#//DAMMIT DIEGO

[kasinonightlife]

Viktor: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Diego: *Crouches down*

Klaus: *Kneels down*

Luther: *Sits on the floor*

Five: *Stands on a chair*

Viktor:

Viktor: I hate all of you.

[tanaleth]

local lawyers being tragic again, news at 11

[soshadysoquiet]

It was my pleasure to draw some Soft Five holding Mr. Pennycrumb when asked. Then I realised I don't usually give Five's clothes much colour and had an aneurysm, the unicorn bag Did Not want to behave itself and got redesigned 3 times. Annnd then I got carried away and drew 4 5's to better showcase the lil gremlin with his emotional support mongrel.

Loved every minute, would 10/10 do more platonic 5 centric requests

I have 2 more doodles planned to do some time, thank you work meetings. The gift that keeps on giving.

[lunarblue21]

So I feel like my L21 story beats are outlined enough so I've began putting words into my gdoc for L21 - "That Day and Its Aftermaths - and it's already 378 words already.

I think this might be already long chapter since all that I have written right now is merely the herd's reaction and discussion to the plot twist at the end of L20 and we haven't pulled the camera back to the past at all yet...

I am feeling too like L21 might also address, finally, the ending passages of Tiger's Heart wrt Elder Titan to explain how and why that passage at the end between Titan and Ellie DOES "add something" within the contexts of Tiger's Heart and Lacrimosa itself because Manny is addressing cross-species' suspicions/hostilities looming in the CI present right now (for one, Axel - and Diego - are technically NOT WELCOME in the Bredelands because of Titan's new rules) and how he means to fix it by becoming Regent Elder.

However, anyone who has read Tiger's Heart will be aware that a hard road awaits him and Diego if he should do so...

[kateslife15]

Comic Con San Diego 2010 and 2013!7000 people screaming Loki in just 3 years!#loki #hiddlestoners #tomhiddleston #hiddleston #comiccon

[frozenwolftemplar]

Somehow, the Carmen Sandiego brainrot has taken hold even though I haven't watched an episode in months (no idea how that happened). So, how's about some headcanons? (feel free to play with any or all if they strike your fancy)

-- Carmen's room in headquarters has two wall clocks, one set to San Diego time and one to Ontario because

-- Player has a veritable army of cousins. Carmen never got a straight number because just when she thinks she's got them down, he'll offhandedly mention someone having a baby or something; quite honestly, he can't keep track either.

-- Carmen is nearly hopeless with numbers. Time zones, exchange rates, converting to imperial units when she's in the U.S., she never got the hang of any of it and has learned to just consult Player.

-- "Okay, that guy at the front desk said I'm ten miles from the Grand Canyon. How many-" "Sixteen, Red. Keep an eye out, it's easy to miss." "Very funny."

-- It drove the Faculty absolutely nuts that their 'golden opportunity' is math-stupid; they chalked it up to something she got from her mother's side.

-- It's not. Dexter Wolfe was just *that* good at hiding his dyscalculia.

-- The one math-y thing she can do is card counting, a key component of being an incorrigible cheat at board/card games. Because she will cheat at anything and everything.

-- Seriously, one time Zach and Ivy found an old Candyland game (just lying around the warehouse, don't ask) and Carmen, who had never seen the game in her life, positively trounced them.

-- They just *know* she has to be cheating but can't prove it.

-- Ivy, bewildered, to Carmen's cat-that-got-the-canary face: "How does someone cheat at Candyland?!?" She's just that good.

-- Whenever Shadowsan plays her in cards, it takes all of two minutes for the game to devolve from 'whatever they were supposed to be playing' to 'who's better at sleight of hand.' Not that he condones cheating, mind, but if Carmen's going to, well, he's not just going to let her get away with that.

-- Carmen as a kid was a very picky eater (her adventurous spirit not extending to the culinary world); the Faculty was as helpful as you'd expect.

-- "Dammit, Saira, I told you to quit trying to feed her that rice!" "Well I need someone to taste test-" (absolutely no sense of taste on Saira; lab accident, we don't talk about it) "-and you certainly haven't volunteered. Besides, this newest formula is fortified with three essential vitamins and minerals (at least, I think they're essential), which is more than those sweets you keep plying her with." "At least she eats those!"

-- Ivy and Zach are high school dropouts, figuring they could get ahead better with racing than with academics. As part of joining ACME they get their GED's (since they require *at least* a high school diploma) and the whole team (plus Chase and Julia) help out and are so proud when they pass.

-- The first thing Carmen always does in the morning, something that doesn't change post-series, is call Player. It's also the last thing she does before turning in at night. She can't imagine being any other way, and neither can he. (crud, they're just the bestest friends, I love them so much)

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 23

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut, fluff, angst, quiet hurt & a touch of heartbreak

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Oh, you'll hate me again for ending it like this. Have fun, guys 😂

<< 22 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

23. Every Breath You Take

“More?” Dean offers the half-emptied wine bottle and holds it over Y/N’s glass as they sit around the dinner table. The actress throws him a raised look with a little smile playing on her lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? You don’t have to. I’m already sleeping here,” she points out in amusement.

“Yeah, but when you’re buzzed, you let me do more shit.” The green-eyed director smirks.

“Ew, Dad!” Claire groans next to him. “I’m right here. This is why I don’t wanna do family dinner with you guys.”

“This was actually a nice idea,” Y/N says with a smile so bright it shows her dimples. “Thanks for cooking tonight. Perfect way to start our last week of filming.”

Dean’s heart stings slightly at her words, but he covers it with a tight smile. The last three weeks passed by rather quickly, and each week, he grew more worried, more nervous, more depressed, and more anxious. This was it. Seven more days before it all imploded. Six more nights before he might not see her again.

He has been wracking his brain, trying to come up with solutions to save the show – to keep her. Cas and Jo are out on fairs, networking with networks and showing their tape to other producers in hopes of getting picked up by someone else, still without any success.

“So, uh, any plans so far? Heard some of the girls are going to auditions, looking for other jobs,” Dean notes and nurses his beer. He doesn’t hold it against them. It’s the business, after all, and everyone’s trying to survive and find their next paycheck.

Y/N bobs her head and sets her wine glass down. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking about taking your advice and going to New York for auditions. I like the idea of doing theater or maybe even a musical.”

Dean forces a supportive smile on his face and hides the heartbreak in his ribcage. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great at it.”

“But, uhm, for now, I’m actually driving to San Diego in a few days for an audition for a musical. I’m not gonna get it, but I figured it’d be fun,” she tells him, and even though she downplays it, Dean can see the excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, why wouldn’t you get it?” he encourages her. He promised himself he’d always be her cheerleader, no matter his own feelings on the subject. He’s trying a new thing these days – it’s called being less selfish.

But God, he hopes she gets it. San Diego is a lot closer to LA than New York.

Y/N snorts into her glass, chuckling. “It’s a Sondheim musical, Dean. I’m not expecting to get it. It’s just good practice.”

“Aiming high, huh?” Dean laughs despondently and takes a big gulp of beer to choke down his tears.

Dammit, Dean thinks. He wishes he could call the dude and tell him what a great woman and actress Y/N is. He’d be lucky to have her in his production. Maybe the director could bribe him to hire her? Would that take things too far?

“How are you gonna get down there?” Dean’s eyes drift to the leg in a cast that rests on a chair next to him.

Y/N gives him a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take the bus?”

“I’ll drive you,” he says with a swig of his beer. See? Supportive. He’s really proud of himself, although he wishes he were a lot drunker right now.

“Ooh, uh, Claire, I borrowed two dresses from Alex for you. I put them in your room. You need to pick one for your Winter Formal,” Y/N tells his daughter with a bright smile.

But Claire shakes her head with teenage defiance. “I don’t need a dress. Jack and I are going ironically.”

