i thought i was going to have to coyote ugly my way out

Leave A Message: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: AU, After a night of heavy drinking, Betty Cooper realizes she’s left a series of revealing messages on her crush and roommate, Jughead Jones’s phone. 

Words: 1,600

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, swearing, sexual dialogue but mostly embarrassing fluff. 

A/N: I’ve edited this myself so I apologize for errors. 

Betty Cooper’s head was pounding. She had made the mistake of going out with her roommates Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge to celebrate the end of finals. Now she was sitting at their kitchen island cradling a cup of coffee, trying to figure out if IHOP delivered.

“Good Morning!” Cheryl sang as she skipped into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her luscious red was piled up on top of her head and her skin was glowing. She looked like an angel not someone who had partied hard the night before. “How are you?” She asked Betty.

“I’m so hungover” Betty groaned resting her head on her arms. “I’ve never been this hungover.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have done all those shots of Liquid Cocaine.” Cheryl chuckled and began taking out a few frying pans. “You want some bacon and eggs?” She asked.

“I do!” Veronica answered, her silk black robe trailing behind her matching her beautiful black hair. She walked up to Cheryl and gave her a soft kiss. Cheryl and Veronica had been dating since before they had left Riverdale and their relationship was goals.

“How are you guys not hungover?” Betty asked.

“We didn’t do three shots of tequila and then perform a Coyote Ugly style dance on the bar. You drank so much you should be dead.” Veronica informed.

“I wish I was dead.” Betty said sliding off her stool and laid on the floor. “The tile is so cold. I love the tile.”

“You’ve seen better days, Cooper.” Jughead Jones exited his bedroom from the other side of the loft and sat in the stool Betty just occupied. Jughead was Betty’s fourth and final roommate and she had developed a deep crush on him since the four of  them had moved from Massachusetts to California for school.  

Jughead had blossomed in the sunshine state. He had taken up surfing and gotten a tan, transforming himself into a ripped golden god. Whatever girls didn’t like about his moodiness in Riverdale, they loved here. Betty hated that she didn’t make a move sooner and now that he was bedding Californian goddesses, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh god.” She muttered rolling onto her back. She was so dehydrated she could hear herself blinking. She focused on Jughead messy mop of black hair when he appeared above her.

“Up we go.” He said lifting her into the sitting position. “Take these,” he dropped two extra strength Advil in her palm. “And drink the entire glass.” He instructed.

She did as she was told and steadied herself against him when she stood up. “I need to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.” Jughead agreed walking her back to her room. “Do you need to use the washroom?” He asked.

“I’m not a child, Jug.” Betty snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you not just rolling around on the floor moaning?” He cocked an eyebrow and helped her into bed. She got underneath the covers and he tucked her in. “Get more rest, you’re gonna need it.” He winked and left her room, closing her door.

Her brow furrowed at her choice of words but she was too tired to give it much more thought than that.

She woke up at 3 in the afternoon feeling much better. Still hungover but manageable. She stumbled out into the living room and found Jughead reading a book. “There she is!” He exclaimed. “I got more Advil out and grabbed some water. There is some left over Thai from lunch in he fridge if you are hungry.”

Betty grabbed the Advil, headed over to the kitchen and began heating up her food. Once the Thai was nice and hot she made way back over to the couch.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked not looking up from his book.

“Mmmm” She answered with a mouth full of food.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“So you don’t remember dancing on the bar?” He inquired.

She shook her head.

“You don’t remember leading the whole bar in a rendition of ‘Come On Eileen’?”

“How do you know this? You weren’t even there”

“Cheryl was sending me videos.” He paused. “Do you remember making a phone call?”

“It’s 2018, Juggie, no one makes phone calls anymore.” She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of her water.

“You sure about that?” He asked again.

“I haven’t spoken on a phone in like two years.”

Jughead took out his cell, began scrolling and finally pushed a button. He held it up so they could both hear it.

“Jughead, mother fucking, Jones.” Betty’s gravelly drunken voice rasped out of the phone.

Her eyes widened and she started choking on her food.

“You fucking idiot with your stupid hat and your stupid attitude and your stupid face like you don’t know how amazing you are. Well, I guess you kinda do now with that revolving bevy of girls in our apartment all the time. And what is wrong with me huh? I’m hot, I’ve had six guys hit on me tonight. Six!”

She heard herself yell through the phone and she buried her head in her arms. “No, no, no.” She repeated over and over again.

“I’m smart too and my personality is okay, so what’s your problem Jughead, huh? I’ve been told that my vagina is like, the actual best. Like, what do I need to do? I guess there is a possibility that you aren’t interested in me but I’m the tits so why wouldn’t you be.” She paused. “Another thing, you actual piece of shit-” She was cut off and he lowered the phone.

“Please tell me I didn’t call you back.” She asked, looking at him through her fingers.

He was smirking and she wanted to smack him. “That was the first of fifteen messages. My favorite was how you told me that you obsess over how big my penis is but it’s probably just normal size and that you should stop worrying about it because this isn’t a romance novel.” He chuckled.

She made a whiny, crying sound, her face burning hot.

He didn’t say anything like she expected. She expected him to tease her, she expected him to tell her that they were friends but their relationship wouldn’t be anything more than that but he didn’t. She felt his weight on the couch beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“Would it made a difference if I did?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of a big difference, do you know how you appear to others? Do you know how intimidating you are?” His voice was soft and sincere.

“What are you talking about?” She snapped, rubbing her temples.

“You’re beautiful, smart and funny. You make everything seem so effortless, you should date an architect or something.”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with architects?” She moaned, falling back into the cushions of the sofa.

Jughead sighed. “Betty, did you ever think about just asking me out?”

She threw him some serious side eye. “Oh yeah Jug, I’ll just walk up to you and be like, ‘Hey, I know we’ve known each other forever and I’ve ignored you for most of it but now that you’re all hot and dating models and shit, you wanna go out on a date?’” She scoffed.

“Okay.” He replied.

“What?” She sat up quickly, wincing when he head throbbed.

“I’ll go out with you.”

“Why? You date hipster girls who wear glasses they don’t need and are way too big for their face. You date girls who always look good in a romper, always have perfect Coachella hair and eat avocado toast everyday. I go days without showering, I’ve slept in the library more than once, I’ve dropped a McDonalds hamburger on the ground and still ate it because I had spent my last dollar on it and it was all I could eat for 17 hours until I got paid. Last night I threw up in my hamper-”

Jughead cut her off with a kiss. Betty was taken aback by the sudden gesture and it took her body a moment to relax and really accept what was happening. Betty had fantasized about this moment every night for months. What he would smell like, what he was taste like, how he would feel. He tasted like the cinnamon tic tacs he was always eating, spicy and sweet. He smelled like clean laundry, the sea and coconuts from using the girls shampoo all the time. Betty ran her hands through his hair bringing him closer to her. His body was hard and muscular and he pushed it against her, his skin warm and tan and so different from what she expected.

He parted from her, a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Liar.” Betty whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Betty, I’ve had a thing for your since the ninth grade.” He admitted, kissing her again.

