hand with hers and leads the way to the intersection, the two guys trailing behind you.

Katsuki and Kaminari walk a few steps behind you and Kyoka, their presence providing an aura of protection and comfort as their eyes scan the street, making sure no creep comes too close. Kyoka has the bright idea to whip out her phone and snap a quick picture of the four of you walking together. She leans over to show you, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.

You chuckle. “Tag me when you post it on your Insta. Looks like we have scary dog privileges.”

“Hey, that’s a good caption!” she beams, typing away.

The Uber pulls up to the curb not long after, and Kyoka turns to Kaminari without hesitation. She grabs his hand and pulls him in for a kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair. It's soft, slow, and so effortless, and for a moment, the world seems to pause around them. Kaminari looks genuinely content, his arms wrapping around her waist as he reciprocates. They look like the perfect couple out of a fairytale, and that makes you happy for your bestfriend.

But… you feel a pang in your chest, glancing away as their moment stretches on. Katsuki watches them too, his eyes flicking to you after a second. He doesn't say anything, but you can see it—he’s waiting, hoping for you to do the same.

Instead of kissing him, you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. He tenses for a split second before pulling you closer, his hands coming to rest on your back, holding you tight. It's not what he was expecting, and you know it. "Good night, Katsuki," you whisper, the words barely loud enough for him to hear before you step back.

He looks down at you, confused, his brows furrowing slightly. You can tell he's not sure what just happened, but he doesn’t push it. “Message me when you get home,” he says, his voice low and gruff, though there’s a hint of something else there too. You nod, offering a small smile before turning away.

As Kyoka and you slide into the back seat of the Uber, you glance out the window one last time. Katsuki’s still standing there, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes trained on you, even as the car slowly moves away.

Kyoka nudges you, with a smile. “You know you’re driving him nuts, right?”

You let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back against the seat. “Yeah… I know.”

Taglist:

@yoyolovesdaiki @gabz38 @tojiswifereal @fleouris @lovra974 @anjodedesgostoeerros

[vacayisland]

Could you do a John Dory x Retired Singer/Musician Reader? Pls and thank you

(I loved meet the wifie I fucking cackled at "imma beat his ass!")

@!; Oldies are always better. John Dory / Retired! Reader

"Tag List"! @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq @apieceofcathair3 @kitthefanfickat

ꨄ︎. You were a big alt-indie musician, making music that tended to have a little bit of everything; the funk and beat of the funk tribe and the techno tribe, the guitar riffs and drum solos from the rock tribe, some classical instruments as undertones, and pop-like lyrics and beats. All the while you also put your own spin on it. Music had always been an outlet for you, always allowed you to take what was in your head and thread it into sound for everyone to hear. Sometimes it was chaotic, sometimes it was mellow, and it always depended on your mood when writing, composing, and singing. It's usually was drew people to your music. It was down to Earth, yet also complex and simple at the same time. Those who wanted to dive into the meaning of your music and dissect it would find multiple layers, many undertones that all harmonized. Those who just wanted to vibe out to your music could do that as well.

ꨄ︎. When you had left your career behind, it wasn't because of anything bad. You left with one final song in which explained that you were stepping down to let the new generation to find their own flow, to let other people take the stage, to be able to sit back and enjoy everything that will come in the future. You were only around 24 when you put down your guitar for the final time for the public; But you never gave up music for good on your own. While you never published anything anymore, you kept writing and composing for yourself as it was truly your passion.

ꨄ︎. This is when JD found you, playing in a friend's cafe. You had caught his attention right away, so much so he didn't hear the waiter when he had asked for JD's order. He was honestly so captivated by you for a moment he wondered if you were some sort of siren. He soon realized, yeah no you weren't, you just were really, really good. And he needed your number, badly. And that sounded a little creepy, but when you see someone who's not only good looking but knows how to sing and play an instrument all in one? You don't miss that chance to talk them up, and JD was defiantly not missing his chance!

ꨄ︎. JD didn't see a ring on your finger, it was fair game for him. Luckily you hadn't been seeing anyone at the time, but you still gave him a reality check after he approached you as though he was the coolest guy on the planet; Introducing himself before using some sort of cheesy pick up line to get your number. "Hey, babe, my name is John Dory and you seem rather lonely. You know, I can fill that 'me' shaped hole in your heart if you give me your number!" And then he winked!? Your friend was flabbergasted. You thought he was really brave.

ꨄ︎. And you hate to admit that his stupid pick-up line (which didn't even seem like a pick-up line!) actually worked and he got your number. (And he would be so smug and proud about this fact for the rest of his life.)

ꨄ︎. You two talked for a few months before making anything official, and then you waited about a year or two before you two even thought about moving in together. Even so, by 6 months of dating you basically lived in Rhonda; Your stuff littered his home, you had your own set of clothes there, your own toothbrush, and even your own house slippers. Then when you moved in, it felt natural. It felt like this was where you were always meant to end up and somehow the planets aligned. And for some reason JD never noticed the fact you brought in an electric guitar, which also sat in your shared closet. Sometimes you wonder if he's just stupid or a little blind, because he's also seen your play.

ꨄ︎. Either way, one day when he was hoisting his brothers over (after the whole Floyd situation got resolved, and god you were kind of glad you were staying with friends during all of that; not because you didn't like his brothers but because you didn't think you could handle meeting his family during that whole situation.) when they heard you playing your guitar in the bedroom. You weren't doing anything fancy, mostly tuning the guitar and making sure the strings didn't need to be replaced. But, of course, that always had to include one of your most iconic guitar riffs from a song about fighting your crushing mentality during the lowest part of your career. "Holy shit dude, I didn't know your lover listened to (Y/N)!" Branch would be the first to comment, being the most diverse music listener in the family. Floyd, who had been distracted by the riff, perked up at the conversation and nodded in agreement. JD only gave them a confused look, leaning against his kitchen counter, "Dude, my lover is (Y/N)?" And JD wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't all four of his brothers stopping and staring at him completely baffled. Mostly Floyd and Branch, who soon yelled a rather loud, "WHAT?!" "What?!" Which only confused JD more.

ꨄ︎. You hadn't met JD's family before this point, but you've heard all about them; Not only from JD, when he told you about his band days, and when you heard them around the trailer when they would come over. Usually you stayed in the bedroom, not to be rude yet to just let JD have his time with his brothers. Yet, you couldn't understand what all the yelling was about, "Yo, Que te pasa? Why the hell are you guys yelling?" You would ask, poking your head out of the door to the bedroom. Your expression tired, your hair messier, yet you could care less at this moment; You were sure JD's brothers wouldn't mind, they would see you worse later on since you were planning to stay with that big doofus. "Oh my god-" You flinched when Floyd dropped the cup he was holding, his jaw dropping upon seeing you; And honestly, for a second, you forgot you used to be a big artist. "John Dory," You started, startled by the reactions his brothers were giving, "Vas a decirme lo que esta pasando ahora mismo."

ꨄ︎. JD is always a little intimidated when you speak Spanish, mostly because his Grandma used to scold him and his brothers in Spanish. So he only explained (rather quickly) how his brothers had heard you tuning your guitar in the bedroom and how they just got weird. And that's when Branch defended himself, along with Floyd, how JD never told them that you were his lover! "And what's it to you that I love your brother?" You shot back quick and snappy, crossing your arms as you shot a glare their way. You weren't above throwing hands with JD's brothers. Floyd noticed the way JD glanced away, sipping his coffee. He was quick to stand up, placing a hand on Branch's shoulder to calm him, before explaining the whole situation to you better; Saying how Branch and Floyd were just big fans of your music and they didn't realize that you were with JD, because no matter how much JD spoke about you he never told them that you were his lover.

ꨄ︎. "Oh, Mierda lo siento." God, this made things a little awkward, "I thought you were about to be one of those horrible step-siblings that didn't like his brother's lover for some dumb reason like my hair." "What? No!-" "No, yeah, I see that now. My bad, really sorry." You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, "JD can be really, really dense sometimes, shut it John Dory!," You pointed a finger at JD before he could make a peep in protest about your slight insult, but it was made out of full love. "Let's start over, hi I'm (Y/n) and it's really nice to meet you."

ꨄ︎. Safe to say, JD forgot to tell his brothers that he was dating an old sensational artist...and kind of forgot you were one and was very shocked to realize this! Furthermore, you were a little flabbergasted when he revealed that some of BroZone's songs were influenced by your music. You would stare at JD after he confessed such a large secret, "Wow... that's a big insult." You mumbled sarcastically under your breath. "EXCUSE ME?!" But you guessed JD missed the sarcasm. "I'm being sarcastic, love. That's kind of sweet." Playfully rolling your eyes, you pressed a kiss into JD's cheek before turning back to his brothers. You crossed your legs, rested your elbow against your knee, and held your face in your hands. "Now about you four, how about we get to actually know each other. I'm planning to remain in this family after all..."

ꨄ︎. Safe to say that JD is wifing/husbanding/etc. you up really quick.

