i wish i had cared about these characters when this first aired

Yuri on Ice 2017/02/11 all night event report

I’m back from the event and I’ll write a report before going to sleep, mostly because I’m sure I will not be able to decipher my scribbles when I wake up… It’s not the full talk show since you can’t record it and also I couldn’t possibly write down everything, but I tried to take note of most things, especially stuff that has never been mentioned elsewhere. In the end it became quite long so I guess I was able to get most of the stuff down…

Needless to say it’s my notes, so other people might write about parts I omitted, etc. To be honest quite a few of the things they said especially in the beginning, like what the seiyuu think about their characters, is something I’ve read so many times in interviews that I could almost answer in their place, lol… I was a bit disappointed that one of the questions that was answered is the one about Chris’ mysterious acquaintance, because actually Kubo answered that in Pash already (it’s in the Q&A part I’ll be translating later), and I hoped they would feature questions about stuff that hasn’t been explained yet. Well I guess not everybody reads interviews, but still…

Due to the format of the report you can find my comments here and there, mostly in brackets.
Under the cut because it’s long.

I forgot to mention something important: the ones participating in the talk show were Mitsurou Kubo, Toshiyuki Toyonaga (Yuuri), Junichi Suwabe (Victor), Kouki Uchiyama (Yurio).

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BTS Reacts - You Getting Very Sick For The First Time

Min Yoongi: He walks into the room with bags full of groceries, not realizing that you’re sitting in the living room. You silently watch as Yoongi unloads several plastic containers full of cooked food and fresh vegetables, unlike anything you’ve seen before. You weakly shift your body into a seated position, groaning in pain from the aching joints caused by your severe flu. He thought nothing of the first time you admitted your symptoms to him, dismissing it as a mild illness, but you had gotten progressively worse since - he’s already brought you to the doctor, and he definitely regrets not taking you sooner. He hasn’t seen you so ill before; he is more worried about you than he lets on, especially since the inaction on his part was guilt-tripping him. He’s taken the week off from work, just to do all he can for you. Regardless of his reserved nature, Min Yoongi always looks out for the people that he loves, and you’re number one on that list. When you make a fuss about him buying such expensive super-foods, he looks up at you penitently and tells you:

“Babe, just eat, okay? I just don’t like seeing you like this. You’ll recover quickly if you eat well.”

Jung Hoseok: You’re lying in bed, eyes half-open as you strive to make out what you’re watching on television. Hobi notices your unease right away; sitting by your bedside with his hands framed around your own. He can tell that you’re feverish from just holding your hand, but he gingerly sets his palm on your forehead for good measure – you’re burning up. You rub your eyes; watery from the heat. For the split moment that you can’t see Hoseok’s expression, his eyes become imbued with utmost worry. He can’t seem to take his mind off you, especially when he’s away. All he does lately is wonder if you’ve taken your meds, or if you’ve been getting enough sleep. Hobi truly does want to spend a couple nights at yours to take care of you, but he’s always getting pulled away by his jam-packed schedule. When you open your eyes, all you see is a radiant, optimistic grin from him. Until you ride this bug out, Hoseok would keep doing whatever he can to keep the beautiful smile on your face. He fronts a positive attitude, winking at you while sticking his tongue out.

“You can do it, jagi. I believe in you; you’re going to kick this fever in the ass!”

Kim Taehyung: You phoned Taehyung, telling him that you wouldn’t be able to make it for your date - which results in him deciding that you’ll have your date with him at home instead. When he drops by, the sight of you so sickly perturbs him. His expertise as an actor falls through his grasp - you can easily tell he’s trying to hold back his concern. Tae has never had to properly look after someone before, especially by himself - the boys around the dorm usually have it together when they fell ill. He doesn’t want to burden you with the worries of his own, so when he gets the urge to ask how you’re holding up, he purses his lips and stays quiet. He doesn’t want you to nitpick at your illness and spend every second thinking about it; he wants you to feel like you’re still on a regular date with him. The two of you are sitting by the window of your room, when you spot him constantly returning to the screen of his phone, distracted by something on it. When you ask him about it, he throws an unassuming smile your way, tearing his gaze away from his phone.

“Ah, it’s nothing, jagi. I’m just texting my grandma to see if she knows any good home remedies for you.”

Jeon Jungkook: Kook has seen you sick before, but no where near this level of weakness. When he takes you for a visit to a clinic, he sits beside you, thumbing at his own fingers in apprehension, waiting for the doctor’s diagnosis - the fever on you is from heat exhaustion. You convince your boyfriend that the illness will pass, it’s harsh but it’s nothing grave, so he is able to collect himself after hearing the vote of assurance in your voice. He knows there will be days when you’re not at your best, but having to actually experience those moments agonizes him. You’re always in top form when you’re with him, and just being around you contributes to his usual, spirited character - so, when you appear to be at your lowest, he mirrors your frame of mind, too. Jungkook tries to smile through his uncertainty, but he’s quick to check in on you every so often, catering to your every need when you haven’t even fathomed it yet. He seats you down on the couch, resting himself on the coffee table before you, examining your body language to see if you’re in pain.