“Do you want to take this into the bedroom?” She cooed running her hands over his chest.

“No, Bets.”

Her head jerked back. “What? Why? You take all these girls to bed and not me?”

“Betty, you aren’t all girls, you’re the girl.” He smiled and kissed her again.

She smiled back. “Can you please, for the love of god, delete all the messages I left you.”

“Um, absolutely not, this shit belongs in the MOMA.” He took out his phone. “Prepare yourself for message number two.”


Author’s Note: Hey guys! @lucifer-in-leather sent this gif in to me a while ago (sorry this took so long!) and I decided to combine it with a challenge…it seemed to fit well! This is for @beckawinchester ‘s Birthday Challenge! Prompt will be bolded in the fic. I hope you enjoy it and as always feedback is welcome and appreciated! I love all of you. If you would like to join my tag list, send me an ask. I don’t bite. ;)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,000-ish

Warnings: Fluff, SMUT, Language

Prompts: #5 “How the hell am I supposed to fit in that?” and #1 Bar (Place)

Song: “Teacher” by Nick Jonas (I highly suggest you listen to this song. I love it!)

Originally posted by frozen-delight

“Fort Wayne, Indiana,” Sam confidently slid his laptop toward you as you sipped on your whiskey while Dean sighed and laid his head back in frustration. “String of female deaths at a bar. Apparently they do an amateur night for girls to dance up on the bar. The girls make some tips while they compete. The top two girls who collect the most cash move on to the finals, ya-da ya-da…”

You rolled your eyes and set your drink down, “Classy.”

“But get this,” Sam started and Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly, “The past three females that have died were one of the finalists. All found in the same dressing room. No forced entry, no sign of struggle. And the cameras show no one going in or out of the room but the girls.”

“Coyote Ugly gone bad,” You muttered and Dean snickered, enjoying your reference. “I will assist on this hunt under one condition…I am not dancing on a bar under any circumstances. You understand me?”

“Crystal clear,” Sam smiled and you stood up, then made your way to your room in the bunker to start packing. “Let’s leave within the hour.”

Keep reading

Remember This Moment (With Me) - Klance

Happy birthday to my dear Bobbie. You’re such a wonderful person, and through you I’ve met some of the most amazing people. I’ve felt a level of acceptance with you and the rest that I’ve never felt before, and I’m endlessly grateful for you and the whole group that you brought together. Here’s some almost-late soft Klance for your birthday. You’re my favourite non-binary Cuban babe <3


(you gotta listen to this while you read it)

Keith had been planning this for weeks. Lance had mentioned his high school prom once almost six weeks ago, and Keith had tilted his head to the side, blinking owlishly at him. He knew what a prom was, of course. He lived in the desert, not a cave in the mountains. He’d opted out of his high school prom. His girlfriend had just broken up with him to go to the dance with some other guy, likely one her parents would adore. He didn’t remember being terribly heartbroken about not going to the dance. 

But apparently Lance had not gone to his, though not through any choice of his own. He’d received a concussion while boxing and had been unable to attend, and he was apparently still bitter about it, if his whining was anything to go by. He mostly whined to Keith, since they were… sort of, almost dating. Maybe. Semantics, Keith thought. Lance knew that Keith only had eyes for him; he’d made it abundantly clear. Touched his hand at dinner that one night. Laughed at his joke about pineapples and baby aspirin (and it honestly had been funny, which was kind of the sad part). Put his head against Lance’s shoulder and actually dozed off just like that. 

And yet Lance still hadn’t started with the grand theatrics he always howled about doing for anyone he was interested in back on Earth.

Keith looked up at the transformed training room, his fists planted on his hips.

“Try ignoring this, buddy,” Keith muttered to no one in particular. Hunk had helped him add solid, yet temporary, beams that went from wall to wall, intersecting at different points, leaving large gaps between them and sort of resembling perches in a bird cage. Hunk, coming through for Keith once again like the genius he truly is, rigged up string lights that they twined around the beams. He mixed up some Space Punch and tiny Space Sandwiches with tinier toothpicks in them. He smoothed Keith’s hair back and pulled it into a neat little ponytail, much more refined than the sloppy one Keith usually wore when he was training. Honestly, if Keith wasn’t already completely gone for Lance, he’d be trailing after Hunk like a lovestruck puppy. But all of this was for Lance. 

There were no tuxedos in space, so Keith just made sure that his clothes were clean and neat. As clean and neat as three year old clothes that he wore every day could be, at least. Pidge had managed to keep Lance occupied all day with a video game, and was supposed to be sending him past the training room when she was done with him, where he would hear the sweet lyrics of ‘Can’t Fight the Moonlight’ filtering out from the open doors. Keith paced back and forth, nervous and gnawing on his lip. Hunk had assured him that Lance would love this, even more so since it was coming from him

“Does that mean -” Keith began, blinking at Hunk.

“He does, he just doesn’t know he’s allowed to yet,” Hunk told him. That had been yesterday, and his words kept replaying in Keith’s head, over and over as he tried to work out how the fuck he’d manage to confess to Lance that he was in love with him and then somehow dance with him all night. Or maybe he’d dance all night and then confess? Would Lance even let him get that far, or would he try to get an explanation out of him before any dancing even happened? Keith really wanted to tug on his hair, but Hunk hurried into the room just then and swatted his hands away, looking excited. 

“He just left Pidge’s room, he’s coming this way. Don’t mess up your hair now,” he chastised gently, smoothing a piece back. Keith looked up at him.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked in a small voice. Hunk chuckled at him.

“It’s a bit late for that, dude. It was your idea anyway, remember? But I am sure about it. I know Lance; he’s going to love it,” he assured. He gave Keith’s shoulder a squeeze and then hurried right back out and scuttled down the hallway. Keith waved his hand and pulled up a small holoscreen - he dimmed the lights and turned on the string lights that decorated the beams and ran along the floor in a large square, creating the illusion of a dance floor. Soft yellow-white light filled the room, and he pressed another button on the screen and the music started playing. Both Pidge and Hunk had confirmed Lance’s pure, unadulterated love for Coyote Ugly, so he decided to start with that. 

Keith turned his back on the door, looking up at the beams and the twinkling lights wrapped around them, at the little table where the sandwiches and drinks were set up at. The longer he stared at it all, the more deflated he became. This was pathetic. A mockery of prom, really. He knew what prom was supposed to be like - bright, multicoloured lights, a live DJ, a few hundred sweaty, horny teenagers grinding on each other, limousines, smuggled booze, ripped condom packages on the bathroom floor. Photos and smiles for the yearbook. What was he even thinking? He didn’t even have a cell phone that he could take a picture with Lance on. He didn’t have a corsage! Lance would want a corsage! The flowers would look so good on his slender wrist and he didn’t even think to make one out of origami paper. 

This was going to fail. Lance was going to laugh at him, and he’d just be consumed with heartbreaking, unrequited love for the rest of his days. They wouldn’t be able to form Voltron, and they’d kick Keith out for sure, exiling him to be with his own people (who hated him because he was a paladin, and they’d kill him on the spot). 