ꨄ︎. He still brags about how he first got your number and how he managed to 'snatch you up' before anyone else could. You told him he's too old to use new lingo and to stop, lovingly of course as you didn't want your 'husband' to embarrass himself. He melted hearing you call him husband before getting a bigger ego boost; And you had fun watching him terrorize his siblings while his ego was so inflated. You even jokingly did the whole 'I'm watching you' eyes to one of his brothers (Clay) as a silent threat that this is how you were always going to hand JD off to them like. He gave you the biggest (playful) stink eye ever. Yeah, you're going to fit right into this family.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[genericpuff]

oh boy it's that time again

when rachel posts 'video progress' of her work and we proceed to dissect it like a frog in 9th grade science class

like ok first the caption of "is persephone the chicken and hades the egg" makes no fucking sense except to anyone who overthinks it and goes "wait is that a reference to the popularly-perpetuated version of the myth where persephone went down to the underworld willingly and hades didn't actually exist???" because if it is ima scream lmao

but MORE IMPORTANTLY-

Here's the transcript of what she's saying in the video:

"I think I've always wanted to write Hades' and Persephone's story because obviously I really like them. It's like very much a chicken and egg situation because I think in the beginning I thought that I was going to use a very abstract black and white style, and I realized it wasn't very enticing or fun for me, um... and I started drawing these very like vibrant characters and as I drew them I understood more about the story the more that I explored the art style, um and I guess an example of that is, y'know, Persephone is like a very bright color um, and the Underworld, is a very dark dark blue, and so when she says she really sticks out so it's just environmental uh processes like that that really helped inspire the direction of the story."

(despite her expanding on the "chicken and the egg" bit it still doesn't make sense imo lmao)

But what we're seeing isn't S1 LO, it's actually from S3 of LO:

But um... you notice anything interesting about the screenshot I just showed you?

That literally looks NOTHING like what we see in the final panel. At the VERY least I think this goes to show how overcooked it becomes in post-production, when they add the canvas layer and hypersaturate the shit out of the colors, but even the blending technique just isn't matching up?

A lot of what she's doing in this video also feels very... non-existent, like she's brushing her pen around but very little is happening so it feels more like her just putting down random brush strokes to try and make it seem put-together but really she's just kind of pushing colors around and/or doing nothing. Especially when, again, what she's painting here looks nothing like the final picture (so at best it's a lot of wasted work??)

And knowing what we know about the assistants drawing the characters separately so that Rachel can rearrange them in the final episode layout... I don't wanna call foul play here, but this feels like yet another attempt on Rachel's behalf to make her process seem more involved than it is by simply redrawing a scene for the performative aspect of it all. It's like the "sketches" in the books looking way too 'clean' for the final product and giving the impression that she just sketched over the final panels to make them look pretty enough for print.

I also wanna mention that for some reason she's drawing this on her iPad when she owns a Cintiq. It could be because she was drawing this while abroad in the US for her conventions last fall, but despite clearly being ahead of schedule, she still wound up drawing the final episode the night of-

Oh yeah and btw there are like a million clipping layers for what looks like just a simple drawing of Demeter. And this lines up with our previous theories about her using like 128549021809 layers for literally one character.

And aside from all that her commentary, as always, is very nothingburger, just a bunch of word salad. Like she's literally trying to explain LO's color theory as "well Persephone is bright pink and the Underworld is dark blue so she sticks out! That's all you need to know!"

IDK, I'm not coming to any sort of ironclad conclusion based off this one video, but it does feel like yet another desperate attempt to prove that she does work on LO and doesn't just leave it all to her assistants to do at the last minute. But like... she's kind of screwed in that argument either way, because even if she draws the majority of panels in LO, that just further proves the argument that she's stopped trying.

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch. 2

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: major themes of injury, depression, and hopelessness. 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Reviewed and edited by the lovely @tobbi-loves-levi whom I am endlessly grateful for~

previous chapter / masterlist

Heat radiates up from the pan over your wrist as you cook your breakfast, stirring mindlessly as you lose yourself in thought. The rattle of your phone against the counter interrupts you. Turning the stove on low you flip your phone over from its downward position to see Levi’s contact illuminating the screen. Immediately your chest tightens up. It’s only been two days since you last spoke to him. You let it ring for a few seconds before slowly sliding your thumb across the screen to answer. 

“Hello?” You hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“Morning,” Levi starts, his tone causing your nerves to fray more than they already were. “I reviewed everything you sent over and drew up a recovery plan. If possible, I’d like to go over it in person.” It’s still overwhelming to know just who it is you’re talking to.

“Okay sure.. When?” You ask. 

“Today?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Moving things along this quickly isn’t exactly what you expected to happen. “Yeah, I can make it in today.” You confirm. 

“Eleven work for you?” He asks. 

You glance over at the clock on the stove, seeing you had more than enough time to get ready “Perfect.” 

“Alright. Sina training center, left wing. My office is on the second floor. I’ll text you the address. See you then.” He hangs up and seconds later your phone buzzes with the address as promised. 

***

Sina Training Center is on the opposite side of town from the arena you trained at for Worlds. Having lived in this city for less than a year you’ve only ever seen it in passing. When you finally find a place to park it’s quite the walk before you make it inside, and when you do you’re shocked by the size of this place. It’s a huge lobby, different areas lead you to sport specific sections of the building. 

You head left and follow the signs that direct you towards the ice sports wing. On your way to the elevator you pass by the large window. Ice is on full display through this window, causing your stomach to tighten. You stop and observe as three girls train with their respective coaches on the ice. An ache grows in your chest as you watch them. 

When you step off the elevator onto the second floor and make your way into the waiting room, there’s a man standing in front of the door that leads to the offices looking down at an iPad. You walk up with the intention of politely getting past him, but when he looks up to face you your heart stops.

That scar is unmistakable. A clean cut that trailed from above his eyebrow all the way down through his lip. Small dots on either side from the stitches even after all this time, and a white glaze over his right eye. Even so, the man in front of you was breathtaking. It was definitely him. 

“Wouldn’t have made it very far,” he breaks the silence causing you to snap out of it, and you definitely feel like an ass for staring. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He quickly shifts to the left of the door revealing a key card scanner, “and I never mentioned which office was mine.” He sounds just like he did on the phone, so.. abstruse? If this wasn’t a professional setting you’d believe he already hated you.

 “Levi.” He states, extending his hand out for you to shake. You can’t help but stare. You’re standing in front of one of the most unrivaled skaters, even the accident couldn’t take that title from him. 

“Nice to meet you.” You finally muster up. He’s silent for a moment, seemingly observing you.  

“Likewise.” He finally says before looking back down and wrapping up whatever it was he was doing on the iPad. He holds it at his hip and digs through his pocket, pulling out a blue lanyard with the training center's logo lined across it, at the end hangs a small white card. “This is yours.” He says. You grab it from him and take a look. It’s a key card with a barcode and your name printed on it. “This will get you into any area designated for skaters, and past this door to my office.” You swear you can hear his voice lift at the second half of that sentence. “Follow me.” You nod as he leads you back into the elevator. Once you’re on the main floor again he points to the rink you passed on your way in. 

“That's the common rink, used for general training and classes.” He explains, leading you in the opposite direction down the hall and stopping at a pair of double doors. He presses his key card against the reader on the wall and quickly walks in as they open. When you follow in behind him, you’re stunned to see another large common area lined with equipment shops and a small snack bar section. To the right are two more ice rinks, one immediately to the right of the door you came in and the other’s entrance on the far wall straight across. “Those are the specialty rinks, I call them the rehab rinks.'' He starts, heading in that direction. “They both serve the same purpose though, one is generally used for the hockey team to train off-season. Eventually, we’ll be over there in the third one.” He gestures for you to follow him inside, scanning his card at the entrance. Your breathing nearly seizes. This is the closest you’ve been to the ice since February. 

“It’s our smallest rink. Reserved specifically for those recovering from injury who need a less congested area to work in.” He walks the edge of the boards with you in tow, eyes glued to the ice the entire time. “Locker rooms.” He says. You almost ran straight into him not noticing he had stopped to point them out. 

Circling back and crossing the large common area with you, he scans his key again. “This is the gym, and past that door is the PT area.” he points past another set of locker rooms. You’re already so overwhelmed, even for you this entire building was so high profile. You felt out of place. “For the next few weeks, we’ll be spending most of our time here.” 

You're so sick of physical therapy and just want to be back on the ice already.

As the two of you walk back out towards the elevators to get to his office, he looks over to you. “Do not use any facility without me there with you for now.” He says, and you can tell he’s serious.

***

Levi pulls a folder from his desk as you sit across from him. “Your current recovery plan is nauseating.” He says bluntly, dropping the folder onto the desk. 

You’re stunned by the quick change in his tone. “Excuse me?” 

“First of all, they set you up for failure before you even left the hospital.” He starts, pulling out printed copies of everything you sent over from the folder. “Ice? Really? Are we still living in the stone ages?” He scoffs “You should have been doing small movements for that ankle since day one, and I don’t see any recommendations here for that.” 

