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Hatori said, “That looks exactly like me! That’s literally me!!”

Me: …debatable 😅

At the end of my head practice, I looked at the last one and thought, “Handsome guy, who are you??” 😭

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #artists on tumblr #hatori nozomu #handsomestranger

Walking into a bar, I dropped my purse and a pill bottle for my anxiety fell out. A man walking in at the same time i was bent over grabbing the bottle and handing it back to me as I lifted my purse back over my shoulder. “Well that’s embarrassing” I smirked as I put the bottle back to my purse. “Well, we all have our days right?” “Yeah.. I guess your right.” I’m Devin”, he introduced himself as he held out his hand. I smiled back at him shaking his hand. “Peyton.” “Hey, I dont mean to be forward but, can I buy you a drink?” he asked. “I’ve never been one to turn down booze after a long day.”

Devin: So whats your story?

Peyton: I dont have one. Whats yours?

Devin: I’m just a guy in a bar.

Peyton: and im just a girl in a bar.

Devin: Simplicity. I like it.

Peyton: simplicity is all i have left...

Devin: I hear you. cheers to simplicity And being just two people in a bar. (raises glass)

Peyton: (raises glass) To simplicity. (Puts drink down and stares into glass sadly)

Devin: Whats on your mind?

Peyton: Do you ever feel like you dont belong? Like your destined to be somewhere else?

Devin: Everyday.

Peyton: I havent felt like I belonged anywhere in a very long time.

Devin: I know exactly what you mean...

Peyton: Sometimes, I just wish I could disappear for just a night.

Devin: This may sound crazy...But uhhhh... Would you be interested in belonging for just a night? I travel, so I have a room?

Peyton: You know, anything sounds better than sobbing into my drink for just one night.

#sims3 #ultimatesimmers #peyton #peytontaylor #handsomestranger #man #drinking #onenight #bar #twopeopleinabar #findingcarson #.

Ink doodle #inksketch #inkart #sketch #doodle #victorian #handsomestranger #possiblydracula

#sketch #doodle #handsomestranger #inksketch #victorian #possiblydracula #inkart

Handsome Stranger pt 5

Hello! Here is the 5th chapter to Handsome Stranger. I apologize it took so long, as grown-up responsibilities always get in my way. I hope you enjoy it, and PLEASE give me as MUCH feedback as possible. I appreciate you taking the time to read it! (sorry no smut in this one, disappointing I know) As always, like, reblog, and follow (I always follow back). xo kait

Read parts 1 through 4 here:

Chapter 1 - Mr. Green Eyes Chapter 2 - A Gentleman of Sorts Chapter 3 - Meet Me At The Crossroads Chapter 4 - Deals With The Devil

Warnings: some language

Chapter 5 - Dirty Little Secret

“Who she is, is none of your damn business, Crowley.” Dean instinctively steps in front of you, shielding you from Crowley’s sight. That safe fuzzy feeling washes over you again. Crowley smirks and starts to walk towards Dean. Your hands grab fistfuls of Dean’s jacket. “Of course it’s my business! There has to be a reason why you had your feathered friend over here, searching high and low for me.” Crowley sticks his hands in his suit pocket, looking satisfied. “Judging by the way you’re trying to protect this little bitch, I assume you need me to call off her contract.” You can feel Dean tense with rage, and even your fists full of his jacket can’t keep him in place. In a blinding blur, Dean pulls a pistol from his back pocket and fires it at Crowley. It strikes him right in the chest, and you can’t help but scream. Sam looks from you to Cas, and your eyes are wide with fear. Sam nods to you, silently ensuring you that Dean knows what he’s doing. With a satisfied grin on his face, Dean separates himself from you and walks toward Crowley. Crowley looks pissed. “Devil’s Trap bullet.” Dean says, matter of factly. “You’re not going anywhere.” Crowley sighs, and looks at the ground. “If you wanted something from me Squirrel, you could have just asked nicely.” Seeing the pure rage on Dean’s face, Sam intervenes. “Cut the crap, Crowley. We need you to get rid of the contract out on Y/N.” Sam says, stepping between Dean and Crowley, his 6’4” figure completely blocking Crowley from your view. “Sorry… no can do Moose. The contract is not mine to give up.” You grab onto Deans leather jacket again, hope dripping away from you like a melting candle. Dean barrels through Sam and grabs Crowley by the front of his suit. The anger in his eyes is fierce, and for a brief second, you see fear in them too. “What the fuck do you MEAN, you can’t revoke her contract?” Dean growls, his grip tightening on Crowley’s coat. Crowley does not back down. “I didn’t seal the contract with a kiss, lover boy. Only SHE knows who can revoke her contract,” Crowley says, pointing right at you. Dean, Sam, and Cas all turn to look at you. Dean’s face is crinkled in frustration, and you stare right into his green eyes. You want to reach out to him, hold him forever, let him know that everything will be okay. Cas, being the only quiet and level-headed person at this shit show, walks over to you and calmly places his hands on your shoulder. You look him directly in the eyes. “Y/N, is there anything you can tell me about this demon who holds your contract?” Cas’s presence immediately calms you down, even though your body is shaking. Dean walks behind you and puts his hands on your shoulders, your fear immediately leaving your body. You turn to look at Dean, sadness in his beautiful green eyes. You don’t want to make him hurt anymore. You can hardly bare it. “He had yellow eyes,” you say, looking at the ground. Dean deflates, and leans against the hood of the Impala for support. He runs his hands through his hair and looks at you. “Are you sure, Y/N?” Dean says, the crinkles by his eyes now more apparent, as he struggles to believe what he’s hearing. Sam paces in circles. Cas just looks dead ahead, his face expressionless. What have you done? The only thing you can do is give a little nod. There is silence among the group, for what feels like eternity. “Sounds like your old friend has come back around to say hello.” Crowley says, breaking the silence, tapping his foot on the pavement and cackling. Dean is up from the hood of the Impala and to Crowley in record time. He punches Crowley square in the cheek, blood spattering out of the side of his mouth. Old friend? This is getting out of hand… “Dean!” Sam yells, grabbing Dean by the elbow, as Dean threatens to throw another blow. “Do you think this is funny?!” Dean screams in Crowley’s face. Your whole body shudders. “Where is Azazel, Crowley?!” He cocks his arm back, but Sam doesn’t allow him to make contact with Crowley’s face. It’s now or never, Y/N. Speak the fuck up, woman the fuck up. “WAIT!” you yell, running over to Dean. Dean looks at you, so much love in his eyes. All he wants to do is protect you, and it’s written all over his face. “I know where we can find him!” It comes out of your mouth in a garbled mush. You can feel all four sets of eyes staring at you, tears welling up in your ducts. Dean rips the devil’s trap bullet right from Crowley’s chest, and Crowley disappears into thin air. Dean grabs your shoulders and looks right into your eyes, determination etched all over his face. “Tell me where we can find that son of a bitch, Y/N.”

