#is it shit yes but it’s 4K!!! WHICH IS SO MUCH MORE THAN IVE BEEN WRITING LATELY

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagine #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin imagine #snk imagine #writing

[semi-imaginary-place]

who's this dude again?

oooh boy more cultists dont tell me he's part of it tooo.

oh. the dad's dead isnt he. that or kidnaped

ye cultists.

yeah explored whispermill earlier sure did give me cultist compound vibes. the ember wasnt that hard to get. ophilia got it without permission

found the star seer shrine. it went much better than grandpa but i still died. she healed like 20k no fair. alright tress time to take on your 5th side job.

omniscience is bullshit. also time to use all the items ive been hoarding. if this really does work i'll try gamla again wwith my new reflection technique

wow reflect can break shields. like she didnt get a chance to use any of her post 50% abilities or put on a regenmmm im already a bp heavy tram with alfyn and tressa so one of them is getting starseer and the other runelord probably (when i find it). still need cleric to beat the old man so probably alfn for now

apparently i dont learn from my mistakes since im making all the same o es as last time but not remembering until after i press the buttons.

the reflecrs were harder to set up but once i did it was ok. now to make my little nuke even stronger. ULTIMATE POWER AHAHAHAH

i keep getting winnhild down to 5% health or about 2.5 breaks but then she starts taking 6 actions a turn and then i die. #glass cannon problems. so i didnt read the fine print and apparently theres no reflect physical. i tried both buffing ally defense and lowering her attack but with 6 aoes a turn im still dying. i'll... come back to this. (lit she's 2 cyrus attacks (no break) away from dying but she only need 1 turn to wipe the party) therion is doing very well since he's got like 700 evasion but everyone else is dying. also i love her battle sprite my fav in the game so far.

hah yes the knight of ardante of the church are headquartered as far away from any churches as possible. makes total sensf

wohoo got runelord on my first try.

i have to grind for a sword drop?? oooh tressa tge things you make me do

back to winnhild. holy shit tressa did a puny 90 damage but then the rune did 9999. i also gave cyrus a better staff so hes doing 4k more per action (no break or boost). so just skipped winnhilds 2nd and 3rd phases!

i might try out surpassing power on tressa just to see how much she really hits for. im only occassionally seeing high numbers on cyrus so i might swap it off of him. with the new 3 hit spells its ike 3 hits of 8-9k each so supassing power isnt really needed. i was thinking. well ok so i build my team based on who i like best not which team is mechanically best and money i base it on looting. so its haanit, alfyn, cyrus, and tressa which means i dont have a good buffer. cyrus and tressa uses to do some biffing but theyre now sorcerer and rune blade. i like big numbers so haanit was always going to be warmaster. starsrer doesnt really add much to alfyn tho since i spent most turns concocting bp+2 for the whole party. i considered giving alfn runeblade and tressa starseer. i got starseer first and tressa was doibg great with it the main thing is that merchant already overlaps a lot of weapon and element types with starseer and same with apothacary and runeblade. of course if i were to try and make the best team possible and make the biggest booms i might add primrose as starseer to the team so she could do offensive buffs and save cyrus and haanit a skill slot. with the way runeblade is best with many hits per turn haanit could actually work well except i want big number so warmaster it is. otherwise i could have alfyn as warmaster, haanit as runeblade and tressa as starseer. .

#octopath traveler

[ditch-witches]

Eyeliner II (Dean-Charles Chapman Smut)

thank you to the darling @chokopieeater​ for the gorgeous moodboard. i love you

(PART ONE)

requested: yes/no (I am but y'all's humble servant.)

pairing: band member!Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: smut shit, lots of filler crap as well

word count: 4k (º-º)

a/n: I just wanna thank my girl, Iv, again and that superior 5sos album for getting me through this.

After your first date, you and Dean became inseparable, quickly falling head over heels into your relationship. It had gotten to the point where even when you weren’t with him, he was always on your mind. Little things reminded you of him like the incessant pencil tapping or pen clicking from the guy sitting beside you during lab or your green sweater that he always seems to compliment and can’t stop touching whenever you wear it.