“How are you feeling, baby? Do you need me to get you an ice pack? I’m right here, so just count on me, okay?”

Kim Namjoon: He firmly believes that you’ll recover in no time. Sure, he’s worried to watch you this sickly, but he knows there’s no use sitting on it and wishing for a speedy recovery, when he’s able-bodied enough to make that happen on his own. The both of you are spending time together in the living room - you’re reading a book, and he’s on his phone. He takes a brief glance out the window; it’s a beautiful day. When he sees you curled up in your blankets, nose stuffy from just being wrapped up all the time, he gently pushes your book away from your face. You give him a confused look, ‘What’s wrong?’, you ask him. There’s not a moment he doesn’t want to spend with you, in sickness and in health, all he wants is to spend each of those moments being happy - he doesn’t want to see you miserable when you’re with him. With a little nudge, he finally gets you to stop your reading, and he directs your attention to the great weather outside. Kim Namjoon would put effort into making you feel better himself, refusing to waste a second of your time together.

“Let’s go out and get some fresh air. You’ll feel better, I promise - you’re walking with me, after all. Remember to bundle up.”

Kim Seokjin: As someone who assumes the role of a caretaker in the dorm - Jin knows exactly what he’s doing, and he isn’t overly concerned when you fall ill, because he knows what to do to look after you well. The rate of your escalating heat is alarming, but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He feels sorry that you have to go through this - when he sees how uncomfortable you are, it only makes him want to attend to you even more - you’re afraid your illness is making him do more than he has to. He tries not to smother you by babying you - in fact, he lets you come to one of Bangtan’s shows, provided that you stay in the dressing room and keep cool. Namjoon and Taehyung keep still behind Seokjin, watching him treat you with nothing but tender, loving care. You haven’t been drinking much water - you didn’t feel like it because it irritated your throat. When Jin offers you a bottle, you shake your head. He tells you the next few words, tongue-in-cheek (which makes Namjoon chuckle lowly, and Taehyung turn away, nauseated!).

“Make sure you listen to me, and stay hydrated, okay? If you want to be naughty, do it on your own time.”

Park Jimin: Jimin would grow most uneasy when he sees you unable to function regularly. This Busan boy is usually pretty chipper and flexible when it comes to your free will, but he refuses to let you exert yourself when you’re this sick. When he sees you trying to stack plates into kitchen cabinets, he wails for you to give them to him instead. He catches sight of your pout and shoots you a stern look, silencing your dissatisfaction. Jimin knows he’s one of the younger members of BTS, but he doesn’t want you using that against him, to say that he isn’t able to be your cornerstone when you need it most. He just wants you to stay healthy, even if he risks upsetting you. You sulk for awhile, unable to be of much help. Later in the day, he finds you in the kitchen, trying to tidy up without him noticing - he quietly watches your every move, ensuring that you know your limits. He’s regretful that he had to put his foot down earlier. He sneaks up to you from behind, snaking his hand around your waist as he runs his other hand through your hair lovingly.

“Please just go lie down, jagiya. I’ll take care of everything, including you.“

I wish this react were real, because I’ll be needing someone to look after me - especially after getting viciously attacked by the Spring Day MV, smh. Thank you for requesting, anon, I hope you enjoyed this react!

You Love It

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: fluff, implied smut

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: This is the NINTH fic for my 6k celebration and one year fic-i-versary. The line requested was, “My god, you’re a freak.” It will be highlighted in the fic. The line was picked by the lovely @smoothdogsgirl Hope you enjoy this little blurb!

Tags at the end

Feedback welcome and appreciated

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Another Reason to Hate Witches

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,647

Warnings: ANGST OUT THE ASS….character death…

A/N: So once again I got bored yesterday and got in a severe angst writing mood. I’m sorry about this one but then again…I honestly don’t care lol thank you to @mamapeterson for the beta!!! Feedback is greatly appreaciated!!! 