Dean’s brow furrows in confusion as he blinks at his kid. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Claire rolls her eyes in response and groans. “Ugh, Dad, you’d think for someone who lived through counterculture, you’d understand.” With that, she gets up from the dinner table and takes her empty plate to the kitchen sink.

“I know what she means,” Y/N mumbles nonchalantly.

Dean’s bewildered gaze darts to her. “Really? What?”

Y/N coolly shrugs her shoulders as she sips on her wine before she sighs defeatedly. “Fine, I don’t know. I just wanted to sound cooler than you,” she admits with a cute smile.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“I’m going to bed. Good night! Don’t be too loud!” Claire yells before the door to her room slams shut.

Dean watches Y/N as she leans back in her chair with a blissful sigh and empties her glass. She has pretty much spent every night at his place since the hospital. At this point, the director has gotten so used to it that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one night she didn’t. Why can’t it stay this way?

He never thought he’d be someone who wants to have family dinners every night.

“Too tired for dessert?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk.

Y/N laughs lightly. “I wish one of these days you’d offer me actual dessert,” she quips.

“Like what? Chocolate cake? Pie? I’d actually love some pie. Maybe we should get one for tomorrow night,” Dean muses, chuckling.

Y/N grins mischievously at him and leans her elbows on the dinner table, resting her chin in her palms. “Maybe you can eat pie off of me.”

Dean curls his lips, his cheeks blushing at the idea alone. His dick seems to like it, too. “God, I love… your brain,” he quickly corrects his course before the wrong words slip out.

And it’s not like it isn’t true. While Y/N hasn’t been able to act and tumble around the ring, she’s been coming up with storylines and basically coordinated matches for the past three episodes. She’s also constantly by his side and mans the booth with him. If Dean didn’t sleep with her and like her, he’d actually be scared she’s coming for his job. She’s pretty much directing at this point, and he just lets her because, well, did he actually ever care?

But his declaration is only a small part of the truth, the full truth being that he loves more than just her damn brain and has for a long while. He’s been trying to say the words for weeks now, started and stopped a hundred times, and tried to pack his feelings into a coherent sentence that honestly shouldn’t be more than three words long.

However, those are some big three words. Monstrous for Y/N. And deep down, Dean knows she might feel like he does, too, but can’t admit it and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. To her, this little arrangement between them is nothing more than friends who fuck. Only Dean’s aware that they’re actually in a deeply serious relationship, which is maddeningly ridiculous.

But hey, if he keeps his mouth shut, they might make it another five years like this without Y/N running away, so that’s something.

Dean then rises from his seat and offers his hands to Y/N. Her leg is still in a cast, so she has been wobbling around on crutches or hopping clumsily across a room. It’s pretty darn cute.

“Thank you,” Y/N says gratefully as Dean helps her up and slings her arm around his neck before he fully hoists her into his arms. She giggles as he carries her into the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this every night, you know. I can walk just fine.”

“Says you, but truth is, you’ve never seen yourself walk on these things. It’s pathetic,” he teases her and plops her carefully down on the bed.

He flings off his shirt and removes his jeans and underwear as Y/N unbuttons her blouse. The mattress dips as he climbs into the bed and helps her discard her pants. It’s routine at this point, but Dean has really started to cherish the stability. Every morning when he wakes up and smiles at her, he loves knowing that he’ll fall asleep right next to her at night all over again.

Gently, he spreads her legs and slots between them. His lips find hers in the moonlit dark and kiss her with deep affection and burning love, always pouring his whole heart into each kiss and hoping one of these days it’ll stick.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he rolls it over his throbbing length and positions his dickhead at her entrance, slipping into her tight channel till she’s full of him. Her lips part as the same little gasp escapes her that he hears every time he enters her. He loves hearing that noise almost as much as he loves to hear the big one when she comes and the medium ones in-between.

Sometimes, Dean makes her come before, but on nights like these, when she’s already had half a bottle of wine, he rather works quick. While wine makes her louder and more daring, it also renders her quite sleepy.

“Fuck,” she sighs and closes her eyes with a euphoric smile, her pussy gripping his cock tight as she clenches around him. “You’re always so good at that.”

Dean smiles amusedly. Wine makes her chatty, too. “I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” he remarks.

“Well, I guess I just-… I just love your cock,” she says bluntly and grins up at him. “And those lips.”

See? Wine.

“These ones?” Dean asks teasingly and leans down, pulling one of her nipples between them till she squirms.

“Uh-huh, yes…” she moans softly and cards her hands through his hair, causing a groan to pass his lips. “And that tongue.”

“This one?” Dean lets his tongue roll over that same nipple till it peaks, feeling her arch her back underneath him.

“Yes, and God, those hands and fingers…” she almost whines.

“Those two?” Dean snakes a hand between their bodies, two of his fingers finding her clit and drawing tickling circles.

There’s no more strength left for words. She bites harshly down on her bottom lip and nods vividly. Her cunt clutches him tightly, eliciting a giddy chuckle from him. He loves making her squirm.

Three more squeezes, and he knows he has to move before she grows impatient. He knows her well by now, knows every little detail about her, and loves that he does. They haven’t even been able to do half the things he wants to do to her due to her current injury and inability to move (or bend) as freely.

And yet, he’s still not fucking bored, not in the slightest. He keeps waiting for it, but it never comes.

On the contrary, he appreciates the feeling of knowing someone so deeply and intimately as he knows Y/N. She has become a part of his soul, and he doesn’t know if he could ever cut her out without severely hurting himself. He’s not sure if he could survive a wound this deep.

“Dean, please…”

That was the fourth – like clockwork.

Dean manages to thrust twice before loud punk rock music shakes the walls and drowns out every noise in the entire house. Hell, the whole neighborhood can probably hear it.

Frustrated, his head drops momentarily to Y/N’s shoulder as the actress snorts a giggle. He can feel her body and cunt trembling around him, but not for the reason it should.

“Claire!” Dean shouts angrily. “Turn that fucking music down! Y/N’s trying to sleep!”

“No, she’s not!” his kid yells back through the wall and the unbearable music. “I know you guys are having sex! I don’t wanna hear anything!”

“We’re not having sex,” Dean barks and watches as Y/N gapes at him in sheer playfulness.

“Wow, you lie like that to your kid?” she teases him.

“What d’you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m inside of her now’?” Dean retorts wryly, making Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter as she snorts into his shoulder. “Can you please stop laughing while I’m trying to fuck you? My soldier’s already retreating.”

But Y/N only laughs harder at that, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dean’s lips purse with a sigh through his nose. She then exhales a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself. He’s seen her do this very move a hundred times during an acting scene.

She clears her throat and tries to force a more serious look onto her features. “How about a little Russian motivation?” she says in her infamous accent and smiles when his cock twitches in agreement. “Maybe some oral manipulation, yes?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grins and leans down to capture her lips. “God, I love yo… your pussy,” he quickly corrects himself once more. That was a close one.

Alright, don’t look at him like that and don’t judge him. He’s trying. He really is.

But Jesus fucking Christ, he loves living these days. Who knew his forties would be the best time of his life?

With a big yawn, Y/N rubs her eyes and stretches her arms over her head. The shower in the main bathroom is running with Dean already in it. She grabs her crutches and hops to the window, opening the blinds to let some sunlight in.

She takes a deep breath and enjoys the morning silence for a moment, her gaze drifting out the quiet neighborhood. It has never been this peaceful in the motel. The last three weeks, she has really appreciated waking up in Dean’s bed. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at this point, but he hasn’t kicked her to the curb yet, so she hasn’t been in a hurry to return to the motel, either.

He was right – the memory foam mattress is fucking heaven, especially with a broken ankle.

