drunken frat boys

Halloween (Ethan x Reader)

Summary: Things get a little out of hand at a Halloween party. Will Ethan save the day?

Warnings: yelling? drinking? idk none really. 

A/N: This was inspired by @fireflydolan ’s list of Halloween with Ethan. So everybody say thank you to her! Everyone’s a tad older in this - old enough to drink at least. Enjoy!


“Babe, what do you think?” You called from your room, putting the finishing touches on your makeup for the halloween party tonight. You, Ethan, and Grayson were all invited to a massive Halloween party. You were originally from Salem, Massachusetts, so Halloween was everybody’s favorite holiday. After you moved to L.A., you always made it a point to go home to go trick-or-treating with your little sister and see the changing New England leaves. This would be your first Halloween dating Ethan.

Ethan poked his head into your room and smiled as you finish your dramatic makeup. The two of you had a lot going on since you flew back from L.A., so you didn’t have much time to get costumes. You decided to be vampires since you could pull it off with the clothes you had and some heavy makeup. You had done Ethan’s makeup first. It was no small feat, as he could hardly sit still because he was so excited to meet some of your old friends.

“Ethan!” You had said with a giggle as he bounced in your vanity chair at your mother’s house where you were all getting ready. “Stop or I’ll poke you in the eye!” He grinned and wrapped his arms around you.

“I was gonna say something about poking you later, but even I couldn’t make that sound good, could I?” The two of you couldn’t help but laugh.

You had just put on your dramatic false eyelashes and finished the most intense cat-eyeliner you’d ever attempted. It was bold, but not clownish, just as you were hoping for.

“What do you think?” You repeated. Ethan stared down at you, his mouth slightly agape and he smiled, showing off the fake vampire fangs that took you all of 45 minutes to glue onto his teeth.

“I think you look incredibly sexy, (Y/N),” he said, wrapping his arms around you and dipping his head down to kiss your neck once, gently. It filled your stomach with butterflies, even after all this time together.

“Will you put the two bite marks on my neck?” You asked, handing him the fake blood and the paint brush you had both used to apply it. He nodded and took the things from you.

“Sure,” he replied and pulled you close. You looked at him, confused for a moment before he leaned down and bit your neck, hard enough to leave a mark.


“Ethan!” You giggled as he gripped your hips and bit your rested your hands on his chest. He nibbled and sucked at your skin, leaving a mild mark behind when he finally pulled away. He grinned at his handiwork and winked at you.

“Had to make it look believable,” he said before pecking your lips quickly.

He unscrewed the cap and used the back of the paint brush. He put a small dab of the substance from the Halloween store on the end of the brush and poked your neck, repeating again for the second time. He watched as the substance ran down your neck and blew gently on it to help it dry, as you had for him earlier. It looked pretty believable. You sat down at your vanity and looked in the mirror, fairly impressed.

“Wow, well done,” you said, looking up at him with a smile. Your fangs were already in as well. It had only taken you five minutes to put them in because you, unlike your boyfriend, could sit still. He shrugged and put the tube back down on your vanity after putting the cap back on.

“What can I say? I’m an artist,” He boasted and you can’t help but laugh as you roll your eyes and get up to change.

“You mean you’re not wearing that to the party?” He asked, frowning and sitting down in your vanity chair.

“Nahhh, I gotta find something more…vampire-ish,” you said, thumbing through your outfits, looking for something that would fit the bill. You and Ethan both knew that meant you were looking for something a little bit sexier than you normally would wear.

You smirked as Ethan became more and more excited/anxious to see what it was you were looking for. You had an idea and grabbed your leather jacket that was hanging at the front of your closet before venturing further to pull something from a drawer.

“Hmm, I think it might be over here, actually. Hey, will you go make sure Grayson is ready to leave in five minutes?” Ethan frowned, but did as he was told and went off to find his twin brother. You did Grayson’s makeup first, because he was more patient and less bouncy than Ethan and wouldn’t have bothered the two of you while you were getting ready. He was actually already downstairs watching tv with your little sister, who had just gotten back from her trick-or-treating rounds.

You pulled together your outfit, sprayed on some perfume and headed downstairs. When the boys saw you, both their mouths dropped open.

You picked out a black lace bralette, with an exaggerated silver chain necklace (you couldn’t wear a choker because of your fake bite marks), and a pair of torn black skinny jeans. You threw your leather jacket on over it, and wore a pair of spike-heeled boots. You had dark red lips and you looked -

“Amazing,” Grayson said with a smile. Even your little sister ‘ooh’ed at you. Ethan looked a little less than thrilled.