“There wasn’t..” You confirm, eyes so wide they could fall out of your skull. It was hard to believe how involved with your recovery he was, not expecting him to review your progress from day one. You figured he would just pick up along with where you already were. 

“Of course, and you weren’t referred to the proper resources. Standard physical therapy would never have gotten you back on that ice. It’s up to you but I think you’d do better full time here.” He says, shaking his head. “Christ, did your coach do literally anything for you?” 

You wince at the mention of Coach Tarasov, having ghosted her after she drove you home from the hospital. You haven’t reached out since, positive it’s too late now. Getting a new coach was just another thing you’d have to do to get yourself back up. “I didn’t really give her the chance to..” 

Levi hummed in response. “You moved on from basic balance too fast, that’s why you’re struggling so badly now. Balance is the most important part of this, you’re a figure skater. We’ll start our assessments there.” 

“I don’t have the time to start over.” You reply immediately. 

“Do you think you’ll have time when this happens again because you re-injured yourself?” He asks flatly and the question sinks deep. “You won’t, and we’re not starting over. I’m assessing where we are now.” 

We. 

“Okay.. you’re right.” You exhale and let yourself lean back into the chair. 

“I know I am.” He pulls all of the pages back together and slips them back inside your folder. “Three days a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, seven to eight?” He asks as if it were a question. 

“Yes, that works.” You affirm. This was your only option and you had a feeling he knew that too.

He nods and pulls another packet out, sliding it towards you. “Review and sign these.” He says. Flipping through it you recognise it’s the plan he just went over with you, and you sign when prompted. He reaches his hand beside his computer and slides you another white card. “For the parking garage.” 

*** 

The next day you park in the garage and it’s a much easier walk inside, considering it happens to be attached to the skating wing of the training center. You scan your way in and head through the gym, and into the physical therapy room once you throw your stuff into a locker. 

When you walk into the room you see Levi talking to what you assume to be another employee. He’s tall, muscular, blond. It looks like he’s actually enjoying their conversation. The discussion seems to stop when Levi’s eyes find you, and he gestures for you to follow him. Racing to catch up with him, you see the man eye the both of you before turning to leave. 

“Who's that?” Curiosity gets the best of you. 

“Erwin, he’s a personal trainer in another wing.” Levi responds without delay. “Sometimes comes and bothers me between appointments.” As harsh as that sounded, you could tell it came from a place of adoration.

Levi has you sit down after taking your shoes off. You’ve been here before, it’s the same place you got assessments done the first time. You watch as he kneels down and sets the tablet beside him on the mat, gently pressing his thumbs into the front of your ankle and asking you to move your foot in several directions. He feels like a different person in this room than he was in the office or on the phone. He’s gentle and precise, jotting down notes in between every test he does, and making sure you’re comfortable. He's way more involved than your last therapist and you haven’t even gotten past the assessment. 

“Let’s try something.” Getting back onto his feet, he walks across the room and grabs an object from the ground. You immediately recognize it as a balance board. It’s a flat square board with a rounded bottom. He places it down on the floor and gestures you over. “Go ahead and step up here.” He reaches his hand out for you to grab. You nervously place your hand in his and step onto the board with your left foot, relying on Levi to support you while you find your balance. 

“Great.” He encourages, his tone setting off tiny flutters in your stomach as you attempt to balance yourself. He takes a small step back, seamlessly supporting the weight you’re pushing onto his hand. “I’m going to let go, see how you do here.” He says and waits for you to center yourself before slowly pulling away. He continues to hold his hands out in front of you, palms facing up so you can hover yours above incase you need help with balancing. 

Immediately after he retracts his hand your ankle shakes, a reminder of just how far behind you are. A few seconds later discomfort takes over, sending a sting up the inside of your leg. You let your fingertips fall onto his, your eye twitches as you try to avoid relying on him for balance. 

“How does that feel?” 

“It kind of hurts.”

“Stop.” He grabs your hand and helps you back down off the board. “Then we aren’t there yet.” He comments, jotting the notes down quickly. 

You let out a sigh, this is what you meant when you said you couldn’t afford to start over. “I should be on the board by now.” You think out loud. 

“Not if it hurts.” He quips, letting the iPad rest against his hip from the strap hanging off his shoulder. “If you can’t balance on that board you won’t be able to balance on a blade.” 

“I’ve been in therapy for weeks,” your thoughts quickly spiral, having the determination to recover means nothing if your body works so hard against you. “If I can’t get back on the ice by-“ 

“I’ll get you back on the ice.” 

Your thoughts lapse. The way he said it with such certainty makes you want to believe him that much more. 

“Look, I told you your last program was shit,” he sounds like he’s trying to be comforting “it’s not going to happen overnight, and definitely not with that attitude.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that. You know he’s right. Again. 

Levi leads you to the center of the room for mobility stretches, another exercise you’re more than familiar with. He watches as you shift your weight onto your right leg and tip your left foot outward, it doesn’t hurt but the pull is uncomfortable. You inhale harshly through your nose, pushing further against the strain. 

“Don’t force it.” Levi instructs, keeping a close eye on your form. 

You switch from stretching to the side to stretching your ankle forward. After going back and forth between the two for about 5 minutes Levi stops you again, moving on to the stationary board for heel lifts. You step up and let your heels hang off the back of the board, every raise has your ankle shaking. You watch Levi in the mirror in front of you, he has a peculiar look on his face. He slowly kneels down behind you to watch closely as you continue to rise up and down on the board. 

“Stop, get down.” Levi says firmly.

You oblige, immediately stepping back down onto the padded floor. Levi picks up the tablet and starts quickly swiping across the screen, eyebrows raised and lips pressed in a flat line. 

“Your old therapist,” he starts, still quickly filing through pages on the iPad, “did they massage that ankle.” 

“No.” You confirm his suspicions. 

“‘Course they didn’t.” He mumbles, rolling his eyes as he lets the iPad fall back down against his side. “It’s stiff.” He’s already walking back toward the tables.

You follow behind him nervously, sitting up on the table when prompted. You watch as he methodically washes his hands in a nearby sink. When he comes back he tells you to lay back. He stands at the end of the table, gently bending your foot toward him. You chew the inside of your lip as he slips his hand under your heel, pressing his thumb gently behind your ankle bone and guiding the pressure up. Your breath catches at the slight discomfort but it's slowly replaced by a sense of relief. He continues in that same upward direction, adding a gentle circular motion after a few moments. You turn your head away, fidgeting with your shirt as your heart rate seems to accelerate. 

You aren't sure what it is about him. From the moment you knew you’d be working with him it’s all you could think about. At first you chalked it up to admiration. Maybe it was the way he cared, even underneath all the dry conversation and formalities you could tell. Or maybe it’s the way he carries himself. Could be that he’s stunning, like a sunset that perfectly contrasts a clear blue sky. Even now, when he's right in front of you he takes up your mind. Just when you entertain it, imagine his hand sliding up your leg–

“Let’s try again.” His voice startles you out of your thoughts. 

You stand back on the board and Levi kneels down again. You lift up once more and your eyes widen slightly. Not only has the discomfort decreased but your ankle doesn’t shake as bad. It’s not perfect, you still feel the tightness and resistance. That last thing you expected was to make progress during your first session with him. You snap your attention to him, back on the tablet adding data. The corner of his lip upturned in a subtle smirk like he just found the last missing piece of an unfinished puzzle. 

“It was healing stiff.” He comments, switching you to another exercise. “You’re lucky we caught it when we did.” 

“It’s reversible?” You ask, but it comes out as more of a plea. 

“It is.” he confirms. You leave the session that day with a detailed print out of exercises from Levi, instructed to do them in the afternoon of your session days and twice a day otherwise. 

That night as you do them, his voice echoes in your thoughts 

I’ll get you back on the ice.

***

From that point on, your sessions start with a fifteen minute meticulous ankle massage. By the end of the first two weeks you can hold your balance on one foot for thirty seconds with minimal shaking.

Throughout your third week you make miraculous progress. You’re up to forty five seconds of balance on one foot, and painless single heel lifts off the floor and the stationary balance board. 

The last 10 minutes of your Friday session Levi has you balance on one foot and places a tennis ball down directly in front of you. 

“Pick it up.” 

You nod, extending your leg behind you as you slowly bend your knee. Once you have the ball in your hand you slowly rise back up, placing it back in Levi’s hand. He shifts over, setting the ball down to your right. Again, you lower yourself down and back up on one foot with ease. One last time he sets the ball down to your left. When you drop it back in his hand you bring your elevated foot back down to stay stable. He lets out a satisfied huff and walks away, returning with the balance board from a few weeks back and drops it down. He helps you up and this time you pull away from him, quick to neutralize your weight. You make it look easy now.

“Not bad.” His tone sounds indifferent but he has that same look in his eyes, he has it every time you hit a milestone. 

Like every win is yours to share.

On your way out, Levi stops to face you. He opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it again, seeming to second guess himself. “See you next week.” 