You could be gone for hours on end, not intentionally, but because of Dean’s shitty car. You didn’t know what make or model but it was some kind of Frankenstein’s motor-monster and you never complained about it. Most of the time it had a mind of its own, and Dean had made it his mission in life to tango with its independence from him. There would be times when he’d be driving the two of you to a movie or dinner---the both of you attempting to talk over the loud radio that had only two volumes: ear rape and silent---when it would just sputter out and die, leaving the two of you to walk towards the next town over in hopes of finding a gas station. In complete honesty, you enjoyed the car. It gave you more time with Dean, who never seemed to get frustrated at it. Whenever it did break down, you always expected to look over and see him red in the face, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, but instead you received a shrug and him holding his hand out to help you out of the piece of shit. That was another thing, the passenger side door was stuck shut so you had gotten pretty good at slipping in and out of the window. Dean claimed it was because the car was meant to race; “a stallion” to be more specific.

You knew the door was just rusted shut.

When you weren’t pushing the stallion to the nearest auto parts store on a Friday night, you and Dean found yourselves cooped up in one of your apartments or out with a group. Your friend still insisted on going to each of the band’s shows, which you really didn’t mind anymore, especially since you got to experience Dean’s confidence on stage being the one that mirrors his confidence in the bedroom. Your friend knew you and Dean had gone out a few times, but you were positive she wasn’t aware of just how much the two of you were together. And that you were thankful of, knowing full well she would blow everything completely out of proportion and make you think too much about having him around.

One day, when your late afternoon classes were canceled due to the professor’s spontaneous trips to Israel, you had the perfect opportunity to tangle yourself up with Dean. The warm glow in the room mixed with your after sex bliss as Dean lazily strummed a guitar (often finding ways to catch your attention with old riffs from The Cure, his favorite being Lovesong), propped up on the window seat tucked in the corner beside his bed. His curls, rather wild and untamed from the lack of hair product and working from your fingers. His eyes seeming brighter as the light from outside drew lines across his face. You twisted in his comforter to stretch your back as you watched him furrow his brows in an attempt at pulling chords from his memory and matching them with others.

You could prop your chin in your hand and listen to him hum slightly, in his own little world, until the end of time if you were given the opportunity. His voice was always slightly raspier, especially in moments like this. His acoustic versions, especially of the Cure, had become your favorite, mainly because you knew they were just for your ears and something about having such intimate gifts from him made your moods fuzzy and soft. The first time you stayed over, you were surprised there hadn’t been sheet music thrown about, expecting to find it shoved in awkward hiding spots of his room, but it was mainly on the window seat, where he usually played, or his desk on the other side of the room. You loved seeing him finally getting something he was happy with or constructing a lyric he liked and feverishly looking for clean space in his notebook to write it down before he forgot and it was gone forever. He seemed to have been writing a lot lately.

“Did you ever play an instrument?” He asked, his eyes darting up to look at you through his long eyelashes as he threw the notebook and pencil on the ground next to him. “I mean, besides in marching band.”

You snorted at his question. “Oh gosh. You’re gonna make fun of me,” you quipped.

“I thought that’s what we did, gorgeous?” He answered with a smug look on his face. “Come on, tell me.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I used to be really into the Dixie Chicks, so I learned how to play the banjo.”

He laughed in disbelief. “No.”

“Yes,” you nodded, wincing slightly.

He giggled. “Wait,” he wet his lips and sat up slightly, beginning to strum an all too familiar song. “You’re going to have to help me with the words.”

“Dean, stop-”

“CoWbOy, TAKE ME AWAY-” You bolted from his bed and took the guitar from him as he giggled, grinning at you like an idiot. You took a seat across from him, tucking one of your ankles under your leg and shivering slightly, only Dean’s t-shirt and your shorts to keep you warm after being bundled up for so long. You rested the guitar in your lap and Dean crossed his legs, scooting closer to you.

“Never do that again,” you grumbled and he laughed again, lacing his fingers together. “Since you always play for me…” You strummed your hand across the wires, the instrument feeling more foreign than when you picked up a flute last year for the first time since high school. You chuckled shortly, “I’m a little rusty.” Dean couldn’t help but beam as you blushed mildly, beginning to play what you could remember of I Believe in Love’s chorus. As you sang lightly, trying not to seem like you were putting much effort behind what you were doing, you caught his gaze and he inhaled rather sharply, his eyes dancing with softness as he watched you. You smirked slightly as he watched you closely, seemingly loving every second of your short song, physically gushing as he usually bright smile eased blissfully. You finished, looking at him with a sarcastic, “Taddah.”

He leaned forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to close the space between you, searing the moment into your memory with a kiss you could feel in your toes. He always kissed you like everything was relying on the way he did it. With Dean, every kiss mattered, but this kiss seemed to encompass everything he wanted to say. The sweet taste of your vanilla chapstick blended with the smell of his cologne as his warm breath flared over your cheek. You sighed against his lips moving your hands into his hair and relishing his actions.