All in all, she imagined being benched for the show would be a lot worse than it is. Dean’s done a great job of incorporating her anywhere outside of the ring. She’s helping with storylines, training, directing, producing – really anything that could use a few tweaks. The green-eyed director is unfashionably nice to her. Maybe it’s the sex or their friendship or a combination of both. Either way, she’s grateful for him.

However, there’s this tiny voice inside her head that keeps telling her there’s a reason why Dean’s been so nice, and it’s not just the sex. It’s certain kisses and touches and looks – especially the looks – that make her believe there’s something lying underneath the surface. An iceberg so gigantic it could sink the Titanic. Whenever she catches his clandestine gazes from her periphery, there’s this inexplicable feeling that creeps through her veins.

Her peace is disturbed when excessive knocking and an uninterrupted ringing of the doorbell draw her attention to the front door. A part of her expects to find her best friend behind it. Only Jo could be this ruthless and obnoxious.

Y/N hurries to the door as fast as she can, which isn’t fast at all, considering she’s on crutches. Everything is just awkward and slow these days, but she’s been practicing moving around in hopes of joining the show again for the final episode. Billie and Donna have been helping her, too.

But as Y/N opens the door, she’s not greeted by the familiar blonde but by a brunette stranger instead. The only similarity the woman shares with Jo is that she’s incredibly hot and angry, too.

“Can I help you?” Y/N asks with a look of bewilderment, although she shouldn’t be surprised to find a mad woman on Dean’s doorstep.

“I’m Lisa Braeden. I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, somewhat impatiently.

Oh.

“Uh…”

Y/N stumps for a moment, eyeing the woman in front of her closely. So, this is Claire’s mother. Dean’s ex. She tries not to feel insecure around her, but it’s hard, considering the woman is a bombshell with perfect curves and flawless features. And if she looks like that now, Y/N wonders what she must’ve looked like seventeen years ago.

The actress suddenly feels very exposed in only the director’s flannel. Truthfully, she looks like she just crawled out of a gutter. Maybe it’s the fact she has just woken up and is sporting major bed-head, but Lisa probably thinks Dean took in a homeless person. The cast and crutches don’t help, either. And then, Y/N wonders why a part of her cares at all what the brunette thinks and reminds herself it’s not a competition.

“Dean? Dean!”

Her voice carries a certain amount of panic that’s probably uncalled for. Yet, it helps. The shower turns off, and not a minute later, Dean stands next to her with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad chest still glistening with droplets of water.

He does know how to make an entrance.

Dean’s brow is deeply creased when he takes in the woman at the door, lacking a sense of recognition, however. “What the fuck is all that noise?”

“I’m the fucking noise,” Lisa replies dryly. “I’m here for my kid.”

“Oh…” Dean stumps as well. Then, he swallows thickly and gives her a nervous smile. “Hi, uhm, I’m Dean Winchester.”

“I know who you fucking are, you moron,” Lisa huffs, shaking her head. “You got me pregnant. Where’s Claire?” When neither Dean nor Y/N answer, Lisa rolls her eyes and waltzes past the two inside the house. “Claire!”

“Sure, come on in,” Dean mutters under his breath and shares a wide-eyed look with Y/N, hoping for some guidance.

The actress eyes him up and down, pensively licking her lips. “Maybe you should get dressed.”

With some pants and a shirt on, Dean and Y/N have retreated to the kitchen and sip quietly on their cups of coffee while Lisa and Claire scream at each other. It’s a classic mother and teenage daughter battle. Claire fights for freedom, while Lisa fights for control.

“I had sex with that woman seventeen years ago. Now she’s in my house, yelling at my kid,” the director voices his thoughts out loud, a hint of trepidation shimmering in his green eyes.

“Yup, life has a way of catching up with you. Kinda learned that this year,” Y/N notes with pursed lips and sends him a smile. “But hey, they’re your family now. Kinda nice, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Dean huffs with a bitter look and watches Y/N place her mug in the sink.

“I should probably go. Leave you guys to figure this out,” Y/N announces, one hop on a healthy foot away from walking out the door. “I’ll call a cab.”

“No, don’t! You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Dean pleads, the sheer panic and desperation visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. His gaze bores into her. “C’mon, I need you. This is one of those, you know, friendship moments. Like abortions and getting over coke addictions.”

Y/N lets out a small sigh. How could she leave him after everything he’s done for her? She basically has no choice but to stay and help him through this. “What d’you want me to do? Mediate?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean shrugs helplessly. “I just know I’m gonna say all the wrong shit at the wrong time. Please. I don’t wanna lose my kid. Help me.”

As she catches his gaze, there’s that inexplicable feeling creeping through her veins again. This time, it even tugs on her heart.

“Okay, uhm, alright. I’ll stay,” she promises him, offering him a small smile of comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Dean comes close to saying the three ominous words once more. It’s getting harder every day to keep them inside. How long does he have until he bursts? He feels like a ticking time bomb.

“Maybe we should all sit down and talk?” Y/N suggests as soon as Claire has stormed into her room and slammed the door in upset.

“About what?” Lisa barks, half-annoyed as she rests her hands on her squared-off hips. “She’s been lying to me for months.”

“Okay, in my defense, she told me you were crazy,” Dean explains with an innocent shrug.

“I don’t care if she told you I beat her and locked her into the basement. If a kid has run away from home, you call their mother,” Lisa retorts furiously.

Dean purses his lips in defeat for a moment, especially when Y/N seems to agree. She’s kind of his moral compass, but he’s not ready to accept his loss yet. “Well, you didn’t call me to tell me you were having a kid. My kid,” he argues and knows it’ll probably backfire. He can tell by Y/N’s frown.

“Oh, excuse me for not calling the guy who didn’t stay for breakfast,” Lisa counters with an eye roll.

Dean’s brow furrows, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s what happened.” Granted, he’s been high for two decades now.

“I asked if you wanted pancakes. You said, ‘No, thanks, but that was fun.’ And then you got into your car and bolted, never to be seen again,” Lisa recalls, frowning.

“Uhm, that sounds like it was a long time ago,” Y/N interjects in his defense, chuckling nervously. “He’s a different and more mature person now.”

Dean’s heart swells to twice its size. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. Although, he can tell she only said it to win Lisa over. She’s a good actress, making even him believe her words. But she’s helping him, so it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks for the input. Who are you again? Are you his fucking maid?” Lisa arches a brow at her, eyeing her up and down.

“No, she’s not my maid,” Dean replies fiercely but then doesn’t know what else to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Friend? Nothing sounds right. “She’s my, uhm, she’s my actress. She’s my… You know, she’s… She’s Y/N.”

At that, Y/N’s brow draws together in the middle with a tilt of her head. Dean surmises that answer probably sounded even weirder.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve changed so much.” Lisa scoffs sarcastically and folds her arms over her chest, her patience running low.

Y/N subtly clears her throat, deciding to step in. God knows the director needs all the help he can get. “Okay, uhm, it doesn’t really matter who I am,” she says and shares a look with Dean, who anxiously chews his bottom lip raw. “What matters is that Dean has really connected with Claire over the last few months. He’s enrolled her in high school, she has joined AV club, she’s got a really nice and sweet boyfriend.” Dean grimaces at that last part, but Y/N skillfully ignores it and continues, “They’re going to Winter Formal tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m chaperoning,” Dean announces proudly. “This dance is very meaningful to her.”

Lisa snorts a laugh, clearly amused. “My kid does not go to dances.”

“Yes, I do!” Claire suddenly stands in the middle of the living room with the brightest smile. It’s freaky, really. She gleefully holds up the two dresses Y/N brought over last night, feigning her excitement. “Which one should I wear?”

Lisa and Dean disagree on the dress choice, but when Y/N sides with Lisa, Claire takes the hint and quickly disappears back into her room.