“What?” You questioned, looking at him innocently.

“Guys are gonna be all over you, (Y/N), don’t you think it’s a little much?” You gave him a look - raised an eyebrow and folded your arms over your ribs. He sighed, knowing he’d been defeated.

“Come on, Gray, let’s go,” he said, sounding a little dejected.

You grabbed your essentials from your purse and put them in your jacket pocket, zipping it up so they wouldn’t get lost.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad! We’re going to the party! We’ll be back before dawn!”

“Make it 2,” your father said from behind a newspaper. You groaned but accepted your curfew and the three of you were off.

The house the party was at was only five blocks away, so you decided to walk. Most of the youngest children had already gone home - trick-or-treating hours were winding down, and now teenagers and adults were out, enjoying the revelry and feeling like kids themselves again.

As you walked down the street, you noticed a group of drunken frat boys were eyeing the three of you, and you knew Ethan would start something, so you pulled the twins to the other side of the street and kept walking, avoiding them as best you could. You breathed a sigh of relief when they didn’t bother following you. It seemed like they had gotten the message.

The party was already in full swing once you had arrived. Lots of your friends from high school were there and you enjoyed catching up with them. Ethan and Grayson made friends with a few guys you had been close with and the party was a general success. You had more than a few drinks and so did Grayson, but you noticed Ethan was holding the same beer most of the night.

Grayson was talking to a pretty girl dressed as Princess Peach and Ethan was sitting next to you on the couch. One of your favorite songs came on and you looked back at him, an open-mouthed, half smiling expression on your face. He rolled his eyes, but smiled and took your hand, leading you out onto the makeshift dance floor.

You grinned as the two of you danced and swayed to the music. You’d had quite a few drinks by this point and you were starting to feel them, but you were still having a great time. The music rattled through your body and made your very bones vibrate as Ethan held your hips. You stayed out on the floor dancing with him and quite a few other people for a few more songs. As the latest song ended, Ethan leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna go get some water for us.” You look up at him and nod so he knows you understand, even in your drunken stupor. You look around for Grayson and see him still talking to the girl in the slutty Princess Peach costume, so you shrugged and continued to dance by yourself. It wasn’t long before you felt a pair of hands on your hips, but even in your state of haze, you knew that they weren’t Ethan’s.

You whirled around to see the same drunken frat boy from earlier that you had avoided on your way to the party. You didn’t know him, and you didn’t think you’d see him again. You attempted to pull away from him, but his grip on your waist only got tighter. You fidgeted and fussed and pulled your hands away but he kept on trying to snatch them.

You squirmed uncomfortably and called for Grayson over the jock’s voice, but the music was so loud that he couldn’t hear you. As you fought him off, you started to feel more and more upset, but you were never a weepy drunk. Anger rose from your stomach up into your head as he started saying all manner of vulgar things to you. That’s when you snapped.

“I don’t know WHO in the FRESH FUCK you think YOU are, but I am NOT going home with you!” You shouted, pushing him back with impressive force. The music turned down as you started to yell at him and people began to stare. “I am not your plaything, I am not an object, and I am NOT YOUR BABY!”

By now, the whole house could hear you, and the only person moving in the entire house was Ethan, pushing through the crowd to get to you, still flaring with rage. By the time he arrived, Grayson was at his side.

“Alright, (Y/N), that’s enough…” he tried to calm you, putting a hand on your shoulder. You immediately reached back for him and kissed him fiercely on the lips, just for a second, but long enough for everyone to see and take notice. Ethan was surprised, but he returned your kiss like he always did.

THIS is the guy that’s taking me home, and you’re lucky he showed up before I could BEAT YOUR ASS you fucking PIG!” Ethan practically dragged you out of the house, kicking and screaming. Grayson almost had to hold your legs so you wouldn’t kick any other party-goers in the face.

Outside, the fresh October air cooled your face, and you didn’t even realize how flushed and hot your cheeks were until you suddenly felt cold again. You were still fuming as you tore up the street back towards your house, the twins in toe.

“(Y/N), that was awesome,” Grayson said, trying to suppress a laugh. You did’t really acknowledge it, you just kept walking, trying to burn up the rest of your anger and frustration. Ethan still hadn’t said a word since you’d left the party.

It was almost three blocks before you calmed down and stopped to catch your balance because your buzz had caught up with you. You had tripped over your heels, but Ethan caught you, just like he always had. He sighed, sounding annoyed.

“Baby, you need to slow down before you break your ankle,” he said, helping you right yourself and keep your balance. You held onto his arm and looked up at him. Your eyes were misty and dark from all the alcohol.