“Keith? What’s all this?”

Keith whipped around, so fast he nearly over-rotated to spin in a complete circle. Lance was standing just outside of the square the lights on the floor formed. His eyes were wide, eyebrows nearly vanishing into his hairline as he gazed around the room, tilting his head back to look at the criss-crossing beams. He dragged his eyes back down to the small table of refreshments, and then finally settled on a fidgeting Keith. 

“What is this?” Lance asked again, his voice curious and soft. 

Keith took in the quiet confusion in his voice and on his face, absorbed the open wonder Lance had as he looked at all the work Keith and Hunk had put into this one night. That was all it took for Keith to unclench his fists and sigh.

“You… mentioned that you missed your prom because of a concussion. I didn’t go to mine by choice, ‘cause I’d just been dumped, but Shiro and Hunk and Pidge told me about what their proms were like and how much fun they had at them, and I just thought that maybe you’d like to experience prom? With me? Since neither of us went to ours,” he rambled. Lance blinked at him, his face carefully blank.

“I - what? This is prom?” he asked a little breathlessly. Keith flushed, looking away.

“I mean, sort of? It’s a little tacky, I didn’t have a lot to work with here -”

“Tacky? Are you kidding me? This is space prom, Keith, it’s already better than anything I could have gone to in high school!” Lance burst out excitedly. He jumped lightly over the lights, skidding up to Keith and grabbing at his hands. Keith felt heat flooding his cheeks, but he gripped Lance’s hands back just as tightly. 

“So you’ll go to space prom with me?” he asked boldly. Lance grinned at him, flashing those beautiful white teeth, his eyes crinkling up boyishly. 

“Yes!” Keith smiled back, and then dropped Lance’s hands. He waved one of his hands and brought up the holoscreen again, gesturing to Lance.

“Then pick a song, one you can dance to,” he said. With an excited little bounce, Lance navigated through the list of songs on the holoscreen and finally picked one with a happy gasp. 

“Where did you get these? I haven’t heard these since we left Earth!” he said happily. 

“Pidge is magic, I think,” Keith said with a chuckle. An upbeat rap song began playing, something about boys and cooling systems. Lance spun around, a smirk on his handsome face, and he grabbed Keith’s hand. 

“You know how to dance?” Keith let Lance guide him to the center of the room, grinning.

“Absolutely not,” he said. Lance barked out a laugh, tossing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut in mirth, and Keith was sure that his pupils actually turned into little hearts. Lance turned around to face him again, dropping a hand to his shoulder and letting the other trail down his own body. 

“Then just do whatever you feel like doing,” he said. 

I want to shove you against a wall and kiss you for the next two years, if that’s okay, Keith thought, his eyes ziplining down to Lance’s hips as they began to move. His mouth dried up and his eyes widened as Lance’s body began to twist and snap in time to the music. His feet brushed across the floor, carrying him away from and then closer to Keith, dropping down and bouncing back up effortlessly, like he’d just been out at a nightclub the night before, instead of at peace talks with a new planet. Keith tried to mimic a few of Lance’s simpler dance moves, emboldened by the way Lance whistled at him. 

Dark hands fell upon his waist, pulling them close together, and Lance began to grind on him, his body sinuous like a snake and moving like this was his job, instead of piloting a giant alien machine of war. Unsurprisingly, Lance was good at this, too. He seemed, to Keith, to be good at just about everything. 

They danced through seven more songs before Lance stopped, threw his head back and laughed, sweaty and shining in the soft light. “This is amazing, Keith!” he exclaimed, holding onto Keith’s hand. Keith felt his chest swell.

“I’m - good. That’s good. I was worried that…” he trailed off. Lance furrowed his brow.

“Worried that it wouldn’t be good enough?” Keith nodded. Lance squeezed Keith’s hand, then threaded their fingers together. “Keith, I.. No one’s ever done anything like this for me. This is perfect.” 

They stood close - close enough that Keith could have rocked forward on his toes and kissed him. He was tempted, so tempted. It would have been a good moment for it, so easy. But it wasn’t the perfect moment, and Keith would be damned if the rest of this didn’t go as perfectly as he’d planned. 

“This hasn’t even been the best part,” Keith drawled teasingly. Lance raised an eyebrow in question, his lips quirking up in a smile. “Close your eyes.” Lance pursed his lips in a little pout, but acquiesced. Keith pulled up the holoscreen once more and dimmed the lights a little more. “Now, when I say jump, I want you to jump up, okay?” 

“Weird, but okay,” Lance agreed. Keith poised his finger over a button on the screen.

“One - two - jump,” he instructed. Just as Lance’s feet left the ground, Keith pushed the button that turned off the gravity in the training room. Lance’s blue eyes flew open when his feet didn’t touch back down; he looked down at where he was hovering, and then back to Keith with a grin. Keith quickly put a song on play and grabbed Lance’s hands again, then pushed off hard from the floor, sending them up into the air. Laughter bubbled up out of Lance and Keith smiled at him as they sailed through the air, the music beginning to play around them. 

“Dance with me,” Keith murmured, drawing Lance closer to him as they approached one of the light-covered beams. Lance blinked at him once in surprise, and then his face spread into a smile so wide Keith swore it could crack a star right in two. 

“Charmer,” he whispered. Keith pulled him close, and as they neared a beam, he pushed against it with his foot, sending them coasting away through the air again. “Slow dancing with me in zero g’s? You’re smooth, Red.” Keith smiled, tucking his chin onto Lance’s shoulder, because that’s where he fit after Lance’s (hopefully final) growth spurt last year. 

“One look at you, my whole life falls in line,” Keith murmured quietly, speaking the lyrics of the song that Pidge had frantically told him was “so obviously the only song for you two”. He couldn’t sing, wouldn’t want to try to because that would definitely drive Lance away, but he could at least sort-of hum decently. Lance tensed up in his arms, but relaxed by the time the violin began to play. He heard him gasp, felt a hand leave his waist - if Keith had to guess, he’d probably figure that Lance was very dramatically covering his mouth. Keith smiled, because it was such a Lance thing to do, and he loved it. 

“Whatever may come, your heart I will choose,” he hummed. “Forever I’m yours, forever I do.” 

Lance’s arms suddenly tightened around his waist, and Keith’s breath hitched in his throat, choking a little on the last note he’d sung so quietly. They brushed against another beam, and Keith gently kicked them away from it; their bodies spiraled a little as they moved away from it. Lance bent his head down and Keith could feel his breath leaving between his teeth against his hair.

“Are you -”

“Shut up, Lance,” Keith huffed, a smile spreading across his face. Lance chuckled, and Keith felt his hand leave his waist and tug at his own elbow. Lance maneuvered them until he had Keith’s hand in his, and he laced their fingers together. 

“Okay, okay. Serenade me, Red,” he whispered. He squeezed Keith’s hand, rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin not covered by his gloves. Reassured by Lance’s reaction, he tightened his grip around the blue paladin’s waist again, and was further encouraged by the feel of Lance wiggling against him to get closer. 