“It’s just one night, and it will give you two some time to catch up. Figure this out,” Y/N advocates suggestively.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dean agrees and clears his dry throat, wishing he had a bottle of booze in his hand to calm his nerves. Man, in stressful situations like these, he does miss coke sometimes. But fucking Y/N has been a great substitute, so maybe he’ll just do that as soon as that crazy woman leaves his house again. “Look, I get that you’re angry. But I’m really trying here, okay? She’s doing great at school, I gave her a curfew… I wanna make up for lost time,” he explains sincerely. Y/N sends him a proud smile.

“Fine, one night, but tomorrow we’re leaving,” Lisa relents with a sigh. “I’m not gonna indulge this fucking father-daughter fantasy,” she huffs and then finally storms out of the house.

Y/N exhales a long sigh of relief. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“You think?” Dean checks insecurely. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Y/N hadn’t been here to support him. “You’re coming tonight, right?”

Surprised by the request, Y/N’s brow meets her hairline. “You want me to go to your daughter’s Winter Formal with you?”

“Yes, obviously,” Dean states matter-of-factly and blinks at her. “You can’t leave me alone with that woman.”

Y/N heaves another sigh as she looks at him. “Okay, fine,” she surrenders.

Sitting on the bleachers of a fully decorated gym, Y/N realizes she has kind of missed high school. At least, everything used to be much simpler back then. Your crush would ask you to go steady, you’d say yes or no, and then you’d be broken up shortly after prom.

Adulthood is complicated. People are complicated. And love is goddamn unfathomably complicated.

“It’s so weird seeing her with her first high school boyfriend,” Lisa notes with a small sigh next to her. “I still remember her drawing with crayons. Now, she’s running miles away, lying, and making out with a boy.”

“Yeah, teenage romance is a lot more intense,” Y/N says, chuckling softly.

“She won’t wear a dress to my wedding. Refused to. Screamed bloody murder,” Lisa says thoughtfully. “But after spending a few months with her estranged father, she suddenly puts one on.”

“People are complicated,” Y/N reiterates her earlier sentiment.

Claire is complicated. Dean is complicated. And Y/N? She might be the most complicated of all.

“My fiancé is not,” Lisa says, a delicate smile playing across her lips. It’s enough to show her happiness. “I always used to date these guys that would run so hot and then completely cold the next minute. I never knew where I stood. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah, I get it…”

Y/N’s eyes drift to Dean as he chats with one of the other dads by the buffet. She doesn’t know what the director wants from her. She doesn’t know what their relationship even is. One minute, it feels epic, like a love so legendary it should only exist on the silver screen. And the next minute, it feels trivial, like it should’ve never existed at all.

But Dean’s not the problem. Deep down, she knows what that creeping feeling in the pits of her stomach is. And she knows she’s not ready for it. Truth is, Y/N has no idea what she wants and feels lost. Because if she admits one thing, it’d mean the end of another. If she stays in LA for a guy, what would that mean for her career? She doesn’t want to end up like Jo. She’s finally about to have it all, only to realize both at the same time are a mere dream.

And worst of all, even if she did know what she wanted, she’s doesn’t know if she deserves it.

“So, what d’you do, son?” an older man next to Dean asks. He’s already balding and gray, as is the scruffy beard he’s sporting. His suit jacket with a name tag that reads “Chaperone” looks a little worn and sleazy, too. The director figured he’d be one of the oldest dads here, so this guy comes as a pleasant surprise.

“I’m a director of a women’s wrestling show,” Dean replies and takes a sip from the fruit punch. None of the kids have spiked it yet, which is quite the disappointment. What’s happening to today’s youth, huh? “And you?”

“Oh, nice.” The man nods with a smile and pulls out a business card from his suit jacket, handing it to Dean. “Bobby Singer. I own a small chain of strip clubs, although my wife Ellen would probably like me to tell you I’m a small business owner.”

“Got it.” Dean chuckles and glances at the card in his hands. “Bobby’s Body Shop. Oh, hey, I know this one! ‘Where the girls are hotter than the asphalt,’” he quotes the club’s tagline proudly, grinning. “I’m there all the time! Actually got one of your girls in my show.”

Bobby chuckles. “Well, next time you’re there, ask for me. I’ll get you a discount.”

“Thanks.” Dean smirks. And Cas claims you can only network on the fucking golf course. “Oh, hey, you should catch one of our shows. It’s our last one this week. It’s pretty badass. We’re over at the old gym in Watts.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there,” Bobby says with a smile.

Dean’s eyes then drift to Y/N on the bleachers. Last time he checked on her, she was still chatting with Lisa, but the brunette has since left. And as he glances at her now, Y/N has found herself encircled by a group of horny teenage boys, causing his brows to draw together and meet in the middle. They’re like fucking vultures.

“Shoo!” Dean barks sternly at the young men as he approaches the group and watches them scurry away with their tails tugged between their scrawny legs.

With an amused smile, Y/N arches an eyebrow at him. “Glad you’ve decided to join me. It was getting crowded. I’ve turned down about twenty offers to dance.”

“Look at you, you little heartbreaking cougar,” Dean retorts with a teasing smile. “You’re gonna turn me down, too?”

“I have a broken ankle. Did you forget that part? I can’t dance,” Y/N replies.

“Oh, c’mon, that never stopped you before. ‘Sides, I’ve got two working legs and can’t dance, either. So, what d’you say, huh?” Dean holds out his hands for her to grasp.

“Fine,” Y/N relents and grabs his hands, hopping to her feet. “Let’s do some awkward swaying.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dean laughs and rests his palms on her hips, helping her stand as she locks her arms around his neck.

“Is that what you had in mind?” Y/N asks teasingly as she looks up and meets his gaze.

“Kinda.” Dean dips his head and catches her lips, deepening the kiss with his tongue slipping inside her mouth.

“Dean,” she scolds him softly with blushed cheeks and a giggle that surely won’t keep him from doing shit. “There’s people here. Teenagers.”

“So? It’s nothing they wouldn’t do,” Dean remarks mischievously. “And no one’s here that we know. Claire’s caught us like a million times already, and Lisa doesn’t care. C’mon, we never get to do those things in public,” he appeals with a wiggle of his brows.

“Alright,” Y/N surrenders with a small sigh and a smile, tiptoeing up on one foot to press her soft lips back on his. She feels him breath into the kiss, cherishing every second of it. His hands wander from her hips to cup her cheeks, causing her to almost topple over as he forgets that he’s been steadying her. “Whoa, Dean!”

Her giggle interrupts the kiss as she tightens her grip around his neck before he moves his hands back to their place on her hips, offering her support again. She leans her head against his chest, and he rests his chin on her crown.

“Sorry, got carried away there for a moment,” he apologizes with a snicker, pecking the top of her head gently.

“Yeah, that happens with you sometimes,” she teases and buries her head deeper into his shirt. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you on something again?”

Dean wants to say it’s love, but that sounds too fucking cheesy.

“Nope, still clean,” he replies instead and doesn’t take offense in her question. “Just nerves, I guess. There’s something I wanna tell you,” he says and licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

Y/N looks up and finds his green eyes, her brow knitting in curiosity. But there’s a perceptive shimmer in her orbs, and Dean knows she can already anticipate what’s coming next. Judging by her shift in weight, he can tell she doesn’t want him to say it out loud.

“Shit, uhm…” She squeezes her eyes shut and fumbles for an excuse. Dean gives her a plethora of time to find a believable one. “I have to go. I promised the girls we’d work out a plot for the finale together tonight, celebrate our last week.”

Dean’s lips quiver but manage to find a smile. “You sure?”

Reluctantly, Y/N still nods and lets out a tense breath. “Yeah.”

It feels like dancing around a big, pink elephant between them. Both of them pretend it’s invisible, although it’s painfully not. It’s even roaring or hooting or whatever the fuck elephants do.