“Are you mad at me?” You questioned, sniffling. “Because I swear I didn’t encourage him or anything, and Grayson couldn’t hear me over the music and -” Ethan cut you off with a smile and a laugh.

“No, baby, I’m not mad. I just wish I could’ve protected you before you had to resort to that. I always want to protect you.” He sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. You rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes, letting your arms snake around his middle.

“I know you can protect yourself, babygirl. I know that and I’m so proud of that,” he said, stroking your hair to try and calm your quiet sobs that had suddenly begun to wrack your body. You didn’t even notice them come on until he started rubbing your back over your jacket. “Like I said, I just wish it could’ve been me who told that asshole to fuck off.”

You nodded, your cheek still pressed against his chest, your heart pounding in your chest. You’d almost forgotten that Grayson was there until you heard his voice.

“For what it’s worth though, (Y/N) is scary as shit when she’s pissed off, and it was still awesome…”

After a brief pause to take in what Gray had said, the three of you broke into relieved laughter and the tension seemed to rise like steam off the ground, clearing the air. Ethan wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head. You smiled warmly at him and your arm went around his waist.

“I’m so proud of my girl,” he whispered as the two of you walked side by side, back into the night.


Be gentle. This is my first self-published imagine. Feedback is more than welcomed. I love you all.


mulder saying i love you to scully:

  • you always keep me guessing
  • you were my friend, and you told me the truth. even when the world was falling apart
  • marry me
  • you’re my one. my one in five billion.
  • you made me a whole person
  • you’re my constant, my touchstone
  • i owe you everything, scully, you owe me nothing
  • i love you

scully saying i love you to mulder:

  • shut up, mulder
  • [yells at him]
  • [calls him poopyhead]
  • [rolls her eyes]
  • i don’t believe this
  • [irritated] i do it all for you, mulder
  • mulder, when you find me dead, my desiccated corpse propped up staring lifelessly through the telescope at drunken frat boys peeing and vomiting into the gutter just know that my last thoughts were of you. and how i’d like to kill you.
  • [mulder tells her he loves her] oh brother
  • i’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly
  • [heavily implies that he is a pain in the ass to work with]
  • mulder! [whines] [follows him anyway]
White Houses || August

Fandom: Scream (MTV)
Words: 1.1k
Pairing: Emma/Audrey
Summary: A university AU in which Emma and Audrey pine over each other, everyone practically lives at Brooke’s apartment instead of their own dorms, and no one gets murdered by anyone.

It’s up! Thank you to my beta readers Amanda @kicksenselessmydefenses and Bri @explosionshark!

[Read on AO3]

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Mulder, it's me.

Happy Birthday, Dana Scully! Hope you have a fabulous day.

Sure know how to make a girl feel special on her birthday. 

I actually was thinking about, uh, this gift that you gave me for my birthday. You never got to tell me why you gave it to me or what it means, but I think I know. I think that you appreciate that there are extraordinary men and women and extraordinary moments when history leaps forward on the backs of these individuals, that what can be imagined can be achieved, that you must dare to dream, but that there’s no substitute for perseverance and hard work and teamwork because no one gets there alone.   

You don’t honestly believe this is some kind of extraterrestrial? This is somebody’s sick joke.

Agent Mulder believes we are not alone.

Are you suggesting that I go before the Violent Crime Section and present a profile declaring that these murders are done by aliens?

Then I can’t wait till you fall off and land on your ass.

Mulder, I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody but you.

Oh is that what you were extending?

Science.

Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it.

Please explain to me the scientific nature of the “whammy”.

I trust him with my life.

Mulder, are you okay?

I’m a medical doctor.

You prognosticated Buddy Holly’s death? 

Mulder, toads just fell from the sky!

Sure. Fine. Whatever.

Shut up, Mulder.

Good, because I put it back in that drawer with all those other videos that aren’t yours.

I’m not going to ask you if you just said what I think you just said, because I know it’s what you just said.

Her name is Bambi?

Smart is sexy.

I’ve heard the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers.

Do you know how much the human body is worth, Mulder?

No. How much you’re like Ahab. You’re so… consumed by your personal vengeance against life, whether it be its inherent cruelties or its mysteries, that everything takes on a warped significance to fit your megalomaniacal cosmology.

Meanwhile, I’ve quit the FBI and become a spokesperson for the Ab-Roller.

We’re going in an endless line, two steps forward and three steps back. While my own life is standing still. 

You said it yourself, once: “A dream is an answer to a question we haven’t learned how to ask.”