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep 

@thechaoticarchivist @sixpennydame 

[kristinhateslife]

Okay so last night I was having an "art style panic"? I guess you could call it that? But I was feeling really bad, so i started drawing other peoples art styles and picking points and peaces out of it!

I did this last night when I was really tired and i used a pen so the drawings may not be how i usually do my drawings haha

Ok so first up we have @emjoyzhos-ej !! I recently just found your account but you have a very cool style!!

•Your skull shape is very unique, very rectangle

•your lines are very sketchy (most people I follow have this trait in their art..)

•when you color it looks like you mayy have rook inspiration from itsxroxannex? Idk i wrote that down, maybe it's not true but I guess i thought that last night

But I love your style! Your art is so cool and I had fun trying to replicate it!

Next we have @milkybnnuy ! Omg so I really like you!! Your art is sooo good

•You draw a lot of fell, so i made the drawing of killer like how you made that one fell killer drawing

•when you color you have a very paintly-style and that's cool!!

•your skull shape reminds me of an egg (i guess thats why i said "egg head" last night)

Up in the top I wrote "I did not replicate your art properly enough," and that's true! Your art is so unique and different from what i usually drew so i had a hard time replicating it! But nonetheless, i had a fun time trying and hope you ain't disappointed lol

Btw- I really like the way you draw your fuzz on hoods!! So satisfying to look at!

And now we go onto @voidzphere !

I've followed you for a while, and you're cool to be around and I like when you post! Though i had a hard time finding the art hidden around, I still was able to replicate it (luckily i chose to draw killer for this haha)

•so I see that you usually draw/post doodles, unless i just didn't scroll down far enough haha (plz tell me if you have drawn something big i wanna see)

•I noticed you have more pointy and thicker lines

•you have a certain way you draw your Skulls, I can't really put a shape or object here to describe it

Even though I couldn't find more drawings, I still tried! I hope you like it, friend, cause u cool

Here is @cherrio-krispz ! I just started following you last night, like seriously I had to search you up just now to figure out who you were cuz I forgot, but when i saw your art I immediately recognized you

•you have a very recognizable style!

•again, i did not replicate well.

•very painty-like when color

•sketchy lines, seems like you don't do line art?

•I like ur skulls, they look like skulls

OMG I'VE BEEN WAITING TO TALK ABOUT YOU. YOU. YOUUU. @somegrumpynerd OMG YOUUUUUU. I REALLY LIKE YOUR ARTTT.

•I LIKE IT

•very cartoonish

• noticable art style

•thick lineart

I LOVE seeing posts when they come out!!! They're really really cool and make me feel so happy when I see them! Keep going because you're so cool!

@spookeri haiiii

You're here tooo

i like ur art :)))))) a LOT . Same as the last guy, I get very excited when you post. Your DTIYS were fun, and yeye... Yeah

•Very flat colors

•flat lines

•cool looking skulls

•you have an "air-brush" shading style (i guess you could call it), which isn't a bad thing! Do what you want to do! But maybe try out cell-shading? Idk you don't have to, but idk i feel like cell-shading fits your art style

Also if you look in the bottom you can see a scratched out drawing, that was my first attempt haha

You can see it in the drawing below

@wyllaztopia !! I like your art :)) you have a very noticeable style and when you post I get excited as well!

•clean lines

•you make skulls longer than how other people make their skulls in this last

•I liked replicating it

Idk what else to say ... Its just all really cool!!

And last but not the worst

My art style!

My art style is

•cool

•easy to draw

•and funny lookin'

What did i learn from this whole thing i did? That everyone has a unique style, that even if they try to change it it still stays theirs and it's still unique

I also found out that everyone, small artists and big artists, has flaws! It's comforting to know that everyone has flaws so I know I'm just learning and getting better everyday

Another thing I got from this is that everyone's styles are always changing and warping. But thats fine! Because everyone's moving and changing, and the worlds always moving and changing!

So, don't be so hard on yourself if you're struggling to draw or find an art style, how you draw is unique to you and you'll like it one day

Just keep drawing everyday and you'll get there.

I suggest doing this challenge, on paper or digital, wether you color it or not, or post ot or not!

It's great to try out.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

One Step, Not Much but It Said Enough

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Farm/Prison

Warnings: None

Summary: Someone had to make a move. In the end, it was neither of you.

A/N: First November request. It can be found here.

*gif is not mine

You pushed your glasses up on your nose for the umpteenth time in less than half an hour, cursing yourself for never checking with your optometrist about contact lenses before the world went to shit. Not like you would have known to buy a lifetime supply because the dead were going to rise up and eat the living. Oh well. 

You didn’t dislike your spectacles. You actually enjoyed having them. You used to pick out the snazziest frames you could find that meshed well with your personality. Still, having glasses in the apocalypse wasn’t easy, by a long shot. 

Especially now, when you were trying to set up the perimeter line and it was a million degrees outside, the sweat accumulating on your skin making your frames slide down. It was actually rather infuriating. 

You were tying off a line when a shadow loomed over the string in your hands. “Here.” Before you could look up, a sunhat was placed on your head. You reached up to adjust it before leaning back to meet Daryl’s eyes. “S’one’a Carol’s.” He motioned toward the hat as he crouched on the other side of your line. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled, hoping he’d credit the sun for the rosy coloring of your cheeks. You suddenly felt unsure of your work and hesitated to continue while he watched. 

“G’on.” He encouraged, chewing on a blade of grass while those blue eyes flitted between you and the string of cans. You took a deep breath and carried on, soon becoming lost in your work as you moved from sector to sector. The hat did help, but eventually, you found the frames teetering on the end of your nose once again. 

“Damn glasses!” You didn’t even bother to adjust them, simply sitting back on your heels with a pout. Daryl had followed you, having already done his hunting for the day. You weren’t really sure why he was hanging around. His presence never bothered you but did make you increasingly nervous. The man was attractive and, though he’d fight hard to never admit it, he had a huge heart. 

“What ‘bout ‘em?” He looked up from cleaning his bolts, tilting his head when he noticed your adorable pout. He laughed in the form of an exhale through his nose and leaned forward, using his middle finger to push your glasses back to their rightful place. “They suit ya.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, blinking at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t until his brows drew inward and he began to smirk that you realized you had been staring at him for far longer than necessary. There was a noise akin to a squeak when you quickly went back to work and tied off the last of the perimeter. “Done!”

“‘Bout time.” The archer drawled, already standing next to you. “Ya hungry?” He was holding out a hand to help you to your feet but you just couldn’t seem to make your body function. “S’a hand. How it works is ya put yours in mine an’ I pull ya up.” You suddenly deadpanned at his his version of a grin. “C’mon, now. Carl gets there first an’ there’ll be none left for us.”

You took his hand and let him pull you to your feet. “Thanks.” He hummed in reply, falling in step beside you. You walked quietly back to the fire and your friends, about to branch away from him when you felt his hand on your arm. 

“Hey, um—” You looked up just in time to see him look back from gazing at something behind you but he kept speaking before you could turn to investigate. “Y’wanna go with me tomorrow? Huntin’, I mean.”

You knew how your face lit up, there was absolutely zero hiding it. You had always wanted to go with him. Honestly, you wanted to go anywhere with him. You felt like a middle schooler with a crush. Embarrassing. Regardless, the fact the he had invited you after spending all afternoon watching you string up cans between trees made your heart beat just a little faster. 

“Hell yeah, I’d love to! I mean, as long as I won’t be in your way.”

“Ya won’t be. M’gonna teach ya.”

Your jaw gaped. “Really? You mean it?”

Poor Daryl just looked confused. “Wouldn’a said it if I didn’t.” 

You just managed to stop yourself from diving in for a hug. “I’m looking forward to it.” You smiled, tilting your head when you noticed the slight flush on his cheeks. He scratched at the back of his neck and nodded. 

“Good. We’ll be leavin’ ‘fore first light so get some sleep.”

You nodded and watched him walk away, apparently forgetting that he didn’t eat. You chuckled to yourself, pushing your glasses up yet again but not at all bothered by it this time. When you turned, you barely caught the knowing smile that Carol wore before it faded and she went back to eating. You removed the hat Daryl had brought you, looking at it with narrowed eyes, then to where Daryl had disappeared, then to Carol, then back to the hat. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense. 

Well played, Carol. Well played. 

[whimsyfinny]

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, alcohol, lots of feelings, small angst, bullying, reader being a victim

Chapter Word Count: 6639

MDNI 18+

A/N: sorry this took so long! Life has been a lot aha. I kinda feel like I’ve rambled on with this one, so I’m sorry about that… I also feel like this was kinda a filler chapter? Idk, I’m sorry if this one isn’t as exciting… Either way, I hope you like it! As always, it's only proofread by moi, so let me know of any errors. Also feedback is greatly appreciated!

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out.