“Alright, I’ll drive you to the motel,” Dean capitulates with a resigned nod.

“No, uh, stay,” she tells him and clumsily hops back to the bleachers to grab her crutches. “I’ll get a cab. You should spend your night with Claire. Figure things out with Lisa.”

“Okay,” Dean caves once more but then grabs hold of her, pulling her to his lips. The kiss is fervent and heated and desperate. So fucking desperate. “One for the road,” he says with a painful smile as he draws back. He doesn’t want to admit that it might be the last one they have shared.

Y/N’s look tells him she feels the finality, too. It’s the epilogue of the best book he’s ever read. The end credits of his favorite movie. The final episode of a show he loved.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly with a hesitant lip bite and a harrowing swallow.

“Don’t be. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean says and sends her one last weak smile before he watches her walk away with an aching heart.

24. Don't Dream It's Over

Honestly, even my cold, cold heart weeped at the end there. Poor Dean 😢💔 But as you can guess from next week's title, we're not done yet 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus

Everything Dean: @SnowAyumi

[katberk]

So I’m having a blast with these generated quotes so have some more!

Five, about Y/N: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Lila: Are we stealing them?

Diego: New or used?

Five: Wonderful responses, both of you.

Five, banging on the door: Y/N! Open up!

Y/N: Well, it all started when I was a kid...

Luther: No, he meant-

Klaus: Let them finish.

Lila: Dumbest scar stories, go!

Allison: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Diego: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.

Klaus: I have a piece of graphite in my leg from stabbing myself with a pencil after getting high.

Y/N: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn.

Five: …

Five: I have emotional scars.

Five: Dammit, Klaus!

Klaus: What?! It wasn’t me!

Five: Sorry, force of habit. Dammit, Lila!

Lila: Not me either.

Five: Oh...Then who set the house on fire?

Y/N: *whistles*

Lila: Why are Five and Y/N sitting with their backs to each other?

Diego: They had a fight.

Lila: Then why are they holding hands?

Diego: They get sad when they fight.

Luther: You know those things will kill you, right?

Five: *Pouring another glass of whiskey* That’s the point.

Klaus: *Smoking a cigarette* We’re trying to speed up the process.

Y/N: *Nods while eating raw cookie dough*

[theplottdump]

Things weren't looking much better for 008. Caught trespassing - by a dog no less - in a restricted zone that had no pertinence to her current mission. It was humiliating. She could see the Directors bemused eyebrow shooting up reading the report back at HQ now.

Dammit Poppy, you and your watcher damned hallucinations.

Still- she needed to extract herself from the situation as cleanly as possible, noting all points of egress from the room as well as any blunt objects that could be used to pacify the target- before defaulting to what she did best:

Girlboss, Gaslight, Emotionally Manipulate.

She dropped her gaze down his chest, slowly, but deliberately, drinking him in like a fine wine as she approached- scanning for weak points- old injuries, bad joints. No luck. While not in prime fighting shape- 008 had no doubt the laborer could hold his own in a fight if pressed.

"I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to scare you," she falsely inflated her voice with an absent airiness that indicated a certain lack of social awareness- "It's just- the front desk told me to talk to you- about the horses we'll need today, Mister…?

"Uh- Diego." he stumbled slightly, thoroughly confused by the sudden change in atmosphere. "Just Diego is fine." "Diego." The agent echoed him, making sure he heard every syllable on her tongue. "Nice to mee-"

Diego: I uh- I have a phone. . . . Kate: What?

The spell she had been carefully working to craft had bounced off the man with little to no effect. His blunt interruption like a slap across the face. 𝘙𝘶𝘥𝘦.

Diego: The rooms should have the extension labeled clearly on all the landlines. Kate: Oh.

[hangmansgbaby]

Royally Pucked O N E

Masterlist

San Diego was beautiful. I had only ever visited on vacation as a child but now, standing outside of my new job and looking at the ocean, I loved it even more.

And the rink! It's gorgeous! Walking in, the awe factor only grows! I'm distracted by the architecture when someone calls my name.

"Dr Thomas!" I turn and see the man walk towards me. He has dirty blonde hair with a slight curl and brown eyes, which is pretty much all I can focus on at the moment.

"Hi." I say as I shake his hand. "And please, Layne is fine."

"Layne, I'm Bradley, Alt captain and Right Wing for the Daggers. They asked me to show you to your office." Bradley smiles, "Plus I figure I could give you a tour along the way."

"A tour would be lovely." I smile and he leads me down a hallway.

"So down here is where you have all the main offices. Operations, general, and PR managers. Farther down are the conference rooms, the press conference room is all the way at the end." Bradley explains as we walk through the lobby of the practice arena. Bradley leads me towards a hallway on the other side of the lobby as he talks. "So what brought you all the way out here from…?"

"Texas, and I just needed a change of scenery." I responded.

"Well there is plenty of that here." Bradley smiles as he opens the door for me. "This is where the team can usually be found. Locker rooms to the right, gym to the left with views of the practice rink. And of course your office is just past and connected to the gym." Bradley turns to face me once we arrive at the door. "Sports tables and equipment are in here and your office is through the door on the back wall."

"Thank you so much, Bradley, really."

"No problem. Oh," Bradley reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper and quickly writes something down. "If you need anything just gimme a call or text me, okay? Anything at all."

"I will." I smile. "Thanks again, Bradley."

"Of course, Layne." He replies before walking back into the lobby.

I sigh softly as I enter my office. I glance around, taking a quick inventory of my desk and filing cabinets. The door behind me opens and I turn, expecting to see the assistant who works here, but instead l see an unfamiliar woman. She looks at me for a few seconds before speaking.

"You're the new PT?"

"Yep. That's me." I smile.

"You won't let the boys walk all over you right?" I shake my head and she immediately sighs. "Good! I'm Nat, my husband is Javy. You should have a file on his shoulder injury from last season." My eyes scan my desk to find it third from the top of a stack right in the middle. "Yes that one. He's gonna say he's fine and doesn't need tape or a physical. He's insane, and please tape him." Nat nods before making her way back out.

I laugh as I open her husbands folder. The folder contains a lot of information about what happened and how the healing process has been. The previous PT was pretty thorough on top of the physician's notes.

I'm nearly through the file when I hear voices coming from the PT room and I immediately recognize one that I thought I'd never hear again.

"She talked to the new PT already?"

"I don't even know how she got here so fast!" The other voice exclaims. "She dropped the kids off not even 10 minutes ago, and it's a 30 minute drive from the school!"

"You must be Mr. Machado." I laugh, walking into the room and over to one of the storages. The two men snap their heads up and stare at me like I've grown another head.

"I… uh…" Machado stammers before glancing over his shoulder at the his friend. "Yea, I'm sure you've already spoken to my wife."

"I did and I assured her that you couldn't convince me to not follow doctors orders."

"Dammit." Javy mutters as he hops up onto the table.

"You're screwed, dude." His friend laughs as he sits on another table.

"And you are?" I ask as I start wrapping Javy's shoulder.

"Jake Seresin. I'm captain on the team."

"Jake." I give him a soft smile, lifting up to meet his eyes. They're the same as the ones I looked into last year in Denver.

"Could we chat for a sec?" Jake asks, motioning to my office.

"I'm kinda busy." I laugh, applying some tape to hold the wrap in place.

"Please." Jake almost pleads with me.

I'm about to protest Javy interrupts. "Well this feels great! I think I'm gonna go catch up with the other guys. See ya, Doc." He gives Jake a wink before heading to the exit.

"Alright." I say, returning the supplies to their home before walking to my office.

"So are we not gonna talk about it?" Jake questions as he follows me.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Seresin." I reply, gathering a clipboard and my jacket.

"Seriously?" He seems almost hurt by my statement.

