flat surface bar

Put You In My Pocket And Save You For Later

Cisco Ramon met Mick Rory for the first time back when his type was exclusively ‘looks like they could beat the shit out of anyone who makes me feel bad” 

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aka the HeatVibe S1 rewrite monster that took over my brain

Cisco Ramon met Mick Rory for the first time back when his type was exclusively ‘looks like that could beat the shit out of anyone who makes me feel bad’. The unfortunate consequence of this was that frequently the current object of Cisco’s affections had to start with his immediate predecessor. Cisco’s at one of the neighborhood bars that tends towards a more – well, criminal – clientele, when he spots an ex by the jukebox and a guy built like a tank who looks like he could beat the crap out of anyone in the building propping the bar. The guy’s shirt buttons are almost entirely undone, revealing a set of abs to make Superman jealous, and the sleeves cling to some frankly marvelous biceps. He looks like he could probably throw Cisco over his shoulder and fight his way out of the bar without breaking a sweat, and the devil-may-care smirk on his face only adds to the dreadfully pretty picture.

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Blue Jeans

Imagine falling in love with Dean even though he repeatedly loves and leaves you, and being completely unaware that it’s because he’s a demon.

Author’s Note: This was a tough one! My first Demon!Dean x reader. I tried to get the perfect balance of Dean’s demonness and a small bit of his humanity. I think the beauty of the Demon!Dean character is the slightest essence of warring personalities; it's the constant questioning of how much of him is really him. Heavily inspired by Blue Jeans I recommend you listen with it. Reader falls in love with demon!dean. She doesn’t know he’s a demon and he loves/leaves her a lot. She still holds on to the hope that he’ll stay with her. It’s sexy angsty.

If you aren’t a fan of demon!dean you might still like this because I don’t portray him as excessively evil and the reader isn’t aware he’s a demon. 

I can definitely see a part 2 if you guys like it. I really want to resolve this with a happy ending, but I couldn’t see forcing it into this first section. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: language, violence, drinking, drunk kissing, angsty angst, demon!dean

I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead, taking with it a thin sheen of moisture. The room was thick with body heat and cigarette smoke. My clothing would probably always be permeated with alcohol and other scents of human misery. Everything around me seemed concentrated. The rumbling noise of the passing cars and ever-present clatter of voices came together to make a deafening hum. Glasses clicked like metronomes, the beer tap hissed rhythmically, and chairs screeched across the scratched floor. Another crash from the other side of the room brought my attention to the task ahead of me. I rubbed a rag across the surface of the bar top in large circles, my thoughts not on my work. Suddenly a sweaty hand landed on top of mine, pudgy fingers grasping at my wrist.

“Hey honey, think I could get another cold one?” I recoiled immediately, my skin crawling under his unwanted touch. The man at the bar was just another face. His jaw was slack in a drunken smile that looked horrifyingly empty.

“You know the rules, pay the tab.” I turned my back to him and poured a shot of whiskey for different customer who had just sat down and raised his hand for my attention. I was about to slide the tumbler in his direction when the same reddened fingers grabbed my arm forcefully. The alcohol in my grasp sloshed on to the freshly cleaned bar. “Dammit!” I tried to pull out of the grip around my forearm, but there was no escaping it.

“Hey, don’t get cocky just because you’re the bar slut. I said I wanted more beer.” I could feel his hot breath on my face, dots of spit spattering my turned cheek. I hated this job. I hated the men that came here to drown their sorrows and suffocate my dreams.

“And I’m saying piss-off.” I grit my teeth and faced him with all of the courage I could muster, my lip curling in disgust as I got a closer view of his Cheshire grin. The grip on my arm tightened, till I was sure there would be bruises the next day.

Suddenly the pig of a man was propelled forward, a hand on the back of his head forcing him down. It took me a moment to process what was happening as his hold on me released and his forehead hit the bar with a loud crack. It was so brutal, so primal and quick, that I didn’t know how to react. My gaze slowly followed the large hand that held the man’s head down against the splintered and alcohol stained wood. At the end of the strong arm was a white t-shirt framed by a worn leather jacket.