For the first time, I feel time like a heart beat. The seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The numinous mysteries, that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart, look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you, is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects darken for the continuance of a journey that began not so long ago. And which began again with a faith shaken and strengthened by your convictions. If not for which I might never have been so strong now as I cross to face you and look at you, incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you. 

All lies lead to the truth.

Did he have a lightsaber?

I don’t imagine you need to be told this, Mulder, but you’re not a loser.

Jeremiah was a bullfrog… Was a good friend of mine… Never understood a single word he said… But I helped him drink his wine…

Maybe if it rains sleeping bags, you’ll get lucky.

Begin autopsy on white male, age sixty, who is arguably having a worse time in Texas than I am, though not by much.

And it wasn’t even real cream cheese, it was light cream cheese! 

I was hoping for something a little more helpful.

Why did they assign me to you in the first place, Mulder? To debunk your work. To rein you in, to shut you down.

DON’T THINK! JUST PICK UP THAT PHONE AND MAKE IT HAPPEN.

Look… if I quit now, they win.

Don’t you ever just want to stop? Get out of the damn car… settle down and live something approaching a normal life?

Well, it seems to me that the best relationships - the ones that last - are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is… suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with. The storm drains are filling up. Let’s get out of here.

The blind leading the blind.

Baby me and you will be peeing through a catheter.

All right, I’m afraid. But it’s an irrational fear.

No, I mean… Maybe I did want to be out there with you.

That’s right, poopy head.

Spontaneous human combustion.

I don’t know what to believe anymore. Mulder, I was so determined to find a cure to save you that I could deny what it was that I saw and now I don’t even know… I don’t know… I don’t know what the truth is… I don’t know who to listen to. I don’t know who to trust.

Happy New Year, Mulder.

Mulder, it’s such a gorgeous day outside. Have you ever entertained the idea of trying to find life on this planet?

umm… and I didn’t say that God spoke back. I said that I had some kind of a vision.

What kind of moron gets his ya-yas out like that?

Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.

Time passes in moments … moments which, rushing past define the path of a life just as surely as they lead towards its end. How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen, to consider whether the path we take in life is our own making or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed? 

Mulder when you find me dead, my dessicated corpse propped up staring lifelessly through the telescope at drunken frat boys peeing and vomiting into the gutter, just know that my last thoughts were of you… and how I’d like to kill you.

Snake handling. I didn’t learn that in catechism class.

I guess it was too much to hope for. It was my last chance.

No, I just… I just want to get warm.

I won’t let you go alone

But, we don’t know that it was, but you don’t have a picture of it or anything.

Mulder… No no no no no sorry. Then you were frozen and I remember I hugged you until you were not frozen anymore…

I remain forever yours - Dana.

I once had a talk with Mulder about starlight. How it’s billions of years old. Stars that are now long dead whose light is still travelling through time. It won’t die, that light. Maybe that’s the only thing that never does. He said that’s where souls reside. I hope he’s right.

Oh, my God. Don’t do that to me. Do you know…? Do you have any idea what you’ve been through?

From the moment I became pregnant, I feared the truth… about how… and why. And I know that you feared it, too.

Why would I accept defeat? Why would I accept it, if you won’t? Mulder, you say that you’ve failed, but you only fail if you give up. And I know you - you can’t give up. It’s what I saw in you when we first met. It’s what made me follow you… why I’d do it all over again.

Ugh, scratchy beard!  

This stubbornness of yours, it’s why I fell in love with you.

I don’t know there’s a choice.

I’m old-school, Mulder. Pre-Google.   

I’m a doctor. You can tell me anything.

Mulder, the Internet is not good for you.

You’re bat-crap crazy!

Nobody but the FBI’s most unwanted. I’ve been waiting 23 years to say that!

Originally posted by thegatw

Your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams (Part One)

Summary: Inception crossover/AU. Dreamsharing is digging through the mind, through the deepest, darkest secrets that should stay locked up tight, never to see the light of day. And the Winchesters—well, no secret is safe from them.

Word Count:  1,575

Characters: Dean, Sam, John, Ruby; Dean-centric

Warning: Mentions or torture, cannon-typical violence, invasion of another’s mind, non-linear timlines 

Author’s Note: This was written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Kari’s Favorite Things Challenge. My prompt/inspiration was the movie Inception, which is also one of my favorite movies. If you haven’t seen Inception or need a reminder, I made a primer, which you can find here

The title is from Acts 2:17. I’ve never been this nervous about a piece before, so please give me some feedback! Thanks to @stori-teller for the beta!