You don’t remember getting home that night, but as you damn near floated into your apartment, you figured not even your essay due the next day could ruin your mood. Of course, that was until you realized your friend had gotten home before you and was standing in the kitchen with a juice box. Your eyes went slightly wide at the shock and she tilted her head. “Where’ve you been?” Her smirk meant she knew exactly where you were.

You shrugged slightly, “Studying. I had the afternoon off.”

“It’s seven.”

“...Right…” Your eyes darted around the room.

She bit back a wider grin before moving around the counter towards you. “Must have gotten a lot of homework done then. What subject? Anatomy?” You rolled your eyes at her joke and she pulled you into a hug, fully welcoming you home before leaning back from you quickly. You looked at her with furrowed brows and she narrowed her eyes. “You smell familiar…”

You chuckled. “Am I not supposed to?”

“No, you smell familiar, but not like you. You smell like Dean.” You pursed your lips together, looking at her like she was crazy. “Dean’s still the one you’re sneaking around with!” Her expression flipped on a dime to excitement and she giggled. “I KNEW IT.”

“STOP.”

“Jeez, that’s why he’s so happy. I mean, more than usual.” You sighed as she continued. “God it totally makes sense though. That why he ALWAYS LOOKS AT YOU LIKE HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU-”

“QUIT. HE’S NOT IN LOVE WITH ME.”

“Dean wants to marry you. He wants to kiss you. He wants to lOooVe you,” she teased, dancing slightly to her own song. You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb. “How is your boyfriend, anyway? I’m assuming that’s where you were today.” You threw your bag down on one of the kitchen chairs.

“He’s not my boyfriend, cut it out,” you grumbled.

“Sure seems like it. You blush every time I say his name,” she jeered, her voice still sing-songy as she moved back into the kitchen.

The fact that Dean wasn’t your boyfriend seemed to echo through your mind until his next show, which happened to be in a much larger venue. You weren’t sure how you felt about coming to the realization that the two of you had never really set a label. Did you even want a label? The two of you hadn’t really been keeping your relationship private, but maybe it was for a bigger reason that you had given thought to. You and your little sidekick in the shape of your best friend made your way to the venue, her almost tripping over her shoes a few times with excitement. There weren’t any seats, in fact, the place reminded you of a warehouse and it made complete sense having been set up by the bassist and the drummer when Dean and the other guitar player just had to trust the guys. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that it was incredibly packed. A sense of pride rushed through you, proud of the band slowly climbing the ladder yet still keeping it fun. You also knew Dean would be feeding off this high for at least a week after the show.

Your friend dragged you to the front by the tight grip she had on your arm, landing the two of you in almost the front row. The people around you smelled like beer and were already cheering and yelling, making you laugh slightly. Anytime college kids had the opportunity to throw each other around to punk music, they would. Your friend smiled at her phone before clicking it off and shoving it in her pocket, looking over the crowd and waving her arm in the air. You furrowed your brows, attempting to see who or what she was trying to wave down. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she commented, biting back a grin and putting her arm down. You shook your head at her and someone came around you to pull her into his arms. She giggled wildly as he kissed her. You recognized him as the drummer. The two had been very vocal about their whereabouts after she had given him her number. Dean was at your side, giving your arm a nudge and furrowing his brows at the two, probably mimicking your expression. “What are you guys doing out here?” She asked, through a bright smile. You scoffed like she didn’t just wave them down.

“Relax, no one knows it’s us,” Dean joked from beside you. “They came for the booze.” He seemed oddly calm for such a big event, but there was something off about him. The two laughed at him before joining in their own conversation. Dean leaned closer to your ear, “Can we go somewhere?” You nodded and followed him away from the crowd and towards the backstage area before turning towards a bathroom. You looked around the space, it was disgusting but you didn’t mind.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. There was definitely something wrong. Was he nervous? “Are you okay?” His usually bright face was smothered with slight worry. You could tell he wanted to reach out to you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He bit his lip. “I don’t know, you’ve gotten weird… Did I do something?”

You scoffed, shaking your head quickly. “No, I just…” You ran a hand through your hair and he watched you closely, the same look flashing behind his eyes as when you were playing for him. “She found out about us and,” you shrugged, “it just got me thinking.”

Dean fought against his smirk as he took a step towards you. “That’s never a good thing, love,” he joked, making the tension lighten. “What were you thinking about?”