Originally posted by mickybrainz

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i decided to wait until episode 8 had aired before i made a decision on how i felt about the last few episodes. there were so many great moments (not just good, truly great) and i love the show for every second of those–BAMF magnus, jace banter, maia (alisha steals every scene she’s in), luke’s protective streak, eme’s acting, alec coming into his own, simon’s story weaving in all of the characters….

and yet, here i am. “here” being this nebulous spot between frustrated and understanding the limitations of a show that features seven main characters. all seven of whom of i’ve grown to love in their own unique ways and want to see pieces of each of their stories just as much as the others. 

i can’t deny that i started watching shadowhunters because of magnus and alec, though. and episodes 7 and 8 have given me some of the best moments between them. harry and matt own every scene they’re in together. period. full stop.

so how did i end up “here?”

their first time together and magnus revealing his eyes to alec are two major events that were missing from show!canon. i had hope that both would be treated well by writers who have, so far, exceeded my expectations when it comes to magnus and alec. and yet, as i finished last night’s episode i couldn’t help but be disappointed by the writing. 

it wasn’t the lack of a morning after scene at the beginning of episode 8 that finally tipped me over the edge–it was the situation in which alec saw magnus’ cat eyes.

with one two-minute scene we could have seen magnus and alec in a pre-sex or morning after setup where magnus decides to let down the glamour for alec, and alec alone. no on-screen “sex” needed. that would’ve been even more intimate and personal than any sex scene. i can’t help but wish that, in this case, harry and matt had been given the material to show us those two events through alec and magnus’ experiences. instead we got fade-to-black, a conversation with jace, and magnus revealing those eyes in front of a woman he detests….


i can’t sugercoat it. in a show that has treated malec with such care until now, these two “firsts” were a complete and utter misfire. those are opportunities for show!canon that we’ll never get back.

i’m not pissed. im just beyond disappointed.


here i am. 

and if you know anything from following me, it’s that i’m cynical and sarcastic, but i also have a lot of gratitude and hope.

those misfires don’t dampen my enthusiasm to see what comes next. harry and matt consistently deliver portrayals of magnus and alec that are on point, emotional, and include details that make every second matter. i’ll still be in front of my tv next monday at 8pm excited about what comes next.

and until then…

in the iconic words of ruelle, where do we go from here? well, there’s nothing in show!canon that says (yet) that was actually the first time alec saw magnus’ eyes. and there’s nearly nothing to go on for their first time together. so, as for me, i’m going to be writing. and i hope you are too.

‘cause this is what fandom is for.

we develop new worlds. branch off into alternate timelines. we fix shit

go forth and create.

Inherit the Stars

“Creativity has been banned for years.” He points out, “They won’t understand the message behind our art.”

You let out an airy laugh in disbelief, “Who’s ‘they?’”

“Anybody who isn’t us.”

Synopsis: It isn’t a natural feeling, it never will be; and you refuse to accept it — the fact that art and creativity has been frowned upon society for ages. To be an artist in a society where imaginative thought is banned is risky, but to invoke creative thinking among others is a death wish. Though despite all of this, you meet a man whose eyes you have opened to the true beauty of the world, one who defends you with white lies that only turn to black in the end.

Originally posted by jjks

Pairing: police!Jungkook x artist!Reader (dystopianSociety!AU)

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 19.1k

Includes: character death, smoking mentions, use of guns

A/N: :))) semi-suggestive stuff included

re-upload from my old writing blog!

Curiosity leads to creativity; and curious, you were. You had always been an eager child despite the education system and adult peers nagging every being about the “dangers” of art and imagination. You doodled your first picture at age six, picked up your first paint brush at seven, then fell in love with the world of art at age thirteen. Though, your talents were worth not even a penny in your society- the society where art and creativity was banned because the new leader felt as if it threatened the original set of laws.

It was during your fourth summer when society took a sharp turn, the transfer of power towards the next ruler was the most memorable yet devastating event to take place. The bright world filled with many gates of colorful opportunities that people once knew closed and faded to grey. Words of the people were no longer weapons used by the government, their power was and oh, how they abused it. With that, you learned something while growing up. By watching those around you- those you love- get battered by the enforcers of the strict set of new laws, you learned that the lesser people talk- the lesser they will hurt.

Those who challenge or has inventive thought by doing any form of art are killed, sent to jail, or booted from the city and sent beyond the walls; luckily for you, you live in the wide attic of your aunt’s passe diner, free to create anything and everything you want without much suspicion.

“Y/N!” Calls your aunt from the busy diner kitchen below, “Can you take care of the incoming customers? We’re starting to get packed.”

“Okay,” you attempt to reply, but it comes out incomprehensible due to a paintbrush resting between your teeth.

Your aunt exerts a grunt, already tired from the flood of customers, and throws her rag on the metal counter, “Y/N!”

You roll your eyes and spear your paintbrush in hand through the dirty water filling up the glass that holds all of the others. “Coming!”

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About Time // Part 7

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Type/Genre/words: Angst, Alternate Universe (Time Travel!au, Soulmate!au), Smut / 14,858 words

Character: Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. BTS)

Prompts: “What if you find your soulmate… at the wrong time?” - Lauren Kate, Passion

Summary: Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

Warning: this part has a smut scene ;)

a/n: in this fic/series I made the characters to have similar ages, and not completely the same as their real age. So technically Jungkook, Jimin and the OC all have the same age. Just a little fyi in case you are confused with the timelines.