Originally posted by chinmayee190

In a dream, pain is all in the mind. Dean knows this—it’s one of the first lessons his father taught him—but it doesn’t matter because pain feels real when it happens. When the projections get him—because it is only a matter of time at this rate—they’ll tear him apart and he’ll wake up in his worn lawn chair, wracked with pain and an entirely whole body.  He’s already feeling a dislocated shoulder; blood flows from a large hole in the other shoulder, but he tries to ignore that, too. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t real; what matters is that he feels all of it.

So he runs.

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anonymous asked:

Any hunches about Book 5? Soman's lips are zipped and I'm dying.

I’m no Sabrina ( @sabrinaofwoodsbeyond , unofficial theorist and way smarter than my ass) but I’ll give it a go, starting with the characters i reckon are / aren’t at risk and other stuff after.

This is going to be super long, so here comes the read more link.

QFG SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY.

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Princess

Request: Could you write one where the reader is friends with Dean and Sam and she is usually all badass. But something turns her all girly and the boys don’t know how to deal with it?

Triggers: None

Word Count: 4795

Y/N = Your name  

I hope this was what you were looking for anon, had some trouble continuing past the badass part XD

— 

You were having a bad day as you entered the bar, dressed in your batman t-shirt, black skinny jeans and combat boots. You were going to meet the guys inside for a drink and a plan of action to get the witch who had been hexing poor innocent girls in the college town. Somehow escaping your every move to pinpoint her location. Your lack of a location being the main reason you were beyond pissed off. Walking through the wooden doors as if you were heading out into war. 

The bar was a bit busier than you had expected for a Tuesday afternoon. But considering this was a college town that was probably quite normal. You wouldn’t know, hunting kind of got in the way of your own college plans. What good was art history to you during a fight with a bunch of fangs? Unless a detailed review of Picasso’s blue period was enough to kill them off, which you highly doubted.

Either way you were pissed and ready to do some damage. So when the drunken frat boy set his eyes on you the moment you stepped in the door you had absolutely no patience for his bullshit. Probably being a bit bitchier than you really had to as you stared him down, but screw that, you had a bad day, and he should know better than to mess with you when you were pissed off. Ok, so he couldn’t know, but still… His fault for getting into the line of fire as your face was set at 110% queen bitch mode.

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frat boy masterpost (¬‿¬)

Thank you all for another hundred followers :’) I can’t thank you guys enough for continuing to follow me and support my work! I had so much fun writing the frat boy series and I’m glad to know you guys enjoyed reading it! I will try my best to write sequels since I know I left them all without resolution, so stay tuned!

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Jealousy, a Kurtbastian fic 3,500+ words

This is my first time posting a fic and or writing something like this so beware. Also, this prompt was for my girl Cece. Jealous!seb is a weakness. 

——-

“Rachel, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Kurt said quietly as he watched Rachel set their makeshift bar in their apartment.

Rachel giggled as she arranged shot glasses, and watched as the red solo cups formed higher mountains on the table. The bottles of rum and vodka were all arranged delicately surrounding a huge punch bowl, and Kurt’s eyes widened as she began to pour random combinations of the two foul smelling liquids inside.

“Rachel!,” Kurt exclaimed, snatching one of the bottles out of her hand. “Are you trying to have a house warming party or send everyone to the hospital?”.

“Just trying to throw the party of the year, babe!” Rachel said she grabbed the gallon of fruit punch on the table. “Maybe you’ll actually loosen up tonight and finally muster up the courage to tell Sebastian how much you LOOOVE him,” she said mockingly as she danced around her best friend.

Kurt rolled his eyes and groaned. “Like that’s going to happen. He just sees me as our friend, we’ve been over this how many times, Rachel?” Kurt said brokenly, taking a seat on the couch. The brunette followed him, somehow already having a glass of her demon-punch concoction in her hand.

“I mean, come on. He’s like, insanely gorgeous, plays lacrosse.. what do I do? Sing showtunes and change up my afternoon smoothie occasionally? I’m so in over my head,” Kurt said, putting his face in his hands.

Kurt felt like he had the same thoughts swirling in his head for weeks now. Sebastian had recently just became close with him and Rachel when they somehow ended up sitting next to him in one of the worst classes ever. With a few late night homework sessions and lunch dates, Sebastian had immersed himself into Rachel and Kurt’s quiet lives.

Kurt really only had Rachel to lean on before Sebastian came along, and well, that came with its price, and now it felt like he was trapped inside some twisted love story. Sebastian was gorgeous. And gay. And available. And perhaps the greatest, most sarcastic, asshole slut he had ever met.