You scoffed. “It’s not really a big deal-”

His eyebrows picked up. “Quit.”

“Did I become a groupie?” You asked, a smile playing on your lips, causing him to give into his grin. You hated to do this before his show, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“Are you also fucking the other guys?” He sarcastically quizzed, his arms finally moving to rest on your shoulders before sliding down so his hands settled on your neck, the cool metal of his rings bringing enticing goosebumps to litter your skin. You looked up at him, quietly wishing you could take him home around this time. Damn, were you really this whipped?

“I mean, the bass guy has been looking awfully yummy lately…” You mocked, your eyes dancing between his lips and his bright blue eyes. He chuckled at your answer.

“Do you wanna be just a groupie?” He asked in more of a whisper.

You were surprised as your tone matched his. “No…”

“Fine, can I be your boyfriend?” He smiled into his question and your gaze snapped to his. “I wanna be your fucking boyfriend, okay.” His tone was so light you couldn’t help but laugh.

His thumb brushed against your jaw, making you melt. “Good.” You grabbed onto the front of his jacket, finally bringing his lips to yours. You made sure this kiss counted more than all your previous ones for him. You could practically taste the relief pulsing through him as his hands moved into your hand. The noise around you died away as you stood on your toes, feet fitting between his sneakers to bring him closer to your body.

He pulled away rather reluctantly, pressing his lips against yours a few times between attempting to talk to you. “I have to quit before I get carried away,” he groaned, kissing your cheek and jaw.

You chuckled. “Promise to get carried away later then?”

“I swear on my life,” he practically growled in your ear. He was back to being Dean again. He pulled away to look you in the eye. “You are so beautiful, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him away from you. He giggled. “Alright, go get on stage, lover boy.”

He leaned forward to kiss you briefly again before beginning to back out of the bathroom. “To be clear, I’m not going because you told me to. I’m going because I have to, okay?” He joked.

“Dean.” He sent you one last wink before slipping out the door, leaving you to finally grin like an idiot in peace. You joined your friend’s side again and the look she gave you was more than all-knowing as you shook your head at her again. As the band took to the stage, the crowd roared with excitement. Dean was wrong. They had come for them. Maybe it was Dean’s accent because each time he attempted to talk or swore during a song, the girls in the crowd would scream their heads off.

There was something about Dean’s performance tonight that was different for you. Maybe it was the rise he was getting out of everyone and the fact that he was going home with you. You bobbed to the music slightly, your mind flashing to the afternoons with Dean. The grungy man before you, eyeliner smudging from the heat of the lights and exertion of adrenaline, looked different and oozed with confidence that was somehow even more attractive to you now, but when he would grin at one of his bandmates or a sign in the crowd, he was exactly the same. He had made sure to find you in the crowd rather quickly, sending you flirty smirks and a wink every so often. God, he really knew what he was doing. There were times during the set when the bassist would introduce the next song as Dean would take a sip of beer or a puff of the guitarist’s cigarette and the girls behind you would make a comment about being jealous of whatever his lips had touched, making you laugh slightly---a fact you would have told him if you hadn’t known he would bring it up every chance he got.

After the show, the two of you barely made it up the stairs to his apartment before wrapping around each other, hungry to relieve the sexual tension between you during the show. You knew Dean was still running on performer’s high, and you were thankful. Your hands knotted in his hair as the taste of alcohol and cigarettes invaded your senses to blend with the smell of the concert on you both. Your back pressed against his bedroom door as you practically yanked his jacket off his arms, tugging his shirt over his head as he smashed his lips against yours in a disarray of teeth and hair. He slipped his hands under your shirt, pulling it off as well, his lips finding his favorite part of your neck. You moaned as his teeth clashed against your skin, his hand moving to grasp at your breast as he pressed you harder against the door. You ground your hips against him, feeling the wetness between your legs begin to pool.

You pushed off the wall, dragging him with you to the bed. As you fell back into the soft comforter, Dean climbed over you smiling before you locked your lips against his, your tongue pressing into his mouth with a neediness that he seemed to reciprocate as his fingers moved to your zipper, lightly unfastening your pants before dragging them down your thighs and over your ankles. He stood between your legs, getting ready to remove his rings. “Uh-uh,” you almost hissed, making him look up at you smugly. “Leave ‘em on.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his smirk making you melt as he hooked his arms around your thighs, his head dipping down.