Originally posted by won-der-land89

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You Really Got a Hold On Me

Originally posted by hardyness

Request: “ Can you do one where the reader is kylo’s girlfriend or wife or something is a teacher to the children on base but she has KYLIE wrapped around her finger and he does anything she says and stuff like that. Just fluff I guess”

Summary: Kylo, who is put into an arranged marriage by his consent to the princess of an overthrown planet, finds himself slowly having a change of heart. Though he is still the brooding and fear striking Commander of the First Order, he finds that over a span of time he has somehow grown a soft spot.

A/N: Ok, not gonna lie, fluff is actually really hard for me to write haha, it’s just not entirely my thing. That being said, in terms of Kylo Ren the true character, this is pretty floofy for him. It’s also kinda inspired by some floof @primma-dona sent me when I was feeling down, so thanks for that! Hope you enjoy!

With forceful and heavy thuds echoing through the air, Kylo marched his way through the various halls of the brand new First Order base. His broad shoulders were held stiff and high as they faintly shifted with every step he took, his fists clenched at his sides. The entirety of his appearance exuded his growing impatience with this day as well as his unquestioned physical strength. Though most days his robes concealed his physique, his brooding posture and walk did him justice.

Despite their growing recovery from the destruction of Starkiller, the First Order still had days as scrambled as this, still had to deal with the Resistance just as they had before. No matter how much territory they gained or alliances they formed, the Resistance never seemed to diminish in the slightest. 

The stress was high on this particular afternoon, given the renewed efforts of the Resistance to tamper with the Order’s newest location. Given just how advanced the base was in terms of innovation, it was more than a saught after target. Much like today, Kylo was pulled from his preferred tasks in order to deal with yet another prisoner, hoping something would be divulged to his advantage. 

Stopping before one of the many cell blast doors, Kylo huffed out a deep breath as he turned to the two troopers standing guard. Both troopers bow their heads faintly as they keep their hands on their blasters.


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dragon age starters

feel most free to change pronouns ,  etc .