But that smirk…

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The Solicitous Senior

Okay everybody! My first official prompt that was requested here over a month ago (man I am such an awful person for taking so long, many apologies)!

Thanks for putting up with my awful time management skills! Enjoy!

A/N: Canonically Jason dies at 15 and that’s like around a year or so of HS in the U.S. so this is semi-AU-y. In this imagine Jay becomes Robin at around 13, and death will happen around age 18/19.  

A/N 2: Liquid Cocaine is a secret menu Starbucks drink: Four shots of espresso and 4 pumps of white chocolate syrup.

A/N 3: Y/F/N is Your full name.

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 1396

~Mod Jaybird


It was around the third month of senior year, when you just manage to slide yourself into the desk of your first period class at Gotham Academy.

Your head immediately goes to rest on your palm as the tendrils of exhaustion creep back towards you. You are just about the enter warm, fuzzy dreamland when you hear a thud on the desk top.

Your eyes open to see a white cardboard cup with Y/N scribed across the top. “Please Dear Lord, tell me that’s what I think it is…”

Jason swings his leg over the chair in front of you and sits down with a chuckle while saying, “A Venti Liquid Cocaine with an extra shot and a pump of peppermint.”

“Oh! My knight in green scaly booty short armor,” taking a needed sip of the beverage feeling the caffeine and sugar seep into your veins. “What would I do without you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that was a phase, I do indeed wear pants now,” Jason said with a scowl. “And at this point I’m not really sure what you’d do other than have literally no friends.”

“If I was completely awake right now I would take offence to that, Birdbrain, so count yourself lucky.”

Jason let out a chuckle and turned around in his seat as the bell rang, “Whatever you say, Princess.”

You take another swig of coffee to cover up the pink tinge that spreads across your cheeks. Jason usually used the nickname as a way to get on your nerves, but lately it had started to give you butterflies.

You had known Jason ever since he came to Gotham Academy as Bruce Wayne’s new ward at the start of Eighth Grade. You were fast friends after having every class together and have been attached at the hip ever since.

He had told you about the Boy Wonder gig the summer before sophomore year. He came knocking on your window early one morning after a bout with a small amount of Scarecrow’s Fear Toxin. He was still in his uniform so the whole secrecy thing kinda went out the window when he came through it to embrace you in a bone crushing hug.

You had spent the last two and a half years learning first aid from Alfred and how to use the equipment from Bruce so you could help out as a member of Team Batman. But you didn’t notice how your feelings for the Boy Wonder had been changing until a close call last Spring.

Jason had been out for three days after Alfred patched him up and it left you wrecked on the inside. You realized that you never wanted to not have Jason in your life, but you were positive that he didn’t reciprocate the feelings so you kept them bottled up inside and carried on with the day to day.

The final bell had rung and you were coming from show choir and Jason was coming from being an aide in the library. Since those classes were located on complete opposite ends of the school you decide just to meet in the parking lot at his car every day.

As you walked down the sidewalk you hear a shout.

“Hey Y/N!”

You turn to see Brad Wellington, star quarterback and captain of the football team, jogging toward you.

“Hi, Brad. Did you need something?”

“Uh, um yeah, actually. I was wondering if you would like to go to the dance with me on Friday?”

You stare at his face for a moment in a kind of shock, wondering why someone like him, a jock, would ask someone like you, an intellectual, out to the Homecoming Dance.

When you regained some normal composure, you reply, “Uh, sorry Brad, I actually have upstanding plans with friends every Friday, thanks for the offer though. I’m sure you can find someone else to go with you!”  

“Uh, okay, yeah. Um, have a good rest of the day then.”

“You, too,” you say with a smile as you turn back towards the parking lot.

Jason was leaning against his Jeep when you walk up. “What’s up with Brad?”

“He was asking me to the Homecoming Dance.”

“Oh. That’s cool I’m sure you’ll have a great time, let’s get to the manor,” he says in a rapid-fire pace as he gets into his car.

You notice the subtle rigidity that comes over him but decide not to say anything.

Once the car is headed toward the manor an uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you.

You reach over to turn up the radio. The first few cords of yours and Jason’s favorite song starts to play, but right as you’re taking a breath to sing along in a ridiculous manner Jason pounds the power button plunging you into silence once more.

As you reach the gates of the manor you ask, “Is something wrong?”

Jason answers with silence.

The car pulls into the garage and Jason leaps out with astounding speed and slams the door behind him.

“Jason! Would you please just stop and talk to me!” You say as you cross the threshold. You get inside in time to see him storm up the stairs and toward the study. He was heading to the cave.