Photos from Pinterest

New Readers Start Here: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Sunday mornings were the only time we could get away with being lazy. I would crawl out of bed at around eight o’clock - compared to my normal six o’clock - and shuffle downstairs in my pyjamas in search of coffee whilst Levi was either still sleeping or playing Guitar Hero on the PS2, quietly by himself. On this particular Sunday morning, however, I did indeed venture downstairs at just gone eight, and instead of finding one young boy playing video games by himself, I was greeted with the sight of him battling it out with his uncle whilst his dad sat and watched, critiquing his techniques. I padded in quietly, pulling my long soft cardigan around me further as I tried my best to watch on unseen, enjoying this moment just as much as they were and unwilling to pop their happy bubble. I watched for a few minutes, seeing how Sam didn't go easy on Levi just because he was a kid, and how Dean couldn't seem to take his eyes off his son who was entirely immersed in the game, a soft smile taking up permanent residence on his lips. Dean turned his head slightly and caught sight of me in the archway, that soft smile evolving into a pulse quickening grin. He stood quickly, striding over to me with those plaid pyjama pants distractingly low on his hips.

“G’mornin’ sweetheart, you sleep ok?” He was now a few inches away and smelt like coffee and warm linen - it was the sort of scent that wrapped around me and drew me in with an almost dangerous nature.

“Like the dead,” I grinned, looking up at him, “though I'm not surprised after all those beers and our 1AM bedtime. You're a bad influence Winchester,” I poked his chest and had to fight back a groan when I felt how frustratingly firm his muscles were beneath his grey henley. Instead of vocalising my ‘annoyance’, I bit my lip, which in its own way I suppose was worse. Worse, because now those mossy green eyes were looking at my mouth, their gaze lingering before looking back up to my eyes.

“What can I say except I had a good time? It was nice catching up like that. It was like…”

“Like we’d gone back to a simpler time?”

“Like we'd never been apart.” 

Those words held a sudden weight to them that thumped deep in my chest.

“Yeah,” I said quietly, my eyes not leaving him, “I know what you mean”.

We both seemed caught up for a moment, silent and unmoving - just watching each other. He seemed totally steady, save for the deep inhale he took when I held his gaze just a little too long. He cleared his throat, breaking the trance that seemed too quick to have ever even existed in the first place.

“Coffee?” He asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

“Coffee sounds great,” I smiled, glancing over to Sam and Levi who'd still failed to notice my arrival.

Dean and I paced leisurely to the kitchen where I was pleasantly surprised to see a pot of coffee already brewed, just waiting to be poured. Dean reached into the overhead cupboard, already learning where things were and selected two mugs. Pouring the hot liquid into both of them before handing me one, we both leant against the counter as I relished the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into my fingertips.

“You know,” I took a sip, humming in satisfaction, “I could get used to this,” my words felt dangerous the moment they slipped from my lips, a part of me kicking myself for vocalising such internal thoughts. Deans eyes widened almost fast enough for me to miss before his gaze returned to normal, his lips parting slightly as his mug paused on the elevation to his mouth. But once that half a second was over, it was like the fleeting surprise never happened. He simply hummed in agreement, his eyes soft and warm.

“Did you sleep ok?” I said quickly, taking the attention away from my earlier slip of words. He grinned with a nod.

“You have no idea how nice it is to sleep somewhere that's not musty and dusty and a possible crime scene from back in the eighties.” I grinned much like he did, my mind suddenly filling with images of brown and orange decor, unwashed bedsheets and spiders who might as well pay rent because they’ve been there so long.

“Well I can assure you that you're safe from all of that here - though no promises on the eighties crime scene, I have no idea who lived in this house back then.”

Deans grin turned more self assured as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“You don't think the equipment I brought would've made a noise if there was something here that went bump in the night?”

“Equipment?” I almost snorted, “you mean the EMF thing that you made on ‘pimp my Walkman’?”

Dean practically clutched his pearls.

“How dare you - that thing is a work of art. Blood, sweat and tears went into that masterpiece,” by the end of his sentence he was grinning again, almost like he knew he was talking out of his ass.

“Uh huh. Sure thing baby.”

Shit.

Deans lips twitch upwards as the intensity of his gaze sparks up something hot before quickly dying out, his posture straightening as he lifts his mug to his mouth again. I kick myself a second time for letting the term of endearment roll off my tongue. I’d never had this issue before - accidentally calling people nicknames or anything of the sort. I’d dated guys who had perfectly reasonable names that I always remembered to call them. Yet Dean… he stood here, in my kitchen after almost a decade and somehow still managed to turn my brain to butter. It was hard to describe, as surely I couldn’t still feel that way for someone who I’d been parted from for so long with not a whisper of their name from anyone's lips but my own. I no longer knew him. Nine years of time and life and experiences will have sculpted Dean and everything that I knew him to be into a totally different person…wouldn’t it? Hell, maybe he’s even got a girlfriend somewhere out there who's waiting for him to return to her, but he’s just been too nice to mention it. That, or I’ve been too selfishly wrapped up in things that used to be us to even think of asking. Perhaps the mushy consistency of my brain was simply another symptom of some so-called ‘muscle memory’, as my current behaviour was always how I’d been around him. Flirty. Playful. Infatuated. Perhaps I simply didn’t know how else to act; how to be normal in his presence because I knew he’s seen every inch of me, both physically and philosophically. He’d seen my ugly days yet he’d still kissed away the turmoil without so much as a second thought. Maybe, just maybe, I needed to reel myself back in - take myself back to before we were star crossed lovers. Before the memories were made and our hearts beat to the same tune. Back when we were just two people who would laugh and joke and stay up late. Perhaps that would make this all easier.

“There’s that name again,” Deans low drawl snapped me from my internal debate, an unreadable expression dawning on his features.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think my mouth and brain are working together anymore,” I sighed, fighting to keep some sliver of amusement in my voice. 

“Oh yeah?” a smirk appeared on Deans face, that playful glint returning to his eye as he chewed his bottom lip as though having an internal debate of his own. Who knows what side won, but I’m sure some form of sleep depravity was involved with his next few words: “I remember a time when your mouth didn’t need your brain and it worked just fine on its own.” If his aim here was to make me flustered, he’d sure as hell succeeded as heat bloomed across my cheeks and my mouthful of coffee was spat back into my cup with a splutter.

“Dean!”

He released an almost wicked laugh, clearly pleased with himself for my reaction. If he was going to be making comments like that on a regular basis, it was going to prove extremely difficult for ‘operation: we’re just friends’ to be in full effect. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’ll stop,” his words were softer yet the edge of amusement was still present.

I scowled at him with as much venom as a fucking wetwipe, my own amused grin straining at my lips.

“You better,” I jabbed a finger into his chest before placing my half empty coffee mug on the counter, turning away from him to rummage through the kitchen cupboards. I turned back around a moment later and thrust four bowls in his hands along with four spoons and two large cereal boxes.

“Put these on the table before you say anything else that might cause me to choke on my coffee.”

I watched a choking innuendo pass right before his eyes yet he bit his tongue and pursed his lips, taking a moment before his eyebrows rose slightly.

“Were you always this bossy?”

“I’m not bossy, I just have a child who needs to be fed. Now, table,” I pointed to the items in his arms before pointing to their designated destination.

“You could at least say ‘please’,” his tone was growing taunting and it drew a sigh from my chest.

“Fine. Can you put those things on the table, please.”

“Hmm… I don’t feel like you meant that, it felt a little… I don't know… hostile?” The grin was now in full effect.

“DEAN.”

“Ok! I’m going!” he turned and did as I asked, finally setting the table for all four of us. 

Breakfast passed by with so much ease it was as though we’d done it every day of our lives. Sam and Levi continued to talk about Guitar Hero whilst Dean listened, chipping in the classic rock trivia where he could. The whole time, I just sat, listened and watched, absorbing everything about this moment in time and doing whatever I could to make this a core memory. I breathed in, telling myself to remember the smell of sugar and coffee in the air, along with the new and unfamiliar masculine undertone of cologne and old leather. I looked around, watching how the golden morning light made their hair and skin glow in shades of amber and white, the small dust particles in the air illuminated like fireflies. The sound of their animated chatter was soft, creating a serene ambiance that was as pleasant on the ears as notes from a music box. Everything about this moment was all I’d dreamt of; from the fully occupied breakfast table to the relaxed atmosphere, and the cherry on the cake was knowing that these men were family. Levis family. He had a dad and an uncle who wanted to cherish him and spend time with him, to make him feel so important and loved that it made up for nearly nine years of absence. I know, deep, deep down that part of this was from them feeling guilty - Dean more so than Sam - yet that was only a small part. Their love and affection for him stemmed from something real and it was so easy to see, so fucking clear on their faces, that it made me want to cry. And that feeling was so fucking strong that I had to excuse myself from the table and freshen up in the bathroom, barely able to utter a word to them as I stepped away.

After taking five and splashing some water on my face I emerged from the bathroom and headed back downstairs. Sam and Levi were back in front of the playstation, this time playing Need for Speed, and Dean remained at the table, another coffee between his palms as he leant forwards, staring into the liquid. He must’ve heard me coming as he looked up with a slightly concerned expression. 