❝ it doesn’t matter that they won’t remember me. what matters is i helped. ❞
❝ bad things should happen to bad people. ❞
❝ i’m here to set things right. also ? to look dashing. that part’s less difficult. ❞
❝ planning has never been my strong suit . now, killing…killing & love-making. those i am better at. ❞
❝ oh ! we could get matching outfits ! ❞
❝ i’m not saying i should be your first pick for a dance partner at the ball , but in the deep roads , i’m your man / woman. ❞
❝ draw your weapon & say that again ! ❞
❝ we’re here to kill them all, yes ? for sport ? ❞
❝ you tend to get up to interesting things. you meet interesting people & then you kill them. ❞
❝ i never worry, darling. a leash can be pulled from either end. ❞
❝ it’s like you need permission to be alive. ❞
❝ has anyone told you what marvelous eyes you possess, my dear ? ❞
❝ have you ever licked a lamp post in winter ? ❞
❝ i’ll try not to hit anyone. ❞
❝ there you are. everyone’s been looking for you. ❞
❝ the last man standing gets final say on who is right or wrong. ❞
❝ i like my hair the way it is, thank you. ❞
❝ do you think about how to kill everyone you meet ? ❞
❝ are you… sassing me, ____? ❞
❝ yes, but she/you seems more… “ooh, pretty colors !” than “muahaha ! i am princess stabbity ! stab, kill, kill ! ❞
❝ congratulations ! you have found a wastebin . ❞
❝ what are you going to do with that sword ? ❞
❝ not listening ! la la-la la la ! ❞
❝ i saw you looking at the girl/boy in town earlier . ❞
❝ anyone wishing to accuse me of weakness is welcome to try. ❞
❝ …did you cut your own hair ? ❞
❝ ”one by one they follow, drowning in the sea”. the rest of the poem is sad.. ❞
❝ you aren’t all stone, ____. there is a person inside of you. ❞
❝ we crush the heads of rude women when we feel like it. just so you know. ❞
❝ protect what matters with everything you have, or you’ll have nothing, and deserve it. ❞
❝ i want you to know that what we had was real. ❞
❝ in the end you are always alone with your actions. ❞
❝ somebody’s been drinking. ❞
❝ let’s show them our hearts, and then show them theirs.. ❞
❝ do you feel that ? my magic-sensing nose is tingling. ❞
❝ well, shit. ❞
❝ you worry me, you know that ? ❞
❝ i’m cold. & it’s indoors. this is so wrong. ❞
❝ i saw what you were doing back there. ❞
❝ we will never speak of this again. ❞
❝ you’re a big softie ! ❞ 
❝ i’ve got just the thing to cure that pout. ❞
❝ eight, nine, now you die. ❞
❝ daughters never grow up. they remain six years old with pigtails & skinned knees forever. ❞
❝ i don’t need my pants, anyway. ❞
❝ smiles. we must be careful how we present ourselves. ❞
❝ be careful what you wish for. power is treacherous. i have seen many people–great leaders–consumed by it. ❞
❝ don’t touch me ! stay away ! ❞
❝ i think of him/you/her as much as he/you/she thinks at all. ❞
❝ i knew nothing of friendship before we met. ❞
❝ you can approve or not approve as you wish, but this is one thing you cannot influence and mold to your liking. ❞
❝ there you go, breaking my heart. ❞ 
❝ does anyone else feel the verge to vomit? ❞
❝ i…love you. just… wanted to tell you that. ❞
❝ let those who would destroy us step into the light. ❞
❝ it’s dangerous when too many men in the same armor think they’re right. ❞
❝ if you love a character, you give them pain, ruin their lives, make them suffer. maybe even throw in a heroic death. ❞
❝ i do quite like watching you leave. ❞
❝ send him a fruit basket. everyone loves those. ❞
❝ did i stutter ? ❞
❝ are you kidding ? i’m surprised you didn’t kill anyone just coming over here. ❞
❝ the world may want my time, but you have my heart ❞
❝ have you ever heard the saying ‘let sleeping abominations lie’?  now would be the time to consider it. ❞
❝ that sounded much better in my head . ❞
❝ i have an excellent sense of dramatic timing. & good hair.  ❞
❝ the air hurts. i have to stop. ❞
❝ challenge someone to arm-wrestle me. ❞
❝ so, you’re not like a lot of other girls/boys. ❞
❝ not long ago this was impossible to imagine. you, the man i love, victory close at hand. ❞
❝ how do you do that ? make everything better with a smile ? ❞
❝ it gets no easier. your struggles have only just begun. ❞
❝ there comes a time when you must stop running, when you turn & face the tiger.  ❞
❝ it’s family, you protect. doesn’t matter who it is, blood or not. ❞
❝ perhaps we should carve our names into the giant tree ? ❞
❝ hey ! that’s mine ! ❞
❝ our mistakes make us who we are. ❞
❝ fear makes men more dangerous than magic ever could. ❞
❝ don’t let anyone tell you when to move on. take their hand & say, “my choice". ❞
❝ words are easy, like the wind; faithful friends are hard to find. ❞
❝ shitballs. fuck. shit. crap. ❞
❝ living a lie … it festers inside you, like poison. ❞

Feverish || Dick Grayson x Reader

I’m really sick right now and have been reading dick grayson and peter parker stories to keep me company 。゚(TヮT)゚。

this is the first time i’ve ever written for a dc character, so if it turns out a little “meh”, and is ooc, forgive me.

Warnings: none, tho my style of writing may be a little off since I’m running a lowkey fever while writing this.

**dont repost/plagiarize this story.**


You were so sick; your whole body was aching and you felt the sweat collect all across your feverish body. You moan and bury yourself deeper into your bed, trying to ignore the incessant vibrations coming from your phone.

You knew that it was your boyfriend checking on you, but you were honestly too weak to move. Even the slightest movement such as tilting your head toward your nightstand was enough to make a wave of nausea go through you.

There was a special kind of hell that came with getting sick in the middle of summer. The hot days became nearly unbearable against your flushed skin, and the fact that your air conditioning was practically broken certainly didn’t help with your situation.

Because of this, you were bedridden with the window to your room wide open. The cool and refreshing winds that blew during the night was soothing for you, and you sigh in a deeply content manner at feeling something cold against your heated skin.

Your throat was parched when you groan, forcing yourself to sit up while steadying your shaky body to the best of your abilities. Looking to see the tall glass of water settled on your nightstand, you drink the rest of the warm water, shakily placing the glass back on the table. You could feel your body getting weaker since you hadn’t eaten anything since last night, but this fever was honestly ruining your appetite.

You honestly wanted to cry. It seemed impossible for you to get better, and you wanted desperately for your boyfriend to come and take care of you-

But you didn’t want to burden him, or worse- make him get sick because of you.

This is what prompted you to ignore all of his texts and calls. You knew that you would get over this fever eventually, so long as your body decided to stop hating you.

While you had your face buried within the palm of your hand in hopes of lessening the ache against your temple, you heard a sudden movement coming from your window. Looking toward the source of the sound, you let out a gasp at seeing Nightwing enter your bedroom.

He looks at your haggard form through his mask and gently calls out your name, “Darling, you look awful. Why didn’t you tell me that you were sick?”