I'm not going to talk about Denver with Roc- Jake. We work together. It's unprofessional and I for one prefer not to make that mistake again.

"I don't. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to the ice," I say as I walk past him, "which I assume, you should too."

Taglist (join here): @mamachasesmayhem @sarahsmi13s @thedroneranger @kmc1989 @dempy @buckysteveloki-me @hangmanshoney @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @midnightmagpiemama @djs8891 @xoxabs88xox

[agent-toast]

I finished watching Umbrella Academy season 3 ep10. Here is a compilation of my reactions.

(not in order probably, just what i can remember)

-hello klaus nice to see you

-no don't ring the bell DON'T RING THE BELL WHY

-i was just beginning to like the old man

-then he is bad guy

-i'm sad

-finally allison is acting like a rational human being again

-diego you're stupid what if a sword swingin samurai dude breaks down the closet door? lila should stick with you so that she can mimic your power THIS IS STUPID

-wait how does lila mimic viktor's power without viktor using it at the time? eh whatever

-yes five you finally realised that the pattern on the flamingo is the same as the tattoo on your 100 year old self muahaha i knew that for a few episodes

-ew cockroaches

-do married people always have to kiss? aye if you're gonna do it, do it quickly. thank you.

-stand on them stars :D

-allison is not the chosen one :o

-hurry up five go teleport onto the sta- OH SHIT HIS ARM

-FIVE LOST HIS ARM

-OH GOD FIVE LOST HSI ARM

-ok he teleport onto the star yes

-wHAt why is hotel orange

-it's a machine from another universe???

-oh god they're dying oh god

-the acting is really good

-ALLISON SAVE THEM

-i really hate the reginald man

-GO ALLISON GO

-HAH why is the blood green? eh whatever

-five are you okay viktor are you okay

-don't press that button allison

-i like how the yelling overlaps

-oop she pressed the button

-allison are you hallucinating? also what is going on?

-the hell is this place

-narcissistic shit putting a bust of your own face in a place you built

-FIVE LOST HIS ARm oh wait he got it back

-does sloane no longer exist? since the universe reset?

-luther, the boy has just been through a traumatic incident. he lost his fricking arm. do not harass him further.

-oh no teleporty boy cannot teleport

-i like how five not being able to blink is just aidan gallagher acting out teleporting every time

-go watch the videos of him acting and you'll see

-they all got turned off creative mode by reggie

-viktor just stands there lookin at his hands

-allison? where did she go? is she dead??

-klaus being like 'aww i'm no longer immortal dammit it was getting good too!'

-k bye everyone see you at the next wedding or funeral

-damn right viktor that old man's an asshole

-he's also alive apparently

-who is that? grace? she also looks like sissy? or sloane? huh? what?

-next day: i realised that it's abigail the girl on the moon, stupid me haha

-thanks people for telling me in the tags

-did you guys see the ending where ben is sitting on the train looking all emo and cool

-what he reading there

-well i'm kinda sad now. gotta wait till 2024 for new content

-why is everyone simping for five btw that's kind of questionable

-and people are simping for aidan gallagher too? which is very questionable

-well time to sleep :D

[romanarose]

My Hero

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Reader is just me. What can I say.

Summary: You work at the coffee shop of the London Museum, and you're used to guys being a bit weird, but when one gets a bit handsy, your work crush steps in to help you

Warnings: Guy being creepy, inappropriate touching (just the shoulder) slight aggressive behavior (grip on arm), anxiety attack, references to past trauma but I promise this fic is pretty light, mostly about Steven being a sweety. Breif refernce to Linkin Park and Chester Bennington's suicide, just a fair warning.

A/N: Like most of my fics, this is based off of something that happened to me while working at a cafe in San Diego, except I didn't have a Steven Grant to save me, I had to try and override my freeze response to get out of it, and cry outside alone. Like everything in my life, I process it though writing, to allow myself control over the situation. I was pretty proud of myself for being able to get out of it without help, when for years, I would just freeze.

Italics are Marc, bold is steven, red is jake.

****************

Christ, he was handsome. Disarmingly so. Steven Grant, your coworker at the gift shop, was just the right kind of dorky. You didn't mean dorky as an insult, ooohhhh no. You were a huge dork. You had a baby Yoda Shirt on right now, and a Simple Plan tattoo from your emo phase that you never quit grew out of.

'It's not a phase mum! This is who I am now!'

And it wasn't a phase! It was who you were!

And Steven seemed to enjoy it, although he may not fully understand it. He came to your register one day, looking absolutely dead tired, not looking at you as he said hello and mumbled something about 'Whatever has caffeine' You gently explain that since this is a coffee shop, almost everything has caffeine. He looked up at you like he was about to break down crying if he had to make a single choice.

"Okay! Okay uuuhhh do you like drinks more sweet, or earthy taste?"

"Er, sweet I supposse. But I'm vegan" He perked up a bit at your bright, patient smile. Get it Steven

"Yeah no problem! We have a vegan caramel, it's a $0.50 upcharge, so are the milk subs, is that okay?"

Cheapest date we've ever had

"Right, of course, no problem there, do you have oat?"

"Absolutely!" There was no line, so you went ahead and made his drink, vegan caramel macchiato two double espresso. "Here, try it!"

Steven, this isn't coffee this is sugar

The man took a drink, and looked almost relieved. "Oh it's wonderful, love! How much do I owe you?" You finally smiled at you, and you felt like your heart would fly out your chest.

God dammit, she's trouble.

You shake your head. "No charge today, call it a taste test"

Okay, now this is the cheapest date we've ever been on

"Oh no! No, I can pay! I don't want to get you in trouble"

You reassure him. "You won't, I'm the morning manager, just come back for more sometime, yeah?"

Damn right we'll be back.

Steven put 5 quid in your tip jar before promising he'd be back. And he was. Every morning for coffee, and usually again in the afternoons for tea. You had taken to visiting him in the gift shop if he was too busy to come to your side, which eventually turned to you bringing him a tea every afternoon, to which he'd respond shock every single time you handed him the cup. He'd take it with a "Oh love, you shouldn't have!" Every single time, as if he was surprised someone was continuously showing him kindness.

In turn, Steven would listen to you talk about your music interests. Even though he had never heard of the music you talked about, he kept a mental cataloged of everything you mentioned and actively participated in the conversation. "What? My Chemical Romance released a new song?! How long was that hiatus, 10 years? How they kept that a secret, I'll never know"

You had to admit your little work crush was turning into something deeper, as the months drew on with him, and yet you couldn't make a move. You weren't afraid of asking men out, much to your traditional parents' horror, but Steven was different. You had a friendship you cared deeply about, how could you risk that. What would you do if you didn't see his face int he morning, disheveled but smiling? What else did you have going on after work, other than to wonder the museum with him as he explained the niche facts he knew? Who would sit with you on your lunch break and tell you about the bullshit things Donna would say to him about his autism, and then insist you not report her because he doesn't want to cause problems? Sweet Steven meant the world to you. And you knew damn well that shy man wouldn't ask you out if he even was interested.

So here you were, waiting for him to come see you for his morning coffee where you never upcharged him, so you can show him the video's your friend took of Matty Heely at the concert they went too.

The playlist in the coffee shop right now was yours. You were allowed to play your music as long as there wasn't swearing or too much screaming, so you have found a playlist of lighter emo/rock songs. However, you had failed to check it all the way through, and Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park came on, a song that you could no longer listen to after Chester Bennington's death on your birthday. You set down the latter you were working on as the espresso dripped into the cup, going to go skip the song.

But this slight detour in making coffee in order to prevent you from crying at 8 am on a Tuesday was simply too much for the man who was waiting on his stupid overpriced latte as you reached for your phone.

"Ma'am" He stepped into your work area behind the counter as you walked past, grabbing your arm. "How much longer on the coffee?" He asked.