“The way you love, it changes who I am,” Keith murmured. 

“This is really happening,” Lance whispered. Keith could hear the smile in Lance’s voice, and if he hadn’t already been flying, he felt like this could have given him wings. “Oh my god, Keith-”

“I can’t believe it’s true. I get to love you, it’s the best thing that I’ll ever do,” Keith hummed. Lance sort of spasmed against Keith then, gripping his hand almost too tightly.

“Screw the song,” he muttered in a rush. Lance pulled back just enough to put half a breath between them, only to lean in and press his lips to Keith’s. There was a fleeting thought of but the song is kinda nice before Keith allowed his eyelids to flutter shut and kissed Lance back. 

Lance’s lips were wildly soft, and honestly, Keith expected that. He didn’t expect Lance to be quite so good at kissing, though - he kind of thought that maybe all of that bravado would be just an act, or a front to hide his inexperience. Nope, no, he was being proved very wrong as Lance’s lips slanted against his at the most spectacular angle, smirking just enough to draw Keith’s lips into a soft pucker. The hand that held his released it and moved up to cradle the side of his face, and Keith clutched at Lance’s waist, fingers flexing into his shirt. 

Keith couldn’t help the happy groan that escaped his throat, and Lance responded favourably, chuckling softly into the kiss and licking plaintively at his lips. Keith opened under him immediately, sighing gently and wrapping his tongue around Lance’s. Despite the heat that pooled in his belly, the kiss was still so innocent to Keith. He could live and die in that moment and be perfectly okay with it all. 

When Lance pulled back, his eyes were bright and narrowed in a wide grin, his cheeks were flushed, and Keith thought there wasn’t a more beautiful sight in any galaxy he’d ever been to. 

“Is this your way of asking me to go steady?” Lance asked, crooked grin falling into place. Keith’s fingers twitched against his waist.

“Yes,” he said, straightforward and blunt as he’s ever been. “You’re allowed to want this, you know.” Surprise coloured Lance’s face, and he grinned wide and bright before tossing his head back and laughing, low and almost humming. 

“Okay, hot shot. You got me,” he murmured. Keith smirked and dragged Lance by his face back against his lips. Lance kissed him enthusiastically, all but giggling into the kiss, and Keith was definitely on cloud nine, if the clenching, fluttering feeling in his chest was anything to go by. “How’re we gonna get down?” Lance muttered into the kiss. Keith shrugged.

“Don’t know,” he mumbled. “Kiss me again and maybe it’ll come to me.” With another bark of laughter, Lance rocked back in mid-air, pulling Keith with him. They were nearly horizontal now, and Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s shoulders and kissed him for all he was worth. The song that Keith had been singing was on repeat, though neither was paying much attention at this point. Keith didn’t think he’d ever be able to focus on anything again except Lance’s lips and the way they moved against his own. Even when Lance pushed away from him, cackling and kicking off of a beam and sailing across the room, Keith couldn’t stop from staring at the stretch of his lips over his straight white teeth. Their game of zero-gravity tag was interrupted no less than six times by Keith latching onto Lance and kissing him breathless. 

Almost an hour later, when they finally touched down on the floor and turned the gravity back on, Lance launched himself at Keith, wrapping long arms and legs around Keith, forcing the red paladin to support him with a very firm grip on his ass. Lance buried his fingers into Keith’s hair and kissed him feverishly, like they hadn’t spent the last forty-five minutes making out. 

“I’m glad I didn’t go to my Earth prom,” he said breathlessly. Keith blinked up at him. “I’m glad this is my only prom experience.” He leaned in and touched their foreheads together, and Keith watched his eyes close, watched a slow, easy smile overtake his handsome face. 

“Lance,” Keith said softly. Blue eyes opened, penetrated Keith right to the very core of his being. He was sure that Lance was staring straight into his soul, and he hoped Lance could see every overwhelming, desperate, helpless, lovestruck thing he was feeling. 

From the way Lance’s breath hitched, Keith figured that Lance was seeing the same future he did. 

the whole idea of dancing in zero-g came from @jamthedingus and then @lancesexual came and punted my face into the sun with that FUCKING SONG so thanks u gay fucks.

Dirty Work: Part 1

Series Summary: After joining the BMoL with Sam and Dean, the reader and Ketch are paired to track down the vampires who attacked the British bunker.

A/N: Part 1 of ? I hope you guys enjoy this. I was kind stressed over writing Ketch, because I hadn’t done it before, but all the Ketch feels wouldn’t repress, so here this is. I haven’t watched 12x16 yet, but I know it’s mostly a Dean, Sam and Mick episode so hopefully this isn’t too far off.

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader

Word Count: 1923

Originally posted by netflixandcastiellll

Revealing that for the past two weeks you’d been doing the BMoL’s dirty work, Sam convinced you and Dean to work with the Brits nevertheless. Even though you swore to never help the organization, you couldn’t resist the guilt that was Sam’s puppy dog eyes. Still, you felt wary, understandably since the incident with Toni torturing Sam, and threatening the entire team. But if the youngest Winchester could put the incident aside, you had no choice but to do the same.

The following day, you drove to the British Men of Letters bunker in separate cars; Dean and Sam in the Impala, you in your black Mustang. The boys were basically your brothers, but that didn’t mean you would form the same opinions. You’d been stuck up a river without your car before, this wouldn’t be another time.

It was near noon when you pulled up to the BMoL’s American headquarters. The second time you’ve been to the facility; two weeks prior you’d gone with Dean and Ketch, trying to stop their vampire invasion. You noted they added a second guard outside the gates.

Keep reading

Behind The Story - Pt. 12

Summary: The reader is Jensen’s girlfriend (fiancé) and also a cast member of the show. Discover their journey to parent hood and marriage as they go.

Author: deanwinchester-af

Characters: Jensen, Reader, Jared and Cast Cameos.

Pairings: Single!Jensen x Actress!Reader

Words: 2K

Warnings: Implied Smut.



A/N: I’M BACK!!!!! This part is an entire flashback.


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Prank Wars - 31 Days of Halloween

This is from my 31 Days of Halloween Writing Challenge, go check it out and send your request!

Request:  #66 with Sam and Dean involving the reader in one of their prank wars

Prompt: 66. That was evil.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 2,024

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex and demi-public sex, bondage and use of sex toys; heavy pranks and a bit of disgusting things as well.

A/N: I had a lot of fun writting this, although I’m not sure if I got out of hand with the pranks. I’m quite mean when it comes to pranks so it reflected on that. I hope it’s okay. Please remember requests are always open; also feedback, comments, suggestions, complaints, etc. are always very welcome.


Dean was standing right in front of the bunker’s door; he had a beer on his hand and a full view of the ground floor. His eyes were focused on the door that led to the basement, which was closed and it had a bucket full of icy water on top.

“What are we looking at?” Spoke Sam, standing behind Dean with a book in his hands.

“It’s just a… Wait, what are you doing here?” Dean turned around to face his brother.

“I was going to the library but…” Dean shook his head.

“I thought you were at the basement.” Dean said and Sam nodded.