“Miss Y/N, lovely to see you as always. Is something the matter with Master Jason,” Alfred said as he walks out of the kitchen with a tray of cookies.

“Hiya, Al. His Highness the Drama King just has his panties in a twist. I’ll head down to the cave and see if I can get it out of him.”

“Would you like to take the cookies? I have come to find that they aid in many a situation.”

“You know, I think I will. Thanks, Alfred. You’re the best!” You take the tray and head to the cave entrance.

When you step off the elevator you can hear Jason taking out his frustrations in the training area. You set the cookies down next to the Batcomputer and walk over to him.

“Jason, will you please just stop and talk to me? Something’s obviously bothering you or you wouldn’t be taking it out on the practice dummy.”

“I’m fine, just leave me alone!” he says in a steely tone laying brutal punches into the aforementioned dummy.

And then all of a sudden it clicks. “Jason, are you jealous of Brad Wellington?”

His face turns red and he starts shouting, “Me? Jealous of that creep? NO! Why would I be jealous of an affluent, self-serving, egotistical, asshole, jock, that couldn’t tell his brain from a hole in the ground….”

 As he continues to ramble all you can think of is that it’s now or never. You walk over to Jason, place both hands on either side of his face and kiss him.

It takes a few seconds for him to realize what happening but once he does, he begins to kiss you back, and all you can think is thank the lord.

When you both break away for air, Jason’s eyes scan your face. “That was…amazing and I wish I had the guts to do it before now, but what about Brad?”

“If you would have let me finish my thought in the parking lot you would have known I turned him down. He’s a shallow bully, and a drunken frat boy waiting to happen. I don’t think I would ever be interested in a guy like that. Besides Fridays are our board game nights and it’s my week to whoop your ass at Ticket to Ride.”

Jason lets out a laugh, “So, you are more interested in a dork that likes books and board games, than a guy that could give you a life of riches and luxury.

“Jaybird, we’re in high school. We don’t have to worry about our futures just yet. But I think I would be the richest girl in the world if I got to spend the rest of my life with my book and board game loving best friend.”

You get up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Well if you’re certain why don’t we start off with an actual date? Y/F/N, would you do me the honor of going out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“I would love to, Jason Peter Todd. With all my heart.”
but then I found you (post-Sburb, rated T)

I just wrote this I don’t know why don’t look at me.

You find him at a party you didn’t even want to go to.

At some lost hour of the night you’re stumbling along through the thick, sticky press of bodies and wondering what the hell you’re doing here. It’s not that you don’t like hanging out or meeting new people, you totally do! You’re great at making friends and you’re pretty awesome at finding out what makes complete strangers laugh. Seeing a surprised laugh tumble past their lips is like a small victory and the best game is to find out how to make it happen. This right here, however, it’s just the stench of sweat and beer and smoke and weed and faces you’ve seen once or maybe twice blurring together. 

You want to go home, but you need to find Jade first. If you leave without telling her she’ll think you got kidnapped, freak out and strangle everyone who she thinks might’ve laid a finger on you. Which is one of the reasons you feel pretty safe surrounded by strangers, actually, even though you’re drunk and not entirely sure where you are anymore. Everybody thinks you’re Jade’s little brother (you’re not) and nobody’s willing to risk the world of hurt they’d be in for pissing her off. She once whacked someone unconscious with a lacrosse stick for picking on that dude who cruises around campus in a wheelchair (Tavris? Tarros? you can’t remember).

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About A Girl (Part Three)

a/n: this didn’t turn out quite as I’d imagined but, y’know, integral to the story. Feedback is very much appreciated :)
word count: 2200 / masterlist / part one / part two

Glancing over the skirt and top combination you’d decided on for your date with Luke, you chewed at your lip nervously. You weren’t all that worried about your outfit, truthfully, but there was a bubbling nausea in the pit of your stomach; an anxiety rippling through you, making your heart beat hard in your throat and your palms sweaty. You couldn’t do this – go on a date. A proper date, one where you knew he was going to try and get to know you, try to figure you out. You didn’t want him to figure you out. There was a reason you didn’t let people in, why you didn’t hang around to cuddle and small talk after you’d slept with Luke. Relationships didn’t work and Luke didn’t deserve to be pulled into the messy whirlwind that was your aggressively cynical life.

It was already too much that seeing his face in the bookstore – your favourite place, your secret safe space – was something you looked forward to every day. It was too much that it made your insides twist fondly when he tucked his lip ring between his teeth or when he called you Princess. You should never have said yes to going on a date with him, it was only going to make everything worse – it was only going to hurt more when he inevitably realized that you weren’t what he wanted, that you were a mess and he didn’t feel like cleaning.