“You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah,” my voice didn’t come out as level as I’d hoped, so I diverted the conversation. “I thought that’d be you over there playing Need for Speed. How come you’re over here glaring at your coffee?”

“Ahh, we’ve been up for a while and I spent about an hour on Guitar Hero with Levi before you came down. Plus…” the small smile on his lips that appeared when he looked over at his son was now directed towards me, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uh oh, I hate it when sentences start like that.”

“No, it’s nothing bad. I just…uhhh… well, last night when we were talking, you said something that I can’t stop thinking about,” despite his calm expression, his knuckles were starting to turn white around his cup.

“I said a lot of things last night, Dean, you’re going to ha-”

“Let me take you out.”

“What?” 

“Let me take you out,” he repeated, but this time softer and slower, “you said last night that you never get to go out for drinks anymore and that you’ve had some pretty shit dates,” we both grimaced slightly at the thought of that. “ Well… I’m here. Let me take you out. Levi is at a sleepover tonight so you have nothing to worry about where he’s concerned,” he took a deep breath and reached across the table to place his hand, warm and large, over mine. “Let me do something nice for you, like you deserve.” There was a pause as silence settled between us for a moment. He wanted to take me out. Like, a date, or just as old friends, or as co-parents…? I had no idea what his angle was on this. Did he want to have sex? Was that it? Was he just trying to get his dick wet? Old Dean would occasionally pull those tricks with me, though they were usually few and far between, but would the new Dean do that? Was it even a low bar thing to do? Maybe it’s a pity date, and he’s only taking me out because I’ve been so incapable of being able to replace him with someone who is better - who probably doesn’t even exist - that he’s now just feeling sorry for me. Why, oh why the ever living fuck am I even over analysing this? Dean wanted to take me for drinks so why should I care what his motive is. This is a fucking opportunity for me to relax and let loose a little. To not be mom for a few hours. To be me. And why should I care if he wants to fuck me? I should be flattered, right? That he possibly still finds me attractive? And I can’t deny that it’s been a while since I’ve had half decent sex - or any sex at all for this matter. 

“Yes,” I blurted, perhaps a little aggressively. 

“Yes?” he smiles again, that easy, contagious smile, “you’ll let me take you on a date?”

“So it is a date?” I couldn’t help but mirror his grin, adding my own amused tone.

“Wasn’t that obvious?”

“Well, no, you said you’d ‘take me out’. That could mean anything. You could’ve meant with a fucking gun.”

Dean erupted into laughter, shaking his head. That laugh. I remember likening it to a favourite song that was so easy to put on repeat. It was addictive.

“Ok, so I’m not taking you out with a gun. I’m taking you out on a date. Have I dumbed it down enough for ya’ know?”

“If you were any clearer you’d be transparent,” I said, my tone bordering on mocking. 

“Great, well, me and Sammy have a few loose ends to tie up from this case we’re on, so we need to head out soon. We’ll be back by the evening though, soooo…. Be ready for six?”

I nodded eagerly, watching as he stood from the table. The sight of him in the henley - plaid bottoms combo makes me want to have a cozy day indoors, watching nothing but scary movies and scarfing down popcorn and cookie dough. The sigh I heave from my lungs was totally involuntary. 

“Yeah,” I smile, “six is perfect.”

Kat and Toby arrived at the house around noon. Whilst the boys race upstairs to get on with God-knows-what, Kat strides in with a knowing smirk when she clocks the duffle bags that are clearly not mine beside the couch, along with the lingering aroma that's distinctly masculine intertwining with the pumpkin spice from my scented candles. As I studied her face for all but a few seconds, I braced myself for the flurry of questions that I knew were buzzing around her mind.

“Sooooo…” her tone was already amused as she flopped down onto the couch. “Anything you need to tell me?”

“What? Who do you think I am?” I scoff at her words, yet my pulse quickens at the thought of telling her about my plans for tonight. 

“I think you're a woman still in love with her childhood sweetheart and that he's already sweeping you off your feet.”

“I am not still in love with him. I can't possibly be in love with someone I've not seen for almost a decade.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Bitch, don't ‘mmm hmm’ me. I'm not in love with Dean.”

“Would you fuck him?”

“God yes.”

“So you're keeping him around for the possibility of good dick?”

I threw myself down beside her on the couch, pulling a throw cushion into my lap.

“No, that is so not true. I can't believe you'd think me so shallow,” I held my hand to my chest in mock devastation. She hummed again.

“Didn't you do that to what's-his-face?”

“Who?”

“The guy you dated about a year ago, drove around in that Mustang?”

“Oh shit yeah! I think his name was Chad? Or maybe Brad…? Ok yeah, I did kinda keep him around for his dick… and his car. That car was awesome.”

“You shallow, shallow bitch.”

I threw the cushion which hit her square in the face, likely leaving a print of her lipstick behind on the soft fabric.

“But that was just some dude that was only with me so he could fucking tick ‘banged a milf’ off his bucket list. This is Dean I'm talking about. He's… well… he's Dean. And he's not here for me. He's here for Levi. Don't blame a man for wanting to stick around when he's just found out he's got a kid,” I gave her a look that said ‘I fucking love you but please can we drop this now’, and she did, one final hum moving past her lips. We stared at each other for a moment, her expression one of a studious nature and mine one of feigned innocence. This woman could read me like a book, and I both simultaneously loved and hated it. I loved it, because when something went wrong, and quite often in my life things did, she just knew. She knew to be at mine that same evening with a bottle of red and a bucket of popcorn, pyjamas on and the boys asleep upstairs. This woman had slept in my bed more times than any man as we continued to have sleepovers like teenagers well into our twenties. Alcoholic sleepovers. Yet I hated how she read me like a book, because like right now, if I was in denial about anything or for some absurd reason trying to keep a secret, she would just know. She was like a fucking mind reader. I chuckled inwardly at the thought of that being true. Maybe Dean should scan her with his Walkman and freak her out. Maybe then she'd get off my case about me still being in love with him. I'm not in love with him. 

“You still aren't telling me something,” her voice was even, the amusement fading slightly as she stared at me, waiting for me to stop beating around the bush. Under the heat of her stare I caved, sighing and slumping even further into the soft cushions behind me.

“He's taking me out…on a date.”

“I FUCKING knew it!”

“What?! How would you know that?!” I almost jumped as she flew forward in her seat, the gleam back in her eyes as she grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

“I didn't know that exactly, but bitch I knew you were hiding something juicy!”

“It's not juicy! It's casual - just drinks. I’m gonna wear jeans.”

“Oh yeah, because flaunting the curvature of ones ass makes it casual…”

“Aren’t you here to collect my kid or something?” I launch into my last resort to end this hellish interrogation - which involved kicking her out.

“Babes you can kick me out of your house but you can’t ignore this,” she stood slowly, her ‘all-knowing’ expression un-faltering. 

“Kat, it’s only day two of him being here! You are getting way ahead of yourself,” I stood with her, shaking my head. 

“Two days plus the whole freakin’ year you were dating. That man is not a stranger to you. Hell, you’ve probably had that coc-”

“THANK YOU, Kat! I love you, you are the yin to my fucking yang but please for the love of CHRIST - shut up!”

Her expression finally cracked and she practically cackled at my discomfort, making her way to the stairs to get the boys.

“Bitch, if I don’t get details about tonight then -”

“Ok I’ll tell you! But seriously, don’t read into it too much, it’s just drinks.”

She strutted to the bottom of the stairs before ascending, calling over her shoulder; “Sure, whatever you say honey!”

It took longer than I'd have hoped, but Kat eventually left with the boys for the remainder of the day. As soon as they'd left the building, it was like I could breathe again - like the house could breathe again. It was a rare occasion for me to have the place to myself for five minutes, let alone a whole twenty four hours. It was like I could finally hear my own thoughts again after the busy breakfast and Kat's dire interrogation. The silence was bliss. It was pure bliss as I made myself a coffee and settled comfortably on the couch, taking a moment to myself. It was blissful right up until my own thoughts started banging at the door in the back of my mind. Thoughts about Dean, and his motives and my motives. Suddenly my relaxing afternoon to myself was quickly becoming a caged-in trap for my internal thoughts to run wild, the drums of possibilities sounding in the far reaches of my brain, beating faster and faster the closer they drew. Almost as quickly as I'd sat down, I jumped up and headed to the store cupboard under the stairs. One thing that could distract me was cleaning, so that's exactly what I was going to do. 

I blitzed the house from top to bottom, hoovering, mopping, cleaning mirrors and windows, dusting and evening folding the pile of laundry that was starting to become part of the furniture. Much to my dismay, that only took up two hours of my time, so I was left with the only other task that I hate more than folding hundreds of small human sized pieces of fabric. Grocery shopping. 

After a manic stock take of the fridge, cupboards and pantry, I made a list, grabbed my bag, threw on my jacket and headed out.