“I was… But I left to my room by the other door. Why are you so stressed?” Sam asked.

“Well, that bucket full of ice and water was for you.” Dean explained.

“Oh, so we’re starting the jokes again.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Sam. It’s Halloween! I want to have some fun.” Dean exclaimed.

“Well, good luck next time.” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah… Wait, wasn’t (Y/N) with you?” Dean got serious again.

“Yes, she… Oh, no.”


Suddenly, a splash of water filled the brother’s ears; both of them snapped their heads towards the basement door which was now opened. You were right under it, covered in water, shaking. Sam and Dean ran to you.

“I’m so, so sorry. Babe, I promise it was for Sam.” Dean started apologizing. You were looking down, trying to ease your breathing.

“He’s an asshole but please don’t get mad.” Sam continued; both brothers looked like lost puppies.

“It’s just the stupid prank thing Sam and I do and… It’s a dumb game, I’m sorry, I love you.” Dean insisted. You lifted your gaze and meet your boyfriend’s, giving him a wicked smirk.

“Oh it’s on, Winchesters.” You said. Both brothers swallowed loudly, not knowing what you were capable of.

It started with a good ol’ wet bed prank.

Sam was fast asleep after a day of training with Dean. The poor hunter was too tired to even hear when you walked in, carrying a bucket of warm water. His hand was already hanging from the bed, which made your job ten times easier. You placed the bucket carefully, lifting his hand a little to make sure it didn’t get wet before time; then you let his hand in.

Needless to say, Sam had a rough awakening the next morning, when he realized he had wet the bed. Dean couldn’t stop laughing at his brother, who was now making the drama of his life.

“I told you it was on, Sammy.” You mocked, while he was putting his bed sheets inside the washing machine. He gave you a death glare.

“Dean is the one that got you wet.” Sam begun.

“As always.” Dean smirked, interrupting his brother.

“Whatever, it’s his fault. Why did you take it out on me?” Sam pouted.

“Oh Sammy, this is just a glimpse of what I can do. I’m planning something way worse on your brother.” You smiled. Dean opened his eyes widely and Sam nodded, satisfied to know his brother would get it worse.

“Wait, babe I said I’m sorry… You’re not going to do anything evil to me, right?” Dean muttered, giving you his version of the puppy eyes.

“Of course not, sweetie.” You replied sarcastically, “It’s going to be worse than evil.” You finished and without saying anything else, you left the laundry room.

“Dude, you’re screwed.” Sam chuckled.

“Shut up, wet pants.”

You let a couple days pass before your next prank.

You dared Dean to a chugging contest; he got really drunk, and you stood sober thanks to Coyote ugly. You led Dean to your shared room and made sure he was fast asleep before putting out some alcohol activated paints palette you found on a Halloween store.

You gave him the scariest clown face you could come up with, and then went to bed like you normally would. Since it was alcohol activated, nothing but alcohol would remove the makeup… Although, Dean didn’t have to know that.

The next day, Dean went straight downstairs for his morning coffee, not bothering in taking a look in the mirror. Sam woke up a few minutes after his brother, he walked downstairs and to the kitchen only to find his brother turning his back on him.

“Morning, Dean.” Sam spoke, opening up the refrigerator to look for something to eat.

“Morning, Sammy.” The older replied, he turned around and found his brother about to grab his favourite snacks. Dean left his coffee on the table and ran to his brother, slapping his hand away from the snacks. “Mine.” Dean said, Sam rolled his eyes and turned to look at his brother in order to argue, but he couldn’t. Sam was speechless. “What’s with you this morning?” Dean asked and Sam screamed, throwing his fists towards his brother’s face.

“Stay away from me, you bastard!” Sam cried. Dean furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his reflex in the bread toaster.

“She can’t be serious.” He muttered. Sam was almost fainted, still on the floor, trying not to cry.

“Morning, handsome.” You greeted, entering the kitchen with a mischievous smile. “Sammy.” You swayed your hips around the kitchen, trying not to laugh.

“We get it, you pranked both of us.” Dean rolled his eyes, and your smile grew wider.

“I did.” You said, “But I’m not done… I’m going shopping today, hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t… Shopping what? More makeup? Because, I’m sure you spent all of your on this masterpiece.” Dean said, gesturing a circle around his face.

“No, it’s a secret. But I bet you will like it.” You took a sip from Dean’s coffee and the left.

“Dude, we’re super screwed.” Dean said.

“It’s your fault.” Sam cried, avoiding his brother; he didn’t want to see the clown face anymore.

“Sorry… I’m going to wash this off and then we’ll go get somethings for our revenge, okay?” Dean suggested and Sam nodded.

A few minutes later, the loudest “son of a bitch” pronounced by Dean were heard all over the bunker. He had just found out that the paint couldn’t be washed off.

“That bitch!” Dean shouted.

“She’s your girlfriend.” Said Sam, covering his eyes.

“I’m dating a bitch.” Dean corrected. Although, the thought made him smile a little. “We will have our revenge, I promise.”

Their revenge was faster. As soon as you got home, Sam made sure your car’s door handle had a little surprise for the next time you used it; which was a few hours later.

Dean had convinced you to go buy some decorations for the bunker and you accepted happily. Both brothers followed you to the car and watched as you pulled the handle. A brown smelly, substance got all over your hand.

“What the hell is this?” You asked angrily, showing your hand to the brothers.

“Let’s just say you now have a handful of crap.” Dean laughed.

“Dog crap, actually.” Sam added. Both brothers had satisfied grins on their faces.

“YOU PUT DOG CRAP IN MY CAR?!?” You exclaimed, “I was going to stop the pranks but, you know what? You’re going to pay for this. Both of you!” You threatened angrily and left to the bathroom, wanting desperately to wash your hand, except that Dean had changed the liquid soap to oil. “DEAAAAN!” You screamed and both brothers appeared at the bathroom door.

“What is it, sweetheart? You can’t wash it off?” Your boyfriend chuckled.

“You’re a dead man… And so are you, Sam.”

For the rest of the week, you pulled all kinds of jokes on them.

You put itchy powder on the toilet paper, baking soda in the ketchup and salt in every single one of Dean’s drinks. You put food colouring in Sam’s shampoo, and honey in Dean’s face while he was taking a nap. You changed the water heat when Dean was showering, so it came out cold as ice and then you did the same to Sam. You took the screws out of every chair in the library, and then enjoyed the view as both brothers fell on each and every chair they tried. You also changed Dean’s coffee for soil and the sugar for salt, which resulted in the funniest breakfast ever.

“(Y/N), we need to talk.” Said Sam, leading you to the library.

“What is it, boys?” You asked innocently.

“We’re giving up.” Said Dean after sharing a look with his brother.

“Giving up?” You asked dumbfounded.

“Yes. You are the supreme queen of pranks, and we just want to spend the rest of October in peace.” Dean explained and you laughed.

“Guess the Winchester boys aren’t as tough as I supposed.” You laughed. Sam raked his fingers through his now pink hair and nodded.

“Truth is, we never had an opponent as… hard core as you.” Sam confessed and you sighed.