“Wha- wha- what? My- my n-name, how you…know it?” Your fever was definitely making your mind feel a little woozy. Why else would you suddenly conjure up image of the hot vigilante of Gotham City in your room?

Despite how you were 75% sure that this was a fever dream, something about Nightwing felt very real to you. When he joins you in your bed, you felt the mattress actually dip down with his added weight as he places his gloved hand on your face, “Ssssh, don’t speak. You sound awful and your whole body is burning up.”

His touch seems to linger on your skin, and you had to slap his hand away before telling him with a slur, “Hands off meeeee!! I have a very handsome boyfrieeend and he could kick your ass!!”

Nightwing was not fazed by your words, seeming to find great amusement in them when he lets out a chuckle, “Oh believe me, I know about you and your boyfriend.”

He finally gets off the bed, running a hand through his jet black hair while you respond, “Good! Because Dick Grayson is a fucking god and I love him so fucking much!!” Just thinking about your boyfriend made tears form against your eyes when you begin to whine to Nightwing, “God, I really wish Dick was here right now so that he could take care of me and spoil meeeeeee. Ugh, I feel so sick!! But at the same time, I don’t wanna be a shitty girlfriend and get HIM sick!!”

Nightwing lets out a tiny chuckle, “Don’t worry babe, that’s why I’m here.” He playfully ruffles your hair before stepping out of your room, seeming to know the way to your kitchen when you heard some noises coming from it.

After waiting for ten minutes, Nightwing finally returns to your room with a tray containing a steaming hot bowl of soup, some medicine, and a glass of water. He sets the tray on the nightstand and holds the bowl of soup, “Here, you need to eat before taking your medicine. I’ll feed you.”

The soup smelled delicious, yet you were hesitant to allow Nightwing to feed you because he wasn’t Dick. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

You could tell that he was rolling his eyes at you, “Well your boyfriend is busy right now and can’t take care of you, so I have to.”

“Don’t talk shit about Dick!”

“I’m not talking shit, I just want you to let me take care of you!”

“You’re an ass-” A spoon filled with lukewarm broth cuts off your words, and you practically moan at how good the soup tasted against your tongue. It wasn’t too heavy and the warmth felt heavenly against your empty stomach.

No longer arguing with Nightwing, you allow him to feed you, and you end up finishing the soup in just a few minutes. Feeling a bit better with some sustenance in your system, you wipe your moist lips with the back of your hand and look up at Nightwing, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The handsome hero was smiling now when he takes out two pills for you. Holding out the green gel tablets with the glass of water in his other hand, you see Nightwing lift his eyebrow in question, “So can you be a big girl and take these by yourself, or do you need my help?”

You manage to glare at him weakly for teasing you, “I can t-take them!” You hold out a hand to him, making him drop both tablets on your hand. Placing both pills in your mouth, you take the glass of water from his hand and take a big gulp from it-

Only to have both pills come out of your mouth as you choked a bit on the water. Several painful coughs came out of your mouth, causing Nightwing to let out an exasperated sigh at your antics. “You idiot, you’re supposed to take them one at a time.”

He takes the pills and glass of water from you, shocking you when he places the pills in his mouth before drinking the water. Leaning down, he grasps at your chin with his strong hand before suddenly kissing you. Your gasp was all he needed to transfer the pills and copious amount of water into your mouth, helping you swallow the medication when he moves the pills and water down your throat with the tip of his tongue.

With the medication finally in your system, you pull away from the sort of kiss to shyly look at Nightwing with a blush on your face, “Y-You kiss like my boyfriend does.”

His chuckle was filled with an unbidden mirth, “Is that so? Your boyfriend must be quite the lady’s man, then.”

“He is, but he promised me that he was mine and mine alone.” You let out a sleepy yawn, feeling your eyelids turn heavy when you continue, “Shit, Richard’s gonna be so mad at me when I tell him Nightwing kissed me. I gotta be truthful or else he’s gonna break up with me…”

“He won’t be too mad at you. I just helped you take your medicine.” Nightwing then coaxes you to lie down, throwing the blankets around your form before placing a kiss against your forehead, “Now sleep, sweetheart. And get better soon.”

You were close to dozing off when Nightwing stepped toward your window, ready to jump out of it when you hoarsely called out to him, “Nightwing?”

His back stiffens at the sound of your voice, “Yes?”

“You remind me…of Dick Grayson. I love him so much…”

He chuckles and looks back at you, “I love you too, [Name].”

Before you could ask him why he loved you, Nightwing was long gone as he escaped from your room through your window. His words made your cheeks heat up, and you found yourself falling asleep with a smile on your face.