“She said no, asshole.” The stubbled jaw I saw matched the gruff voice perfectly. His words were like whiskey; smooth, fiery, and left me licking my lips. I had never seen him before, I would have recognized a face like that.

My rescuer jammed his hand into the unconscious man’s pockets and retrieved several crumpled bills. “Cheap son of a bitch…”

I should have said something, anything about what just happened, but I was speechless. Apparently the rest of the bar was no different; not a single person dared stand to defy the attractive assailant. He pushed the limp body off the bar stool and sat down in its place, the whole time completely nonchalant. I felt my heart beat fast as he raised the money in my direction. His eyes exuded something darker than any sin I knew. A chill worked its way up my spine as I struggled to pin point the source of his twisted yet blank expression. He looked sick, in a way that was far beyond medication.

“Here. This should cover his tab, and my drinks for the night."He slid the money into my hand, his stare drifting down my body slowly before he smiled. The curve of his lips was everything I should have run from, but it was too late. This James Dean stranger had captivated me with fear and fascination. Whatever illness he had, I wanted to catch.


I could feel his eyes on my as I worked. He never seemed satisfied with the refills I gave him, or the brief conversations we had. I kept expecting him to just not show up one day, maybe because he had the wild look of a man either wrestling with death or done with life. He would sit there for hours, knocking back more alcohol than most men could consume in a week. There was something fierce inside him that couldn’t be dulled, even when his head was swimming with drunkenness. It wasn’t till I finished restocking the bar that I realized he was the only one still there with me. The flickering street lights outside signified that it was long past closing.

"Sorry Dean, looks like you’re down to your last drink.” I used the title I had heard someone call him over the phone. His ears perked up and he cocked his head at my words. It looked like he wasn’t used to the sound of his own name, but he seemed pleased to hear it from me. He nodded towards the bottle of whiskey in my hand and gestured me to draw close with one bent finger. Every thing he did was so captivating. I hesitantly stepped up to the bar across from him and watched as he wrapped his hand around mine and tipped the bottle down over a shot glass.

He filled another and slid one towards me. “Well then, let’s drink to it.” I shouldn’t have been drinking at all, let alone at night in an empty bar with a foreboding stranger, but something about his gaze made my veins buzz with electricity. I felt a force outside of myself lifting the tumbler next to his. His mouth was parted slightly as he glanced at me, his unoccupied hand running through his hair.

“To you, Y/N.” My name had never sounded so damn beautiful as when it was slipping from his lightly chapped lips. We were so close that I could see the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose and cascading down his cheeks. I wondered if I would ever get the chance to see just how far those sun kissed marks extended.

I’m not sure when one shot turned into two, or when three became something closer to four, but soon I was sitting on the bar, Dean’s arm around me as he poured another finger of alcohol.

“No, no… I can’t.” He grinned and stared up at me with lazy eyes. It could have been my imagination, but they seemed dark as the room we were occupying. No matter how I leaned I never saw the light from outside catch in his irises. It was like they had gone completely dark.

“Are you sure you can’t?” Dean’s hand ran down my back slowly, one finger craned to catch on the folds of my tank top with painful slowness. I’m not sure how but the conversation had shifted, and I no longer believed we were discussing something as innocent as whiskey. I breathed with an open mouth as I watched him get closer and closer to my face. His lips grazed mine before settling in the crook of my neck. He was dangerous, deadly even, yet I couldn’t do anything but bury a hand in his soft hair. A haunting question lingered in the back of my mind. Was he was really drunk as I was, or just pretending?

His right hand spread flat on the bar surface to anchor his body as he leaned into me, pulling me close as possible. It was then that I noticed the strange tattoo on his forearm. I didn’t have long to examine it before his kisses clouded my already shattered thoughts.