“So, no more pranks?” You asked and both brothers shook their heads.

“No more… Maybe until next year when we find a way to beat you.” Dean chuckled and you did two.

“I’m always two steps ahead, baby.” You winked and walked towards the boys, extending your arms to hug them both. “Well played, boys.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Dean said excited.

“Me neither.” You replied.

Dean and you were driving to the closest cemetery in town.  You had convinced him to go have a little “adventure” with you there and he didn’t have to think it twice.

“So, ready?” Dean asked once he was parked. He kissed your neck and caressed your leg.

“Wait, I want to do it outside.” You said, pulling him away.

“Like outside in…?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, “We’d be like college kids in Halloween… You know, getting the spooky experience and all.” Dean sighed and agreed.

You two went inside the cemetery walking over to a big tree that was in the back of the place. The two of you started making out; you pulled Dean’s flannel and shirt away, as well as his belt.

“Wait… I have something else.” You said, taking a big chain from your back. Dean didn’t even think it twice when you suggested tying him to the tree. “Now, you have ten minutes to get lose… Then we can go and have sex over one of the tombs.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Dean smiled.

“Yes, but that’s why you love me. Now remember, ten minutes.” You replied.

“You’re underestimating me. I can do it in three minutes.” Dean winked.

“Right, I forgot… There’s a little something else.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows as you took a little red button from your bag.

“What is that?” The hunter asked.

“A remote controller.” You answered, and before Dean could ask what it controlled you pressed it. Something between Dean’s legs started vibrating.

“What the…?”

“I told you, you would like it.” You smiled, remembering that shopping trip you had done a few days ago.

“We agreed… no more pranks…” Dean struggled to say.

“I know, but I spent a lot on this… I just couldn’t waste it.” You explained innocently.

“So… One… Last… Prank…” Dean shuted his eyes strongly, trying to supress his moans.

“Yeah, now good luck getting back home.” You kissed his cheeks and took the car keys from his pocket.

After three hours. Dean appeared on your shared bedroom’s door.

“I thought you could do it in three minutes, not three hours.” You laughed.

That was evil.” He said, walking to the bathroom to change his dirty clothes.

“Someone looks angry.” You observed innocently. Dean snapped his head back at you and smirked.

“Oh, no sweetheart. I’m not angry, I’m just impatient to see the look on your face when I get back to you.” And with that said, he closed the door.

“I’m screwed.” You whispered to yourself.

The two of you made sure to keep Sam away from your further pranks; and the night of Halloween you settled the war with a tie. You were now very anxious for next year.

Jesse and Genji for the daemon AU!


“So what’s your daemon supposed to be?” Dulce asks, the first time they meet Genji Shimada, and Jesse near-about dies on the spot.

The daemon in question bares its fangs, and even though neither it or Genji should have the strength to move, Jesse wastes no time in scooping up Dulce into the relative safety of his arms. “Shut up,” he hisses at her, and then to Genji, “I’m sorry, she ain’t got no manners.” 

“I’d say so,” Genji croaks, breath rasping out of his ruined throat. If looks could kill, Dulce’d be a little smear on the floor. 

“Sorry,” Jesse repeats, and beats a hasty retreat from the hospital room. 

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Imagine Charlie roping you into a new workout and getting some unexpected perks..

Originally posted by dont-bless-me-ive-sinned

So, I was watching one of Felicia Day’s The Flog videos where she learns pole dancing. (I love her.. and this is just fantastic..) This idea popped into my head and had to be written. 

Charlie pulled you through the hallways of the bunker and wouldn’t break her silence no matter how many times you asked where you two were going. Then finally, she stopped in front of one of the old storage rooms and opened the door.  Your eyes shot wide open. “Charlie.. what the hell is that?”

Charlie ran into the relatively dark room and grabbed one of the two shiny metal, floor to ceiling poles in the middle of the room and swung around it. Soft lights nestled in the ceiling above the poles were the only source of light in the entire room that you could see. “It’s awesome! It’s a legit workout thing now. And the classes..” Her eyes widened, “you have to be my wingwoman.. the women that work out there..” She wiggled her eyebrows and you couldn’t hide your smile.

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AUTHOR: freudensteins-monster
GENRE: Humour
FIC SUMMARY: Tom does the walk of shame.
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None. ladyaudiophile pointed me in the direction of the prompt. Unbeta’d.

Shit. Who the hell let me drink tequila? Whenever I drink tequila I dostupid things like booty call my ex. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I tucked my shirt into my pants in an attempt to look halfway decent before I grabbed my jacket and did a last minute sweep of my ex’s bedroom. Phone, keys, wallet… check, check, check. Shoes… shoes… I found one kicked under the bed and retraced our drunken, fumbling steps and found the second one sitting precariously on the stairs. Fully dressed, finally, I took a glance at myself in the hallway mirror – not a complete wreck but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that I’d had about two hours sleep and was wearing the same suit from last night (note the splash of appletini on my pants and the smudged makeup on my collar). I heard movement from upstairs and raced for the front door, trying to lock it behind me as quietly as possible. Not my proudest moment, I must say, but she’d understand. I hoped. She was recently single and on her second bottle of wine when I called. I’m sure she’d agree that if she had been sober she wouldn’t have let me come over. We didn’t work. We both knew that. We didn’t want to go through all that drama again. She’d understand. I hoped. Shit.

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Dark Souls

Summary: An vampire and a demon cross paths. Both souls emptier and darker than the night. Only craving lust and each other’s heat. This is not a love story…. but you can call this a ‘lust story’. 

Author: deanwinchester-af

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Katherine Pierce. 

Words: 900+

Warnings: Implied Smut. 

Song: Enjoy The Silence by Depeche Mode

A/N: I’ve been working in this for soooo long. This is not my original character, this is the real Katherine Pierce. The dark, selfish and great Katherine from TVD. You can say this is a crossover between The Vampire Diaries & Supernatural. Really hope you guys are into this and like it. This fic is inspired this gif set. 

There is not going to be a part two… y’all would understand why at the end.


Dean soul shifted into the darker and twisted version of himself. Dean Winchester wasn’t the same man anymore. Yet three needs could never change that person. The only  thing without changes were his needs: booze, music and women to fill the void inside him. Since Dean turned into something more, he’s been howling the moon. Drifting through different kinds of town, seeking their women and booze.

Words like violence

Break the silence

Come crashing

Into my little world

Painful to me

The base traveled through Dean’s body as he strolled into the semi full bar. He always have carried himself with confidence but this new version of him was overloaded by it. Crowley walked by his side, scanning the bar with his dull eyes. Meanwhile Dean’s attention was captured by a young female dancing on top of the bar. Everyone was staring at her moves and Dean wasn’t the difference.

Katherine swing her hips seductively as the track played. Her black heeled boots clicking through the bar as she had an Coyote Ugly moment without Tyra. Casually playing with her hair as she spin slowly. Her system mostly drowned in alcohol letting her feel free and without the urge of running for her life… At least for that night. Tonight she didn’t care about Klaus Mikaelson hunting her ass or the fact that she had the cure for vampirism in her hands. The only thing that mattered tonight was her needs…The only thing she ever cared about.