Without much further thought, you slipped on your leather jacket and snuck out your front door, half an hour before Luke would be knocking to pick you up.

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“Are you a boy or a girl?” he asks, staring up from all three feet of his pudding face grandeur, and I say “Dylan, you’ve been in this class for three years and you still don’t know if I’m a boy or a girl?” And he says “Uh-uh.” And I say “Well, at this point, I don’t really think it matters, do you?” And he says “Uhhhm, no. Can I have a push on the swing?” And this happens every day. It’s a tidal wave of kindergarten curiosity rushing straight for the rocks of me, whatever I am.

And the class, when we discuss the Milky Way galaxy, the orbit of the Sun around the Earth… or whatever. Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, and kids, do you know that some of the stars we see when we look up in the sky are so far away, they’ve already burned out? What do you think of that? Timmy? “Umm… my mom says that even though you got hairs that grow from your legs, and the hairs on your head grow short and poky, and that you smell really bad, like my dad, that you’re a girl.” “Thank you, Timmy.”

And so it goes. On the playground, she peers up at me from behind her pink power puff sunglasses and then asks, “Do you have a boyfriend?” And I say no, and she says “Oh, do you have a girlfriend?” And I say “No, but if by some miracle, twenty years from now, I ever finally do, then I’ll definitely bring her by to meet you. How’s that?” “Okay. Can I have a push on the swing?”

And that’s the thing. They don’t care. They don’t care. Us, on the other hand… My father sitting across the table at Christmas dinner, gritting his teeth over his still-full plate, his appetite ripped away by the intrusion of my haircut, “What were you thinking? You used to be such a pretty girl!” Frat boys, drunken, screaming, leaning out of the windows of their daddys’ SUVs, “Hey! Are you a faggot or a dyke?” And I wonder what would happen if I met up with them in the middle of the night.

Then of course there’s always the somehow not-quite-bright enough fluorescent light of the public restroom, “Sir! Sir, do you realize this is the ladies’ room?” “Yes, ma’am, I do, it’s just that I didn’t feel comfortable sticking this tampon up my penis in the men’s room.”

But the best, the best is always the mother at the market, sticking up her nose while pushing aside her daughter’s wide eyes, whispering “Don’t stare, it’s rude.” And I want to say, “Listen, lady, the only rude thing I see is your paranoid parental hand pushing aside the best education on self that little girl’s ever gonna get, living with your Maybelline lips, stairmaster hips, synthetic kiwi-vanilla smelling beauty; so why don’t you take your pinks and blues, your boy-girl rules and shove them in that car with your fucking issue of Cosmo, because tomorrow, I start my day with twenty-eight minds who know a hell of a lot more than you. And if I show up in a pink frilly dress, those kids won’t love me any more, or less.”

“Hey, are you a boy or a — never mind, can I have a push on the swing?” And some day, y’all, when we grow up, it’s all gonna be that simple.

—  Andrea Gibson, Swing Set
Bed Buddy

Summary: Sam and Dean worry too much over small bruises
Warnings: Unwanted drunken advances, mild language
A/N: This one just sort of happened? I’m not usually a Sammy writer, so I hope it turned out okay!

It wasn’t the usual post-hunt whiskey, but the caffeinated soda from the motel vending machine was better than nothing. After the routine salt and burn, Dean had driven around town for fifteen minutes before he realized there wasn’t a local bar. The liquor store had closed before you’d even set out for the graveyard. You reminded yourself that the cola was better than nothing.

Your rooms were across the parking lot from the ill-lit and scantily stocked vending machine and loud voices drifted through the dark as you walked back to the door. You rolled your eyes as a small group of drunken frat boys from the college a town over stumbled between the cars toward you. 

Lucky bastards.

There were three of them, laughing loudly and slurring their words until their eyes fell on you. “Hey pretty lady,” the middle one said. The others snickered behind him. “What’s a lovely thing… all alone?” he tried to ask.

“I’m not alone, and I’m just getting home,” you said, attempting to walk around the group of boys. The one closest to you grabbed your waist and you sighed. It wasn’t the first time a drunken man wrapped his arms around you. Barely breaking five feet, your small figure seemed fragile and easily pushed around, but you were a hunter. “Please let go of me,” you said. Despite the twelve inches he towered over you, it wouldn’t take much of your energy to throw him into the parking spot. You still weren’t itching to haul him to the ground; you could actually hurt the poor boy.

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