Whether this was all a fever dream or not, you knew that this night would be an unforgettable one for you.


anonymous asked:

Ok, I'm absolutely in love with your persuasion au. I didn't know how much I needed something like this until I read it. It's a treasure. Thank you SO MUCH for it! Can I ask you why do you ship rebelcaptain? as a deep question, I just want to read your thoughts about them 'cause you write so well

First, thank you for the compliment on my Persuasion AU! I’m glad you like it! And I’m going to get working on the next chapter of it now that I’ve written this 1,400+ word treatise I wrote on rebelcaptain because of your question lol.


Diego Luna and Felicity Jones have and had amazing chemistry as Jyn and Cassian. The eye contact, the lack of personal space, and the passion they conveyed as their characters with and without words was really impressive. Even when Jyn and Cassian were arguing and angry with one another, you got the sense that they fought as they did because the other person mattered. Their arguments are never about romance, but they were about the important basics of any relationship, romantic or platonic: truth, trust, faith, belief, and how you choose to act (or whether you choose to act at all).

But their chemistry isn’t just sexual or romantic. They also have chemistry as a battle duo. They work together well almost instantly. When she’s sporting for a fight on Jedha, he knows exactly when to pull her back. When a Partisan bomb is about to blow her to bits, he saves her—it’s not a question. On Scarif, they seem in sync the whole time from when she gives her speech to when they die together on the beach. They don’t question the other because there’s implicit trust and they seem to instinctively understand that what the other person is doing is the right or best way. They’re on the same page if you will.

Individually and Individuality

I love them as individual characters. They are my murder son and my murder daughter.
They both have defined and deep character arcs in the movie, and they grow because of it. They act as catalysts for the other for the change to come. They grow because they met each other, and they do so in the platonic sense.

Jyn’s forced herself into apathy because she’s been hurt, abandoned, and traumatized by “the cause” and the battle between the Rebels and the Empire. She lost both her parents. She was abandoned by her foster parent. She was stripped of anything that ever felt safe, that felt like home. The passion and fight intrinsic to her personality was temporarily snuffed out. She’s given so much but what has she gotten back but misery? She now only fights for herself. But meeting and knowing Cassian reawakens that passion and drive in her. The catalyst moment is when he gives her his trust on the U-wing to Jedha, and it builds from there. He pushes back against her resistance, and where others may have not cared enough to do that, he does, and that fight wakes her up again. Then he offers her a home and a family in him (and Kaytoo, Baze, Chirrut, and Bodhi). Thet cause, which has only taken from her, has given her something back. It has given her people she cares about and who care for her to fight for.

For Cassian, after 20 years of war, I think part of what traps him in this prison of his own making is that he feels like he’s fighting for abstractions now. He’s lost everything and everyone he cares about. There’s only the cause, and it’s made him do terrible things that have been cutting him into little pieces. But then he meets Jyn, and she’s not an abstraction. But it’s not love or love for her that acts as a catalyst for his change: it’s her inner fire. I think he sees in her what he used to see in himself. It reminds him of what he’s fighting for, in part, too, because he sees the tremendous losses she has also suffered at the hands of the fight. In her push to go to Scarif, she also gives him a specific way he can justify everything he has done as a soldier. And like it is for Jyn, I think Cassian finds himself now with people he cares for specifically, people for whom he fights (aka the found family he has personally collected over the course of a week).

Complementary Personalities

I like the idea of opposites attract, but I love more the idea of complementary personalities who share a lot of similarities. I think Jyn and Cassian fit this bill. They’re both orphaned child soldiers (essentially). They’re both passionate fighters. They are iron-willed, confident, resolute, and strong people. They’re different enough, though, that they can balance the other out.

They are complete people when they meet—there’s no need for one to “complete the other”; it’s rather like I argue above, that parts of them have gone dormant, and meeting each other brings them back to life; they fill in the cracks.
And they are equals. There’s no power differential. Sometimes he takes lead. Sometimes she does. They’re a team. It’s beautiful.


The intimacy between these two characters scrambles my brain, to be honest. The first time I saw the movie, it didn’t hit me until late (HI, ELEVATOR SCENE), but it hit me hard when it did. The intimacy in that elevator scene goddamit it—it made everything click for me. Not just the shipping but like, the wholeness of their character arcs. They are both initially cast as loners who guard themselves really closely from others—from affection, from attachment, from any ties to another living thing. But in that elevator scene, it’s all there flashing in their faces. For the first time, Jyn looks soft and lost as he stares at him in the darkened space, a whole future they won’t get to live flashing before her eyes. For him, he looks at her like she’s the only person in the galaxy that matters, and for him too, it’s colored by this sadness of what if. How long has it been since he’s been touched like this? When was the last time he had someone he could love before now?