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Take Me Home- Bucky imagine

Ok guys its my first imagine in a while so I apologise if I’m a little rusty!

Bucky Barnes imagine-warnings of cute fluff and awkwardness!!

Originally posted by enochianess

Pour Some Sugar on Me. Your go to song. You slam back another tequila shot and climb onto the table. Steadying yourself, you point at Nat and Wanda whilst throwing your head back and shouting the lyrics. They’re both sat in fits of laughter watching you whipping your hair around and singing into one of many empty beer bottles lying around.
“You’ve seen Coyote Ugly way too many times (Y/N)!” Wanda shouts, clapping her hands. You wink at her, spinning around. Playfully you take off your leather jacket and shimmy it down your back, looking back giggling, you see Bucky stood next to Nat with a smirk on his face and your heart immediately starts pounding.
“Bucky! What are you doing here?” You grin and stumble off the table, Bucky catching your elbow so you don’t slip and fall on your ass.
“I called him, probably time we head off home before you show up any of the professional dancers in here.” Nat winks at you, out of all the guys she could have called, she had to call Bucky. She and Wanda know you’ve had a thing for ages and they’re constantly teasing you about it. You narrow your eyes at her and fling an arm around Bucky shoulder.
“I’m fiiiiine” you slur, sliding down Bucky’s side with a grin on your face. He laughs and steadies you, supporting you with an arm around your waist. Wanda shakes her head and she and Nat get up, putting their coats on and heading towards the door. You pout at Bucky and give him the puppy dog eyes, asking to stay for one more song.
“Time to go doll.” He smirks. You slump against him, defeated.
“Fine! Take me home Barnes!”  You start towards the door, trying to put one foot in front of the other.
“You ok there? Need a hand?” Bucky smirks, catching up to you.
“Bucky, I can manage. I’m seeing two of you, but I’m fine. In fact, I’m kinda liking two of you”. You wink at him and he shakes his head, a tint of red appearing on his cheeks. Inside you’re screaming at yourself. What the bloody hell did you say that for?! Sighing, he scoops you up and fireman lifts you to his car where Wanda and Nat are all too amused at the sight.

20 minutes later you’re back at the house. You’ve sobered up enough to be able to walk on your own so you head into the house with the others.
Nat and Wanda say goodnight, heading separate ways to their rooms.
“Bucky you better make sure she gets to bed ok!” Natasha shouts before closing her door.
He shrugs his shoulders and smiles at you as you pour yourself a huge glass of water. You already know it aint going to be pretty tomorrow. Bucky slings his cool metal arm around your waist, sending a shiver down your spine, and he guides you to your room and swings the door open. He leans against the door frame smiling to himself as he watches you stumble out of your shoes.
“Are you going to be alright?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.
You stick your thumb up to him. “I will be just fine Buck, I’m gonna take a shower” you say, heading straight into the shower cubicle.
“Uh (Y/N) your clothes are sti-“ he shouts a warning, but it was too late. There you were, still fully clothed, under the running water.
“uhmmmmm…oops” You start laughing and then sigh. You look at Bucky and beckon him. He walks over shaking his head and you lift up your arms for him to take off your dress.  He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed, not sure what you’re asking him to do.
“C’mon Buck, help a girl out.” You would never normally be so bold, but the alcohol has well and truly taken control. He blushes and looks back to the door. What you didn’t know is Bucky had a thing for you too. He’d always been kinda flirty but you thought he was just being nice. You also didn’t know he’d imagined this moment plenty of times before; removing your clothes, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder, up your jawline, onto your full lips. Although maybe when you were in a more sober state.
He smiles shyly at you and spins you around so your back is facing to him, he pulls your dress over your shoulders and can’t help but brush your bare back with his fingers. He clears his throat and leaves the bathroom and you climb back into the warm shower, smiling to yourself, blushing at the thought of his fingers on your bare skin.

After a long shower you feel slightly more sober and head back into your bedroom, Bucky nowhere to be seen. You scrunch your face, disappointed, and climb into bed with a fresh pair of pants and a baggy t shirt on. After a few minutes of lying there, you long for Bucky’s touch, as you have done for so many nights. How many times Nat and Wanda have told you to grow some balls and tell him you like him.
Without thinking, you swing your legs out of bed and head towards the door, trying not to make too much noise as you creep down the corridor to Bucky’s room. You take a deep breathe before knocking on his door.
“Bucky?” You whisper. “It me” He comes to the door after a few seconds and opens it wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, making your breathe catch in your throat and your heart pound.
“Are you ok? Something happen?” He asks, concern in his eyes, he opens the door fully and invites you in. He wraps his arms around himself, suddenly conscious of his bare torso.
“I, uhh, I can’t sleep. I just wandered if maybe..could you stay, with me?” You almost whisper, getting flustered. ‘What a stupid idea’, you think to yourself. ‘He’s going to think I’m so weird!’
“Uh yeah, of course” He smiles at you and ushers you into his bed. You pull the covers up and sit against the headboard, watching as he walks around and climbs in his side. You both slide down and lay on your sides. You take in his features, his cheekbones, and his stubbly jaw. You reach and stroke a finger down his jawline before you even knew you were doing it. His eyes fly up at you and you blush, whipping your hand back. He’s just as nervous as you are, but he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“(Y/N), I’ve got something to tell you that I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, but I don’t know how you’re going to react so if you don’t feel the same  please don’t feel bad I totally unders-“ He starts to say but you blurt it out first
“I really like you Bucky. Like, really like you.” Bucky smiles like you’ve never seen him smile before.
“Seriously?” He asks, and you say you’re in dis belief that Nat and Wanda haven’t made it totally obvious.  He laughs again and wraps his metal arm around your back, pulling you closer to him. You spend a few seconds just looking at each other before you yawn. Bucky smiles at you and places a hand on your cheek, pulling you in for a light kiss. You bite your lip and giggle to yourself. This was definitely not how you thought this night would go.

“Get some sleep doll, we’ll talk in the morning” Bucky says, and you wriggle down, head on his chest, legs intertwined, you take in his scent. He kisses the top of your head, playing with your hair until you both drift off to sleep. . @camila1818 @sour-wolf-91

Collide Prt. 3

Prompt: Riley Matthews is a struggling writer who works as a bartender to pay off her student loans. Lucas Friar is a rich kid from Texas who’s lost his way. One night fate brings them together causing their two different worlds to collide.
A/N: This chapter is mainly to give a little bit of backstory on Riley and its meant to be the lead up to her opening up to Lucas and explaining why she’s changed so much since high school. Obviously something went down between her and Maya which caused the switch in personalities. I also wanted to include her second guessing her initial judgement of Lucas. Hope this wasn't too boring. xo
Word Count: 2,070
Part [1] Part [2]

Part 3 - “Our Spot.”

I considered calling him but in the end I decided no good would come of it. No matter how charming or relentless he was we were still from two different worlds. He’s champagne and trust funds and I’m cheap beer and student loans.