Your entire world focused in on the man's grip on you, and the music playing overhead threatening to take your back to the place you had been in when he died. His grip was light, so you tried to take a step back, muttering 'excuse me', but his grip tightened harsh enough to cause bruises as his fingers dug painfully into your skin. "You should take care of customers before playing on your phone"

You froze, as he started yelling about needing his coffee, but not letting you move. The music was too much and the emotions the song brought mixed with the memories the man's grip on you triggered, you found yourself unable to move, your young coworker standing by in shock, unsure what to do.

The next thing you register is slightly being yanked forward as the man was pulled away from you, and Steven Grant stepping between your near-hyperventilating form. You have enough thought to turn off that godforsaken song with the phone in your hand, realizing then that Steven hand his arm out beside you, in case the man tried anything further. "Alright mate, lets back away, yeah?"

"She's supposed to be making my coffee" He argued, taking another step to move behind the counter, but Steven's other hand pushed him back, his body blocking the man's accesssto you and the 18-year-old you were working with.

"You'll get your bloody coffee, one more step and it'll be on your face instead."

You couldn't imagine you're sweet Steven throwing hot coffee on someone, but something told you that even if he didn't follow through with that threat, the man wouldn't touch you again, nor poor McKenna, who was just trying to pay for college.

The man stared at Steven like he was assessing the situation. Steven wasn't tall by any means, and it wasn't like he was jacked, but he was deceptively strong, and you had a itching feeling the passive man would go absolutely unhinged if the need arose. There was spark in his eyes, a passion that said he knew right from wrong and he would defend it if he could.

The man must've seen it too, because he took a few steps back, raising his hands in defeat and suddenly acted all innocent. "Alright mate, no trying to start anything, just want me coffee"

"Here" McKenna handed him the coffee and he left.

Steven watched him leave. The absolute nerve of him, thinking he can go around harassing girls just trying to do their jobs. Everyone complains about a lack of service workers, but Christ can you blame them? I wouldn't want to do this shite either with twits like that hanging about!

Steven, he's leaving, go check on her Marc reminded him, knowing how Steven can get distracted

Oh! Right, thanks mate What Steven saw broke his heart.

You were staring off into space, shaking as your coworker tried to comfort you, but you looked like you were about to cry. Steven rushed over, careful not to touch you lest he overwhelm you right now. "Hey love, you would like to step outside? Or maybe walk around for a bit?" He turned to McKenna "You can handle it here for a bit, yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah, go take a breather"

You nod in return, gaze not focusing on him yet. "Uh, yeah, yeah can we step outside" you grab your purse.

You took Steven's hand, not caring if it was too bold. You had been really scared, and he made you feel safe.

"Stevie!" Donna had bellowed as he guided you past the gift shop. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"Having a smoke break, Donna!" He called out.

"You don't smoke!"

"Let me have this, or I'll start" He threatened, looking at Donna challengingly. When she didn't argue, he continued "Right then, cheers" and took you outside to breath. "Hey there, are you-" But he was cut off with a strong hug and quit cries. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling your chest rise and fall in his arms. He didn't speak, merely opting to rub your back appropriately high and allow you to cry to out.

When you pulled back, sniffling, you realized how gross and wet his t-shirt sleeve had gotten. "oh god, I'm sorry Steven" You said, looking defeated in a way he had never seen you, usually so alight with excitement and in love with life.

"Huh?" He looked at the tear covered sleep that may or may have snot on it. "Oh, please, don't worry about that, I didn't even like this shirt" it was his favorite, but that didn't matter.

You were mumbling fuck and shit and goddammit into your purse as you dug through, getting tissues and blowing your nose before using the clean ones to wipe off his shirt as best you could. "Bloody hell, I'm fucking disgusting" you say to yourself more than anything as you frantically try to clean him.

Steven grabs your hand "Darling, no, you aren't disgusting" He catches and holds your gaze for the first time that day. "You just had a scary time, that man was horrible, and I hope he forgets to put his seat down on the toilet, then wakes up in the middle of the night to shit and falls in."

Finally, you laugh and grace him with the smile he loved so much. "That's... a bit out of pocket"

"Yeah" He breaths out a laugh, shrugging a bit, nervously.

"Here" You take off your oversized jacket and hand it to him.

"Oh! No love, it's fine-"

"Steven, my snot is on your sleeve, please allow me this little bit of dignity"

Steven graciously accepts the jacket, and you can help smile at how cute he looks with Baby Yoda on the breast pocket. Having felt pain in your arm when you took the jacket off, you pull up the sleeve to find bruises forming on your arm, and wince.

Steven took your arm in a carful hold, frowning deeply as he examined it Hijo de puta I'll fucking kill him "Bastard's banned, I'll have JB pull up the security camera footage, he won't be allowed back after this"

You wipe tears from your eyes with your arm, and try to explain yourself. "I... know that was a bit of a, erm, an overreaction" you sniffle. "There's been guys who... well I've been in some scary situations... um..." you hesitate to open up about that part of your life.

Steven sensed your discomfort. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to" You smile. You weren't ready for that yet, but you knew he'd listen if you were. He continues, justifying your reaction for you. "I would be scared too, if someone did that too me. He hurt you, love. And the song that was playing, that was Linkin Park, yeah? That song that always upsets you? I'm certain that didn't help"

You pause at that. "Since when do you listen to Linkin Park? Since when do you even listen to music?"

Steven looked like he had been caught. "Oh... uh... Well, since you told me they were your favorite band, I suppose. Can't say I understand all the appeal, but I've found some I liked." He said shyly, knowing he was letting the cat out of the bag.

You blink at him, eye wide with disbelief. "You... you listened to my favorite band?"

Steven cocked his head to the side a bit. "Bands. I've listened to several you mentioned. I've found I rather like Panic! At the Disco, which I didn't see coming"

You burst out in a laugh and wide grin. "Steven, do you have any plans tonight?" You ask, taking his hand.

Say something smooth, this is your chance.

"Um... yeah, I'm cooking dinner for my pretty coworker" Steven smiled nervously, brown curls falling in his face.

You beam at him, leaning into his shoulder as you walk back inside. As you walk through the doors, you clarify. "The coworker is me, right?"

"There's no one else I'd rather spend the evening with"

***************

I know this was incredibly self-indulgent but I hope ya'll liked it anyway. When this happened, I had to deal with it alone, but after work I walked home with this coworker I had a crush on (he lived a block away so he always walked me home) and he saw I was upset after what happened so he asked me to explain star wars to him.

me "uh, like, what about it?"

him "I know the basics of the origenals, tell me the plot of the movies"

"which ones?"

"all of them"

"theres nine movies"

"and i wanna hear about all of them"

Even after we got to my apartment he sat outside with me as I finished explaining 8 and 9, and he activily participated and pretended to be invested, which significantly distracted me from the triggering even of the man at work grabbing me. I wanted to marry him so bad but I had to move out of that living situation XD so i left the state

Also: my birthday is July 20th. linkin park is my favorite band, which means on July 20, 2017 I woke up to the news that Chester Bennington had died on the birthday I shared with chesters friend and another artist i loved, chris cornell, who had killed himself earlier that year. it took years before I was able to properly celebrate my birthdy instead of mourning. I always find a way to remember chester and chris every year thought, an honor their memories.

anyway, hope you Steven girlies liked this! I think Ima drop another super short drabble tonight too, bc im going through it right now lol.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @welcometostayingawake @in-between-the-cafes @lucianadraven32 @milkymoon2483 @ahookedheroespureheart

[daniigh0ul]

we're back in business, BABY!

prev || next || chrono

quick lore: my headcanon is werewolves often shorten the name to 'wolves' when talking about themselves. it usually depends on how comfortable they are with their condition, and who they're talking to, though.

Diego comes home from school to see his dad teaching Bianca how to howl and things escalate from there.