“As you wish,” he divulged, his breath hot against your core before he began nipping at the skin of your inner thigh. He was in complete control as his mouth moved to press against your clothed center. You moaned slightly, a grin spreading across your face as your head tilted back, his tongue moving against you, drawing patterns as he applied pressure with it. He broke away from you sliding his hands between the fabric of your waistband and skin, your underwear soon falling to the floor. As he settled back into his previous position, you ran your fingers into his hair, pushing it off his forehead so you could fully see his eyes. He flashed you another smug look before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking slightly before slipping his middle finger into you.

“Fuck,” you hissed, your legs wanting to clamp shut around him as he began to curl his finger inside of you, moving to draw a reaction out of you with each of his actions. He flattened his tongue against your core and moved his head from side to side for more friction. You groaned again, needing more of him, which he seemed to notice as he added another digit. You could now feel the rings at the edge of your entrance, giving you a new sensation to moan over. The tension within you tightened as he continued, his tongue lapping against you, bringing you closer to the edge. “Dean, I’m close,” you almost whined, moving your hips to grind against his tongue.

He chuckled and leaned away from you, slipping his fingers into his as you leaned up to tug off his jeans. You scoffed as he connected your lips together again. “You haven’t been wearing underwear this whole time?”

He smiled into your kiss, pushing you back onto the mattress. “No one but you has to know,” he joked.

“Ew, Dean!” You giggled as he kissed your jaw and laughed at your comment. He pulled one of your legs to rest against his hip and positioned himself before you as you drug a hand through his hair. He met your gaze again and despite the fact that he still looked like his rockstar persona, the sparkle in his eye was consistent with the Dean that you would be confident in introducing to your parents one day. He reached a thumb up to brush against your cheek before kissing you softly, a sweet gesture that forced you to wrap yourself around his arms. He pressed into you, fitting against you almost too perfectly as he moaned, bringing music to your ears. He broke away from you only to settle a kiss beside your ear and against your shoulder, beginning to thrust into you. His breath fanned over your chest and you sighed in pleasure. His hand fisted the sheets beside the two of you as he ground his hips against yours. You moved beneath him wanting to find the right angle to push yourself over the edge. You tightened around him, drawing another moan out of him. If the man could be in your ear for the rest of your life, you would thank whatever higher being allowed it to happen every second you could.

He pulled your hips towards him more, driving himself deeper into you and reaching where you needed him most. “Don’t stop,” you moaned, kissing him again as he smiled. You began to feel every inch of him as he moved inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with each of his thrusts. You kissed his jaw softly, your fingers drifting to the curls at the base of his head again. Your toes curled as you finally reached your orgasm, calling out his name and feeling him release as well, riding out your pleasure. As he sank into the covers next to you, you couldn’t fight the smile playing on your lips. One of his arms jutted out to pull your back against his chest, wrapping himself around you and sighing into your hair. His lips brushed against your shoulder blade softly and you tucked into his arms more.

“Thank you for coming to my show,” he mumbled from behind you.

You smirked. “It was like pulling teeth, getting me there,” you answered sarcastically, hearing him laugh lightly.

“I meant the first time. I’m glad you didn’t end up as a groupie,” he hummed, joking rather lazily and you knew he was drifting off. You rolled your eyes with a grin, your hand moving to rest over his, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m glad, too,” you quipped, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep as well.

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[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #410

Top Ten Things to Look Forward to in 2020

Well we’re about five minutes into 2020 and already the world’s on fire, World War III is breaking out, and that rough beast Brexit is finally shuffling towards Bethlehem to be born. How crap can you get?

Fortunately – and maybe it’s still the Christmas booze talking – but I remain flushed with optimism. Yes there’s a lot of crap in the world, and the crap will keep on piling up like that Triceratops shit in Jurassic Park, but rather than dwell in filth I have decided to look to sunnier horizons. Because I believe a better world is possible, and I also believe that everyone is allowed to have some fun on their all-to-brief whirl around this mad world (apart from Boris Johnson, he’s a big racist toolbag and I hope he never has another satisfying poo in his entire life).

So with this in mind, here are the ten things I’m most looking forward to in the coming year, politics, work, and familial jobbies notwithstanding.

A Bold New Era: The Infinity Saga is complete, so what next for the MCU? It’s kind of a weird one this year, with two films – the relatively-slimmed-down Black Widow and the god-only-knows-ness of The Eternals – as well as the prospect of Disney Plus shows Falcon and Winter Soldier and the utterly-demented-looking WandaVision. I am really excited by what comes next, and the fact that we don’t know – that this could be going anywhere, Secret Invasion, Secret Wars, Galactus, the X-Men – makes it utterly enticing. Bring it on. I am ready.