Every so often I get a few days off and it just so happened that this week was the week where my presence wasn’t needed at work. We were over staffed for the weekend so Lou offered me a three day vacay and I took it.

Whenever I do have off I like to drive down to Connecticut and visit one of my oldest friends, Isaiah. He and I met in high school and got along straight away. He is probably the funniest person I’ve ever met. He’s witty and clever and always has the best stories. We had a short lived fling for a while but it was over before it ever really started. We both knew we were doing it for the wrong reasons and we also knew we were better off as friends.

I get the closest parking spot on the street than I can find and figure its best to just walk the rest of the way. Downtown New Haven is beautiful in the fall. It’s a thing New England is known for but it’s the beautiful architecture and small shops that surround the green that really make it pop.

Zay moved to CT right after graduation. He was a drama major at Southern State and after that he started performing in plays and productions of musicals. He was close enough to the city for him to commute if he needed to but he had his own little actor’s studio here and a loft right above where he lived. Big enough for just one with huge windows that overlooked the town square. It’s in my top 5 favorite places to be.

I walk in just in time to catch the ending of what sounded like Cell Block Tango. I stand quietly towards the back until they’re finished to avoid any interruptions. Once their rehearsal is over Zay spots me in the back and waves me over.

“Well if it isn’t Cotton Candy Face.” He chuckles, “C’mere you.” He pulls me in for a hug and I can’t help but sink into it. Sometimes you don’t know how much you need a hug from a friend until you get it. Nothing was wrong, it was just one of those days where you just don’t feel like yourself.

“I needed that.” I sigh when I finally let him go.

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Goodbye Shyness (Stand Alone)
  1. Anonymous said to 5minutefanfiction:

Could you do a stand alone where a shy reader gets hammered for whatever reason and acts crazy. Sam and Dean had never seen her like that before and they just have a fun time and making sure she doesn’t kill herself doing something stupid and saying silly things. Thank you! :)

AUTHORS NOTES: Hope it’s ok xx, I wasn’t sure what sort of crazy you wanted. ;p

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This Is What Goes Through My Head When I Edit My Own Writing

Who wrote this drivel?

Shit, it was me. It was me.

This thing reads like a fucking VCR repair manual. Is this even English? It’s got all the grace and elegance of a drunk girl puking in a potted plant at a frat party. It’s got all the speed and potency of an old man with a colostomy bag rolling clumsily down a shallow hill. It’s ugly like the winking sphincter of a sick giraffe. IT’S TURDS THE WHOLE THING IS TURDS AAAAAAGH FIRST DRAFT? MORE LIKE WORST DRAFT AM I RIGHT OR AM I RIGHT





*ten minutes of sobbing*

Okay. No. It’s cool. This is where the magic happens. The first draft is just me dumping all the puzzle pieces out. But it’s still a jumbled image. This part is where the art lives. This is when the story is smashed together, piece after piece. I can make it all make sense! I can polish this turd to a burnished, blinding sheen so bright it will blind the very heavens!

Thank all the gods and all the devils for good editors.

These notes are great.

Though they remind me how terribly inadequate I am.

But that’s fine. I’ve got a shaky flashlight. I can see the way forward.

Okay, see, yeah, all right, this part’s pretty good. And I thought it was terrible when I wrote it. Sweet. Nice. Yes. Gold star. Trophy. Triumph. Except, this other part I thought was awesome – that I need to be awesome — is clunky. Kludgey. I’m reading it and it feels like I’m chewing a piece of dry bread and cheese — it’s a hard slog and I can’t swallow it oh my god the reviews when this book comes out are going to murder my soul.

*shallow breathing*

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It’s all just pieces. Start big. Go little.

Every component just needs some attention. That’s easy. Take a wrench to this one. A hammer to that one. We fix things by breaking them. This is surgery.

Sometimes you stitch. Sometimes you chop off a limb.

Nice. Yes. Things are looking better.

I’m feeling good.

Moving along at a nice clip, now


*falls into it*

*breaks narrative ankle*


crap crap crap crap

This thing’s like a Sarlacc pit — a suppurating desert canker. You could lose a whole Rancor Monster in this thing. It doesn’t make sense. Where’s the logic? What was I thinking? Was I high when I wrote this? Did someone else write this? IS THIS A PRANK BY A TIME-TRAVELER? This doesn’t feel right. The character wouldn’t act this way. This doesn’t feel authentic to the time or the place or the scene or my writing or to ANY AND ALL OF REALITY shit shit shit poop crap fuck balls cocktaco jizzwich shimmering blumpy nuggets AAAAAAAAA

*takes 15 minutes to commune with the sparkly collective intelligence called ‘Twitter’*

*trades witty banter with other procrastinating writers*

*improves mood by four micrometers*

Oh! Oh my gosh. Look. If I just rewrite this one tiny paragraph, add a couple hundred words, it ties everything together! Ha ha ha! It’s like a little knot! Like I’m tying a shoe! That’s all, a quick loop and lace and here we are, all fixed, all tidy, we can start to run again and –

GODDAMNIT this thing is so delicate, so sensitive — I moved once piece and now ten other parts don’t make sense. I removed one little widget, one tiny flywheel and now the watch doesn’t tell the right time in fact it’s not telling time at all but instead broadcasting HONEY BOO-BOO in Portuguese by the love of sweet saint fuck aaaaaagh

*starts kicking holes in manuscript*

*takes an axe and starts chopping out whole paragraphs, chapters, characters*

*guzzles vodka and Red Bull*

*plays Xbox for a while*

*takes an angry nap*

*hastily rewrites destroyed sections*

These characters are stupid –

This plot is transparently bad –


I am inadequate as an author

Possibly as a human being

Nobody should let me near words again


theme what’s theme mood THERE IS NO MOOD this isn’t a story arc so much as it’s just a dead clown in the desert whose innards have been eaten by coyotes and whose gassy carcass is now the home of slumbering lizards everything is soggy and deflated and the tension is blown out like a nail-popped wheelbarrow tire and everything is falling out into the mud and the slurry

gazza booza fuzza wuzza


oh god help

hold up

what’s this now

hey wait

this section is pretty good

that section’s not bad either

man I kinda love this character

editing is rewriting is rewriting is rewriting

it’s better now than it was

that’s a good sign right?


maybe it doesn’t suck as bad

maybe it doesn’t suck at all


I’m doing it!

I’m editing it!

I’m turning a piece of lead into — well, not gold, exactly, but at least a reasonable facsimile of something that isn’t terrible! It’s amateur hour alchemy, motherfucker! it sucks less! I suck less! everything sucks less! I HAVE SUCKED THE SUCKITY SUCK FROM THIS SUCKY SUCKFEST



*cackles and weeps*

hardfeelingsmp3  asked:

prompt, if you want: jemma gets stood up by another girl at a bar but she can't even bring herself to care because a gorgeous girl named skye is singing there. even though her voice is amazing, she looks like she's never sung in public before. (in my original idea, skye is singing because she lost a bet to her friend who owns the bar, but you do do whatever you want with it!)

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