Hector howling. Bianca howling. DIEGO: What the fuck, Dad? BIANCA: Ooh, you swore ~ HECTOR: Watch your mouth. I'm preparing your sister for life. She needs to learn how to be a wolf. BIANCA: Yeah! Don't tell me what to do. HECTOR: Go play, mija. Diego, where's your pride? Be proud of who you are. DIEGO: There's no pride in being cursed, Dad. HECTOR (stricken): You are talking like your mother. DIEGO: Maybe she was right! Maybe I should join the Moonwood Collective! HECTOR: I spit on Volkov's legacy and everything he stands for! DIEGO: Oh, yeah! Because starting fights and peeing in bushes is so civilized!? HECTOR: Get out of my face. DIEGO: FINE.

The door slams shut. HECTOR: Dammit. BIANCA: Ooh, you swore, Daddy!

[witchofthesouls]

I got way too many ideas, and now they're performing crossovers:

Like Do as the Romans had Done getting zapped into G1.

June: There is no such thing as the perfect man.

G1 Optimus making puns and being sweet with the kids when their Optimus and Smokescreen are handling new active hotspots that may be their ticket home.

June: Dammit.

June's internal struggle with G1 OP because she's has to deal the intimate knowledge she banged his alternative self and knows the sight, taste, and feeling of his dick as well as how sensitive his audials are.

Cyber!Earth inhabitants - newly transformed, acquired, and/or conquered - appearing in the Bayverse!AU where Mikaela is a Dragon.

Bayverse (Autobots, United States military, and the Foundation) is flipping out because of the active Titan. But said Titan refuses to budge away from the shores of Diego Garcia base, much less let anyone else into its space of its city-mode.

It's gonna be awkward for Bayverse!Optimus since he's a Prime of Prima's spark-lineage, and Titan doesn't like that particular Prime.

Diego Garcia will become quite a hotspot because not only does it host space alien refugees and the first Dragon in several ages, but a living city and quite a few active practitioners and alchemists.

The confusion by Cyber!Earth inhabitants have with Bayverse since their Earth is terrifyingly different: these oceans have limits? There are no catastrophic storms or immense whirlpools? Where are the towering forests of semi-sentient trees and the deserts filled with ghostly spirits? The cities here are bustling alive with millions and not empty hellscapes of metal and winter? Plus, them trying to hash out the existing agreements by the other Primes with the Bayverse!Autobots.

More Other!TFP!Humanformers and G1 because I totally imagine Miko, the tiny War-Forged Seeker sparkling she is, would try her damn best to take a huge bite out of a Quintesson if it ever showed its tentacles and five-faces in that verse.

The June-is-Megatronus!AU meets Bayverse: a moment where she accidentally transports herself, injured Optimus, and Smokescreen to Diego Garcia.

The Hammer is still functional because June picked up some things Ratchet... and then through caution to wind by hooking up her own systems and cabling into Optimus and basically jumpstarted him like a living battery, spark to spark. (TFP!Ratchet would be yelling at her. Bayverse! definitely done so)

TFP!Optimus is having some weird visions by the Matrix, June goes into a trance and walks into the sea with no notice, and Smokescreen is Smokescreen.

Optimus vomits salt water and cockles and aquatic life as June hauls out a revived Jazz... who then stabs her out of reflex and she freezes the mech out of defense.

Now, there are multiple people having a meltdown or a crisis, but June has an idea (a dangerous and ridiculous one) on how to get back to their universe.

[lambourngb]

six sentence sunday

so even though I have 203 wips, I signed up for kinktober on FighterTown. Only a 100 words, sure I can write something short... but then I was given prostitution as my prompt. Listen, I know all the fucked up parts of sex work, the power dynamic is fucked, even in places where it's legal... that said, but I'm also a gremlin fic reader, so I just had to write a Pretty Woman AU for IceMav.

The window slowly went down, the driver was leaning across the front interior to pump the handle. Incredible. The car was probably one of the most expensive to ever be produced but it apparently lacked power windows. “Hey-”

Ice pasted a smile on his face, and leaned down at the stranger’s call, letting his shirt billow open for the driver to see his whole chest down to the dark furrow of hair at his belt buckle. “Hello,” he purred back, peering into the low set sport scar. He had expected the driver to be someone recognizably famous or someone old with money, but neither turned out to be true. 

He was around the same age, or slightly younger to Ice’s eye, with dark messy hair and sparkling green eyes. The smile he shot at Ice was crooked, and there was the faintest bump that spoke of an old healed nose fracture. Those mild imperfections  only highlighted the perfect symmetry of his cheekbones and the white-flash of his grin. In one word, though, he was gorgeous.

When Ice had first started in this type of work, he had to learn to separate his desire for men from the act, because beggars could not be choosers when it came to johns, literally. It was a job, and most people did not enjoy their jobs, broadly speaking. Of course, he had to push down the recent memory of being in the Navy, because god dammit he had loved what he did back then, even if he didn’t love the rules that had governed his behavior. Still. That life was over, and now he was used to turning a blind eye to soft white middle-aged bellies, and hairy backs, ignoring the bad breath and then imperfect skin. It was a job, he reminded himself, and not every job was pleasant.

This guy on the other hand- he was the furthest thing from what Ice had conditioned himself to accept. With one look, an old, neglected part of Ice perked up, something he belatedly recognized as genuine attraction. The stranger was dangerous.

“I was hoping you could help me-”

Ice lifted one eyebrow at the stranger, “I’m at your….service.” For once it didn’t feel like a line.

“So I’m lost,” the stranger explained with a boyish grin, gesturing around the dim neighborhood. Ice lifted his eyebrow a little higher at him because that had been a line offered a time or two from a nervous first-timer. “I’m trying to find the La Abber-barrage? Or maybe it’s aubergine? That’s a color, right?”

He had to wince at the poor pronunciation, the stranger clearly did not know French any more than he knew how to drive a manual shift supercar. “Do you mean the L’Auberge? The hotel?”

“Shit, that’s it! How do you say it again?”

“L’Auberge,” He repeated slowly, the years of studying French and his air carrier duty near the old colonial holdings in the South Pacific came back with ease. “It’s not a color, it means hotel or inn in French. You’re very lost then,” The handsome man waited for an explanation, looking adorably befuddled by the information, until Ice continued, “You’re in San Diego now. You’re trying to find the L’Auberge Del Mar, which is in… Del Mar.”

[thisshitmakesmyassitch]

"Lock the door behind me," Five said harshly, checking the clip of his gun as his eyes frantically scanned the frosted glass of the office they were barricaded into.

"You can't seriously be thinking about going out there," Diego replied, his eyes glazing over with discomfort as he watched his brother tighten a strip of torn jacket around his forearm.

Their youngest-oldest brother had always been so insistent on protecting them, and now he knew why... and now Five was horrifically injured because they were too arrogant to listen to him.

How many times has he gone through this? How many times has their youngest-oldest brother fought tooth and nail on the brink of death just for them?... And how many times have they berated and insulted him as he suffered like this?…

But for once... the Five turned to them and smiled almost sadly... as if he knew his fate already... and Diego’s blood ran cold.

"Let us help you dammit, we're supposed to be-"

"Family. I know," Five cut him off steadily, causing his siblings to falter, "and thats why Im doing this."

Five passed Diego a loaded gun, primed and ready... Their eyes locked, his filled with an old sadness and a tired regret...

"You shoot anyone that comes through that door that isnt me, got it?"

"Five, you cant!-"

"*Do you understand?*"

Diego paused… he knew that look. And he couldn’t win this argument no matter how much he tried.

"...Yea. Knock em dead..."

Five just smiled. A wicked smile that had seen so much agony over the years. That had enjoyed it no matter how much he may deny it.

"Oh I intend to.”