I'd been shopping around the small town convenience store for around twenty minutes, browsing the aisles and throwing everything - plus some extras - from my list into the aggravatingly wonky trolley. I hated grocery shopping with a passion - the constant beeping from the checkouts, the passive aggressive road rage between trolley users, and the dozens of obscenely slow browsers frustrated me beyond belief. I was normally able to push it to a big haul every two weeks, but with the prospect of Sam and Dean staying a while, it was a safe bet to fill the house to the brim with snacks and meals alike. With the lifestyle that those two lived, I can't imagine that they're overly fussy eaters, and I have a hunch that Dean still loves turkey dinosaurs.

The cereal aisle wasn't supposed to be an eventful place - deciding between Cookie Crisp and Cinnamon Squares should be the highlight of this venture. However as my luck would have it, it became eventful.

“Oh hi! (Y/n)!”

I looked up from my crumpled list and was greeted with three faces that I recognised but not to the point of acquaintanceship.

“Uhh, hi? Can I help you?” 

“I just wanted to say that it's so great to finally see that Levi's father is around. It's just so important, isn't it? For a boy to have that male role model,” the first woman spoke; her peroxide blonde hair looked so overbleached it may as well have been straw on her head, and it almost distracted me from her painfully patronising voice.

“Excuse me? Do I know you?” My voice started to take on a defensive edge as my palms immediately grew sweaty, this situation already making me uncomfortable. 

She laughed, looking over at her friend's like I'd asked some stupid fucking question. 

“Our son's go to the same school - you should really know this.”

“Well, if our sons aren't friends, then why would I need to?” 

She took a deep breath. 

“I just think it's funny how someone like you managed to get someone like… what's his name… Dean? Isn't he a little out of your league?”

My pulse thrummed as my frustration grew with the sudden, unsolicited and blatant attack. How the fuck did they know Deans name? Someone must've overheard us at Jolenes'... or maybe at the track? And what the fuck did she mean by ‘out of my league’? If she was insinuating what I thought she was, then she's going to need to head over to the fucking freezer aisle real freaking soon.

“Excuse me?” 

She smirked, knowing she was sinking her plastic fucking talons into my skin already.

“Oh I think you heard me. Does Dean know? That you trapped him? When you got pregnant on purpose at nineteen?”

My blood began to boil as I white knuckled the handle of the trolley to stop myself from punching her square between the eyes.

“Fuck you; I didn't ‘trap him’. Is that really what you cliquey bitches think?” I was equal parts furious and heartbroken. Furious, because how fucking dare they assume that just because Dean is a God tier DILf that I fooled him into getting me pregnant all those years ago. And heartbroken because, well, is that really what the people in this town thought of me? If these women thought that, then who's to say half the town don't think the same? Or maybe more - maybe it's the whole freaking town with Kat being the only exception, and I've been living so cocooned in my own bubble that it never even occurred to me. But Dean has barely even been here a day, so I can’t exactly blame myself for being so wrapped up in my own life with everything going on. How can people form such strong opinions so quickly when they don’t even know the whole story? My story with Dean. Not theirs. They’ve somehow managed to put two and two together to come up with negative fucking ten, and I’ll be damned if I let them drag our names through the mud.

“Oh honey, we know that you tricked him. A man like that, with that face and physique would never have chosen you willingly, right? I mean, you really don’t look his type.”

“Oh, and you do? Because you know Dean so well?”

“That’s enough!” We were caught off guard by the oldest of the three, a woman perhaps in her fifties, snapping in a clipped tone. “Michelle, that’s quite enough, you’re taking this too far now. And you,” she turned to me with a stern gaze, “that man looks like trouble. We don’t like those sorts around here; you tell him to behave himself.” My anger and frustration was quickly melting into straight up irritation.

“Look, lady-”

“Karen.”

“Sure, ok… look, Deans a grown ass man, he can do whatever the fuck he likes - he’s here on a job. I’m not telling him to do shit.”

“Language! Such a foul mouth-”

“Is he single?” our heads quickly snapped to the third woman of the group - younger than the other two but still a little older than myself. She was a near double of the blonde from the hair to the clothes to the claws, yet she seemed to lack the spite.

“What?” yet another question that caught me off guard. What the fuck is wrong with these women?

“Dean, is he single? I mean, I’ve not seen him, but from how you describe him, he seems hot,” she twirled a lock of hair around her finger like a school girl despite likely being in her thirties.

“Hannah you’re married,” Karen chimed in with obvious disgust. 

That was it, the last fucking straw. I’d had enough of the ambush from three women that I barely even knew. I adjusted my grip on the trolley and quickly planned my escape route, spotting an opening in the crowd to the side. I gritted my teeth and steeled my gaze, the bitter taste of disgust, fury, and disappointment coating my tongue as I all but spat my words.

“This has been a riveting conversation, truely, but I’m leaving. Now,” and with that I hastily left them behind, finishing my shopping with the dark cloud of judgement looming over me. 

The urge to cry hot, angry tears in the car on the ride home was a battle I didn't want to fight. The intensity of the emotions brewing in the pit of my stomach and bubbling into my chest was so strong, so consuming that I didn't even realise I was pulling into my own driveway, having completed the short journey on what I like to call ‘blackout autopilot’. One tear was shed over the shitshow, and in my opinion, that was one tear too many. I was annoyed at myself with having let it get to me so much, knowing I'd grown thicker skin than this. It wasn't the first time I'd been confronted, like a fucking black sheep in a blindingly white flock, yet for some reason, this got to me. At this point, I was drained from even thinking about it, so I grabbed the groceries, making several trips to get them all in the house, put away the fridge and freezer items and left the rest on the counter to deal with later. Right now, I needed a large glass of wine and something to distract myself with. So I decided on the only thing I had going for me at this point in time.

Time to pick an outfit for tonight.

My bedroom was a modest size and the king-size bed practically consumed the room. I had a large, sliding mirrored-door wardrobe that was built into the structure of the room which I flung open and started to rummage through as soon as I made it upstairs.

I'd told myself - and Kat - that it was casual. Dean had implied it, so this shouldn't be too hard to find something nice to wear.

Wrong.

I must've spent the best part of an hour trying on dozens of different tops with my only pair of ‘nice’ jeans - those ones that hugged my ass and thighs just right. I tried long sleeves, short sleeves, chiffon, cotton, satin, opaque, obscenely translucent, bright, monochrome and in all honesty, I felt inadequate in every single one. I'd never really been one to feel overly self conscious of how I looked, but for some absurd reason, this date with Dean was making me flustered. It had me worried that he wouldn’t like how I looked, especially since I’d had Levi and my body had changed in a way that he didn’t know just yet. 

Just yet. 

I cursed myself slightly, shaking that idea from my head. Yes, I’ve had plenty of time to try and get myself back to normal, but some things just weren't the same anymore, and probably never would be. I hated the fact that I was even stressed about this. The safest option was to just go for something comfortable, so I donned a stretchy, low-cut and long sleeved black top and slid on a pair of black closed-toe heels before sitting down at my dresser. 

I’d just opened my makeup bag when I heard the door downstairs open and close, quickly followed by the oddly comforting sounds of Sam and Deans voices floating through the house and up the stairs. I turned to myself in the mirror, sighing at the tired looking woman staring back at me. Get your shit together, (Y/n), Dean is taking you on a date. I grasped my over-sharpened eyeliner pencil that was likely no longer than an inch in length and got to work. I suddenly flinched and nearly poked myself in the eye when Dean appeared in my bedroom doorway.

“Jesus, Dean! You scared the crap out of me - I didn’t even hear you come up the stairs.”

He grinned slightly as he leant against the wooden frame, large arms crossing over his chest. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to…” his voice trailed off and I could feel his eyes on me, as though he was searching for something. A few moments went by in silence, and right as I was about to turn to him, he spoke.

“Hey, are you ok?” His voice was dangerously soft, and concerned in a way that could easily have me weeping in his arms. Because of the shitty afternoon I’d had, I feel like it wouldn’t take much kindness from him to have me crumble - no matter how much I’d hate myself for it afterwards. Instead, I pushed everything down as best as I could and turned to him with a weak smile.

“Yeah, I’m ok. I’ve had a bit of a weird, shitty afternoon but I won’t ruin your evening with it.” At my words he pulled a face, his own words quickly following.

“It’s your evening. And if there’s something eating at you, you know you can talk to me. Just like you used to,” his smile was back, warm and comforting and like a balm over a burn. I looked back at myself in the mirror for a moment, debating if it was even worth talking about. If it was anyone but Dean, I wouldn’t hesitate to keep this to myself. But it was Dean, and I hated to say it, but he was always good at dealing with me when I was like this in the past. I turned to him and let his calming presence seep into my bones, desperately trying to take it on myself.

“Ok,” I said quietly, “I’ll tell you at the bar. But I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, and I don’t want to talk about it all evening,” He nodded.

“Whatever you need sweetheart,” he stood up straight and said something about getting ready himself before he left the room, leaving me to finish up before finally heading downstairs. 

It was roughly another fifteen minutes before I made my way down; Dean already waiting for me in the archway to the kitchen. He looked up as he heard me coming, eyes brightening when he grinned at me.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” his voice was smooth and deep, a flirtatious undertone rumbling in his chest. 