“Y/N… You can come down off this bar.” Dean’s voice was muffled as he pressed open kisses on my bare shoulder. “And we can get out of here.” He pulled me closer to the edge of the wooden surface to illustrate his suggestion, my legs dangling into his lap.

I stared down at him as he broke away to take a jagged breath. “Or I’m leaving. Because I’m not sure how much longer you have before I pull you down myself…” I could tell from his strained voice that he was close to doing just that. A little growl emanated from him as he finished his sentence, only deepening the ache I felt for him in my chest. I was shaking with a mix of nervousness and desire. I swallowed in consideration and tried to reassure myself that this was all perfectly normal. He wasn’t really a stranger anymore, not after talking with him for my entire shift for the past few weeks. Before I could change my mind I placed a hand on his shoulder and slid from my safe perch.

As soon as I landed in his arms I could feel the change in atmosphere. A smothering sense of darkness and self-loathing practically oozed from his skin. For the first time I felt compassion instead of fear. I leaned up to his mouth and kissed him softly. My lips moved against his with the sweetest passion I could offer, a foolish attempt to try and purify him with my love.  


“Dean…” I squinted through the dimly illuminated motel room and searched for the source of the footsteps shaking the floor. Thankfully I was a light sleeper. I finally caught sight of a man slipping a jacket over his arms. The bed I was lying in suddenly felt much larger and colder than it had the night before.

“Are you leaving?” I already knew the answer. Night after night had been the same. It wasn’t in him to stay longer than a day or two. He sighed and braced himself against the door with his arm before turning to face me. Even in this lighting I could see that he wasn’t remorseful. His expression was that same dull fire as always, completely oblivious to the pain he was causing.

“You’re amazing babe, really.” He walked to my side and ran a thumb over my cheek with delicacy that made me want to cry. He was obscenely gentle and tenderly violent, almost as if he was at a war with two halves of himself. It wasn’t fair to be loved like this and then left alone. 

“But I have to go, you know that.” I closed my eyes and tried to hide the tears forming under my lashes. He didn’t deserve to see what he did to me, not when it didn’t affect him in the slightest. I rolled over with my back to him and ignored his touch. I had begged him to stay too many times.

“Then just go.” I could imagine the way he was grinding his jaw and staring down at me. I had seen it enough times to know what it looked like. Hot breath tickled my hair as a kiss was pressed to the shell of my ear, along with a heartbreaking whisper.

“I’ll be back.”

I mumbled that I didn’t care, but I secretly counted the steps he took towards the exit. Some terrible part of me hoped he would stop somewhere between here and there. After I heard the door close I broke down, my sobs echoing off the emptiness around me.

I cursed myself for ever going home with a man like him. He would be back in a few days, his knuckles covered in cuts and bruises. I had no idea where he went or what he did, and I didn’t want to know. All I knew is that he would smell like blood and other women when he climbed into my bed again. He wandered in and out of my life as he pleased; he knew that I could never say no. I would stay up waiting for him every night if I had to, and as long as he came back to me, I would give him every ounce of love that I had left.

“And I’ll be right here…”

This weekend has been a busy one here at Vaughn Body Arts. Lots of wonderful clients getting beautiful piercings. Here’s one of our favorites from yesterday.

Kristen wanted a surface piercing on her sternum. We used a 14g 5/8" anatometal flat surface bar with these gorgeous threaded flowers, anodized bronze.

Thanks so much, Kristen!

It’s Gwen! This coming Sunday will be Vaughn Body Arts’ one year anniversary.

Gwen was one of our customers on opening day, she had her lip frenulum (smiley) pierced. Here it is after an upgrade to a rose gold fixed bead ring, just days shy of being a year old.

We also switched out the gems on her healed anatometal flat surface bar piercing Cody did two years ago (close up to show how nice and flat it still sits). The graduating sized Champagne gems look great.

Thank you Gwen!