Handsome Stranger pt 2

I’m having a really fun time with this and I can’t seem to stop writing. As I mentioned before, this is my very first fic. Please feel free to give me feedback, like/reblog/follow. Chapter 3 will be finished very soon. I hope you enjoy! xo kait

Warning: Language, and eventual smut.

Chapter 2 - A Gentleman of Sorts

The bounce and lull of Dean carrying you is making you sleepy. His voice startles you back to reality, and you jolt.

“Y/N, I’m gonna need you to stand up for me for two seconds so I can open the door. You think you can do that?” He says it in such a demanding tone but, for some reason, you don’t mind. You can hear the care in his voice too. It’s a small comfort for your already jumbled, drunk brain.

“Yes,” you reply, quietly. “I think so.” Now you’re suddenly exhausted, dehydrated. Fucking tequila.

Dean gently plants you on your feet and leans you against his car. You start to gain your balance and watch him open the door. You realize that you haven’t really assessed this stranger, until now. He’s about 6’, give or take, strong jawed, and fucking dangerous. Then you notice what you’re leaning up against.

“'67 Impala, huh? I took you for a Mustang kinda guy.” you say, running your fingers on the cold, black surface. Dean laughs from the inside of the car, shuffling around old fast food bags. He finishes cleaning a spot just for you, and comes out of the passenger side.

“Mustang?” He’s awfully close to you now. So close you can feel the heat of his breath. “That’s an insult to Baby.”

Did this rugged, god-like creature just call his Impala, Baby? And why did hearing the word baby come out of his mouth give you head-to-toe goosebumps?

Dean effortlessly scoops you up again, and sits you neatly on the passenger side seat, and even buckles you in. He gets in the drivers side and starts the Impala. He turns to you, and there’s those green eyes again. “And where will I be taking you tonight, Y/N?”

Your stomach flip-flops, and you feel nauseous. You don’t know this man from Adam, and you’re about to tell him where you lay your head at night. “Stagecoach Inn, on 3rd and Elm.” It spews out of your mouth like word vomit. Damn you, Jose Cuervo. “Please,” you add.

Dean smiles with teeth for the first time and your soul exits your body. He is perfect, and you know that isn’t possible. No one is perfect. Everyone has their demons, including you.

You must have fallen asleep and don’t remember. You open your eyes and stare at the dark ceiling. Still somewhat drunk, you have no idea where you are. This is not your motel room. What time is it? Panic sets in. KNIFE. NOW.

You sit straight up and fumble for the light, your cell phone, anything. You find your backpack at the edge of the bed and scramble to retrieve your blade. It’s not there. What the fuck is going on?

Suddenly, a lamp near you turns on and floods the room with light. Standing two feet away from you is the handsome stranger, Dean, and he’s holding your blade.

“Now why would a pretty little thing like you have something as ugly and dangerous as this?“ He quips, twirling it around in his hands. That same sexy smirk smeared across his face. He’s handled weapons before, you can tell. Your judgement is suddenly as clear as its been in hours.

“Hey,” you say, with a hand on your hip. “That’s an insult to MY Baby.”

Dean barrel laughs now, holding his side. He puts your knife down on the end table and sits next to where you’re standing, on the edge of the bed. He’s bold, confident. How did you not realize this before? This man is a hunter.