“Not so bad yourself Winchester,” I walked up to stand in front of him, almost toe-to-toe. I looked him over, taking in the black shirt he wore, untucked and paired his jeans. The boots and brown leather jacket remained the same, yet I could see the damp patches on both from where he’d scrubbed either mud or blood from the fabric - perhaps both. It wouldn’t be the first time. I took a deep breath, my pulse quickening as his scent filled my senses. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, removing a hand from his pocket and let it hang awkwardly at his side. I shook my head. 

“Not yet, I sometimes forget to eat when Levi isn’t around.” Dean shot me a look that could have been both concerned or protective.

“Ok, well I’m taking you for dinner too then.”

“What? No Dean, you really don’t have t-”

“Don’t argue with me sweetheart, I'm fucking feeding you,” his tone was final, leaving no room for negotiation so I sighed in defeat. 

“Fine, but we’re not going anywhere expensive.”

His smirk widened across his face as he continued to look down at me, finally placing that awkwardly hanging hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the door. He shouted a ‘goodbye’ to Sam over his shoulder and, without really waiting for a reply, he ushered me out of the house and towards the car, locking up behind us. I walked up to the black vehicle, the excitement starting to bubble at the thought of going for a ride in her again after all this time. As Dean walked up to me, he opened the passenger side door, letting me hop in first. I took my seat, quickly dumping my bag and jacket in the footwell so I could softly run my fingertips over the perfectly maintained leather seats, noticing how not a thing had changed - not even the box of cassettes on the back seat. As Dean slid into the drivers seat, his expression something akin to pride, he couldn’t help but comment on my reaction to being back in the impala.

“I bet you missed Baby more than you missed me,” he joked, turning the key and letting the engine roar into life. I bit my lip, leaning back in my seat.

“I missed you both equally,” the humorous tone came easily, my earlier worries already started to feel insignificant as they slipped away with every tick of the engine.

“Equally?” he echoed, feigning hurt, “you don’t even prefer me just a little bit more?”

I pretended to ponder intently, holding a finger to my lips as I crossed my arms over my chest. An obnoxious string of ‘hmmms’ slipped through my lips before I saw him roll his eyes, still grinning.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Especially since you're taking me on a date,” my own words made my heart flutter and luckily he'd moved his gaze from me to the road as he pulled out of my drive. My face felt warm and I cursed at myself for being so easily affected by him already, entranced by the way those long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and the muscles in his jaw flexed under the glow of the passing street lamps. I couldn't deny that he was still painfully attractive, even after all this time. If I was being honest with myself, he was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate on much else right now. If drinks were soon to be involved, there was a very high chance of me making a total ass of myself in front of him.

Tonight was likely going to be one to remember.

Taglist: @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @megara0224 @libby99hb @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung @king-of-milf-lovers @xshortputax @jerksbitch @multifandoms-saidwhat @deans-baby-momma @writersxxx @rox2008 @jeysbae @ladykitana90 @proudbisexual @ladysparkles78 @elenasalvatore1 @bxtchboy69 @saemiau @lilithlunastark @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @riah1606 @impala67rollingthroughtown @berryblues46 @aylacavebear @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @whichwitchwanda @pillowjj @iloveyou2mia @kamisobsessed @bonbonnie88

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Fine Addition

ModernAU! Dr. Frankenstein!Steven Grant x fem!reader

A/n: Please don't ask me what I thought about turning sweet Steven into Dr. Frankenstein.

Cw/triggers: Smut, slight bondage at first because reader is strapped on a table, p in v, fingering, nsfw, Steven's a bit horny, soft dom Steven energy, Stockholm syndrome(?).

You didn't even knew how you've got here, strapped on a cold autopsy table in nothing but your underwear. To your right were tools straight out of your nightmares.

Screaming wasn't an option either with you mouth being taped shut. Your eyes had to adjust to the darkness of the place, the only light coming from the monitors and buttons.

Just a moment later, the heavy door creaked open, the light shining just past you as the person stepped in and turned the lights on. The bright light caused you to squint your eyes in order to adjust.

You looked to the side, seeing a guy in a what looked like a doctors coat, messy curls, and glasses on his nose. In his hands he had a thermos and a book. He didn't seem to notice you being awake, he just walked past you, moving to sit down at a desk to mind his own business. You could see him just reading the book, taking occasional sips from his thermos.

You began to struggle against the restraints to get his attention.

It worked, he turned to look at you. "Oh y're awake." he said nonchalantly, getting up to walk over to you. "Y'see, after my last creation- err, or let's say 'monster' like those twits call it has been killed... I of course needed a new one."

You noticed a name tag on his coat. Steven.

"And this is," he reached into his pocket, pulling out a marker "where I thought you'd come into play." with a firm but still soft grip he held your wrist in place and drew a line down your arm to your wrist with the marker.

Steven swiftly removed the tape from your lips before moving on to hold your leg in place, marking it up aswell. "It's a bloody shame it has to be you though," he sighed softly, his eyes wandered over your body appreciatively "you're a true gem."

He took off his glasses, setting them down on a nearby table.

You began struggling against the restraints holding you down. "Ah ah, stop struggling, love." Steven tutted, giving you a small smile at seeing you trying. "S'not gonna get you out of here, y'know." Steven shrugged, pressing a button on a console.

Steven turned back to you, leaning against the table, his eyes raked over your body once more. "You stay put for a while, yeah? I'll be back." he smiled softly before leaving the place. Steven took a breath, leaning against a wall.

"She's too beautiful." he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Steven chewed on his lip, debating whether he should just let you go and risking the possibility of getting caught or not.

"I let her go. Yeah, I let her go." he nodded to himself, making his way to the door. The heavy door creaked again as he opened it, his eyes landing on you once more.

"Lucky you. I will let you go." he sauntered over to you.

"You let me go?" you asked skeptically, not sure if you believe him or not.

He nodded, moving to stand beside your leg. "Yeah." placing his hand on your ankle, ready to remove the restraint. Steven couldn't help but let his gaze rake over your body once more, taking in your beauty.

Steven's hand slowly drove its way upwards your leg, aiming for your core. "But promise me you'll behave, yeah?" he demanded softly.

"Yes." Your voice trembled, but the way his warm hand travelled up your thigh made your pussy leak onto the table, his hand settled on your core rubbing your clit in slow circles.

"Y' love that, yeah?" He teased, supporting himself with his hand at the edge of the table near your shoulder to lean down. "You have such a lovely body."

Steven slid two fingers inside, feeling your pussy gripping them. "You're already so wet f' me." he thrust his fingers in and out of you, feeling them get soaked up in your wetness. The occasional moans and whimpers coming out of you were like music to his ears, his fingers curled inside of you, hitting your spot making you flutter around his fingers.

"Your tight cunt's 'bout to get it." Steven said, he withdraw his fingers, his hand went down to undo his pants, rubbing his hardening cock through the material. He released the restraints, making you sit on the table. Steven spread your thighs wide, stepping between them and pulling his pants down, revealing his thick length.

He rubbed the tip along your soaked folds, slickening himself up before he pushed inside, your walls met him with a tight grip, your mewls getting needier as he began to move. "Fuck," he groaned "gotta search for a new way to create a monster," each word was acompanied by a hard thrust. "but it's worth it if I get to keep this wonderful cunt..."

Your pussy fluttered around him once more, you couldn't think of anything other than getting fucked on an autopsy table by this crazy but handsome madman.

Steven slowed his pace, rolling his hips just right to hit the spot deep inside, it make your pussy squeeze him, causing him to gasp. "P-please don' do that it's -fuck- killin' me." Steven whimpers almost needily.

The sweet whimper escaping him made your mind go dumb on his cock, how it stuffed you, how it stretched your cunt so deliciously.

"Faster please!" you whined, wanting nothing more than to chase down your sweet release. Steven quickly complied your plea, his breath quickening as he slammed into you all over again.

His thrusts became erratic, sloppy even as he had lost himself in the pleasure of ruining your cunt from the inside out.

"'m 'bout to cum, get ready dove." he warned, letting out a groan a few seconds later as he shot his load into you. Your orgasm was close too and when you felt his hot, sticky cum spurt into you, it pushed you over the edge, your pussy gushed all over his cock.

When he pulled out, a mix of his cum and your juices trickled down your thigh and most of it got on the table beneath you.

"You were so good f' me. So good." Steven praised, he tucked his softened cock back and pulled his pants back up.

You catched your breath, calming down from the intense peak you had. "Am I free to go?"

Steven looked back at you. "Yes. But maybe you'd like to be my assistant?" he cupped your cheeks in his hands. "Think about it love. We. Side by side..."

To be honest, his confession caught you by surprise, but on the other hand it was tempting... being the partner in crime with a crazy but handsome doctor.

"I'll be your assistant, Steven." you accepted.

Steven smiled, pleased with your desicion. He helped you off the table and showed you the room you'll be staying in.

Steven is looking forward on having you as his trusty partner in crime.