Make it So: I’m sorry, Star Wars, really I am. You’ll always be my first love. And I doubt many things will match The Last Jedi in the near future. But you’ve dropped the ball a few times and, quite frankly, you don’t have Patrick Stewart on your side. Absolutely the most exciting TV show of 2020 is Star Trek: Picard, because The Next Generation is my Trek, and seeing it continued, seeing what happened next, is really super double exciting. And it happens this month, too!

Long Have I Waited: Yes, at long last, Disney Plus arrives at the end of March, and brings with it The Mandalorian, the 2019 TV show I most wanted to see. Disney Plus in general looks like being a worthwhile bet, with loads of classic shows and movies to watch, which will please my kids no end, as well as the aforementioned Marvel stuff, and – in 2021 – Big Ewan returning to the Star Wars universe in Obi-Wan. Hello there!

A Series-ous Business: I could talk about how excited I am for Halo Infinite specifically, or how I hope Fable IV might be out this Christmas too, but let’s keep it more general: Xbox Series X. I’ve been mostly very happy with my launch Xbox One these past few years, but a sexy new box that will let me play in 4K, and a slew of new games to go with it, and Game Pass, and xCloud, and Christmas at least looks like being very, very Xbox-flavoured in this house.

I Feel Pretty and Witty and Bright: I’ll always find time for Spielberg, but the fact he’s finally making a musical, and that musical is West Side Story, gives me something not Xbox-shaped to look forward to at the end of the year. But it’s not just Spielberg; there are a few musicals coming out, from the really exciting In the Heights, to Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, and the frankly-could-go-anywhere The Prom.

Wonder Women: The DCEU, or whatever we’re calling it, has not been as interesting or exciting or – frankly – good as the MCU, and I say that as someone more invested in the DC characters than their Marvel counterparts. But I’d say my most anticipated superhero movies this year belong to DC, with Wonder Woman 1984 continuing their golden goose (eagle?), and Margot Robbie hopefully being allowed to be Harley Quinn in a genuinely great movie with Birds of Prey. Female-focused fun at the flicks, more so if you include Black Widow.

Bill and Ted's Triumphant Return: Excellent! Keanu Reeves – who had a great 2019 – and Alex Winters return to their iconic roles of Ted “Theodore” Logan and Bill S. Preston in a long-awaited third movie, which hopefully will be as good we all remember the previous films to be. Hopefully with age we can add a touch of melancholy to the dumb fun, but mostly I just want the good-natured friendly vibes to continue for a new generation. Station!

Ponyville: The Next Generation: My kids love My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Hell, what am I on about; I love My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Although we’ve not seen all the episodes yet (when exactly are the final two seasons coming to Netflix/Amazon Prime?!) it is, now, officially ended. 2020 will see the debut of the successor series, My Little Pony: Pony Tails, which to my untrained eye sounds a bit like Teen Titans Go! to Friendship is Magic’s Teen Titans (if that makes sense). Regardless, I’m looking forward to seeing what the new series is like, and seeing how my kids cope with their first real franchise reboot.

Tim Nook Owns my Soul: We got a Switch for Christmas, and although the main thing I want right now is The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, the Nintendo game I’m most looking forward to this year is Animal Crossing: New Horizons. The quiet, sublime joys of Animal Crossing are perfect for whiling away quiet evenings, and the prospect of sharing a community with not just my wife but my two kids as well fills me with happiness, Tom Nook’s outrageous mortgages be damned.

Big Giant Stompy Robots: For various reasons I skipped all the usual conventions last year, but this time round the sun I’m determined to make it to TF Nation. I love TF Nation; I love being around likeminded fans. I really love it when people are more into something than me, more knowledgeable than I am; I like their enthusiasm and I like to learn. I also, of course, flippin’ love Transformers. I like to think I’ve made friends now with some of the creators whose work has meant so much to me over the years, and it’s great to catch up. And this year, Optimus Prime himself will be there in the guise of Peter Cullen. How great is that? Five-year-old me is in tears.

Well that all sounds lovely doesn’t it? For what it’s worth I couldn’t mention Doctor Who or Dracula because, well, they’ve already started, but I really think that they could end up on my “best of 2020” list at the end of the year. I wasn’t expecting too much from Who and Dracula could have gone anywhere, but really, blimmin’ ‘eck, they are both fab. What a great start to 2020! It all bodes very, very well!

Be excellent to each other!

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