With the idea of intimacy, too, I would argue that they both let their guard down around one another in a way they don’t with anyone else. Cassian is supposed to be this cool-headed, seasoned solider and spy, but he meets Jyn and is almost immediately running around, disobeying orders, screaming her name, saving her at all cost to his own life and to the cause. Maybe this is how he’s always felt about things, but he’s been able to push it all down before. He can’t with her. She’s triggered something in him that makes him feel. Jyn can also read him like no one else can. He’s an open book in her hands.

And for Jyn, because he’s shown her the first semblance of trust in years, the fact that he just refuses to ever leave her behind, opens her up. Even with Saw, she puts on this air of “don’t care” (“It’s not a problem if you don’t look up”). Again, the personal space issues! The touching and closeness (she touches his arm when they get the clearance to enter Scarif; she notes how he smells [of blaster oil and Eadu dirt]; elevator, beach, he’s the most beautiful person she’s ever seen etc etc.).

He makes her care about someone again because he cares for her. If you watch the scene on the beach when they hold hands—note how Jyn reaches for his hand first. But when she does, it’s tentative and unsure. He senses her hesitation and then he reaches out and takes it.
And the hug to end all hugs. I can’t even.

Unrealized potential

With most of what I ship, it’s usually the unrealized potential that sets my brain on fire. I love a good established couple (Baze and Chirrut) but because they seem to have had their happiness or their happy ending, it doesn’t tug at the heart strings as hard. I don’t actively ship because I don’t have to wonder. To quote one of my favorite shows, Veronica Mars:

Veronica: Come on. Ruined lives? Bloodshed? You really think a relationship should be that hard?

Logan: No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.

And I still contend that I’d ship them just as hard if they had survived and the ending of Rogue One hadn’t given us an explicitly romantic ending (kissing, declarations) because it would still be unrealized potential. Their deaths just make it more tragic and force more sad whale noises from my mouth.
Dues to Be Paid || Soonyoung || Oneshot

Originally posted by visual-17

Word Count: 2346

Genre: oneshot, drama, angst, fluff

Summary: There was a lot of unresolved animosity between him and you but for some reason, on the day he should be happiest, he missed you and he wished that you were by his side. (A/N: Based on the old series Dues to Be Paid that I deleted. Hopefully this will provide a nice, cushioned conclusion to the uncompleted series.) 

There was a buzz in the air that permeated throughout the club. It came from the lights, the music, the alcohol, and the dancing and it seeped into people’s bodies, making them forget who they were and giving them the adrenaline and courage to do things they wouldn’t normally though.

Keep reading


Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester

Relationships: Dean Winchester×Reader

Word count: 3982

Warnings: Smut, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Sex on Baby, Outdoor Sex (there’s nobody around though), Kissing, Biting, Teasing, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Dom!Dean, Dom!Reader, Rough sex, Mechanic!Dean, EXPLICIT GIFS AND PICS

Summary: Dean is working on Baby and the Reader joins him to keep him company, but things get a little more heated than expected.

Notes: Okay, so…this happened *grin* Let me know what you think about it guys, and as usual, enjoy! *kisses* FORGOT TO TELL YOU, THIS IS A THANK YOU TO ALL OF THE 500 AMAZING CUTIES THAT FOLLOW ME, LOVE YA, GUYS! ♡♡♡♡♡ Also, I know the gifs don’t really fit the plot perfectly, but it was the best I could find

DISCLAIMER: the gifs and pics are NOT mine

Tags: None


You yawned, pulling the tank top down your stomach, before you grabbed a pair of the shortest shorts you owned and wore them.

It was hot as hell lately, and while you knew Sam would be gone for the day; you also knew that Dean was still wandering around the bunker, which meant you had to put on something.

Walking down the hall, you immediately decided to put your hair in a high ponytail cursing the way it stuck to your skin, managing to make you feel even hotter than you already did.

Usually the bunker’s temperature kept a bearable level, and you just couldn’t stand how the air conditioning had decided to break down exactly during the hottest week of August.

The first thing you did when you reached the kitchen, was grab a freezing bottle of water and gulp it down; you knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, since you’d just woken up, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t feel like eating, so you just took a fruit and wandered around the bunker to find Dean. You’d looked everywhere but you couldn’t find him, until you realized he was probably outside working on Baby.

“Hey!” He lifted his head as your voice reached him over the music blasting from the Impala’s speakers, “Oh, hey! Still can’t cope with the heat, huh?” He eyed you up and down, subconsciously licking his lips.

“Yeah, I can’t understand how you do it, man! I feel so hot, I’m suffocating” Your fingers pulled at your tank top, trying to unstick it from your heated body.

‘Oh, you are hot, alright. So damn hot!’ He smiled at his thought, wishing he could just tell you what he was really thinking about you, “Hang on in there, Sammy’ll fix the a.c. as soon as he’s back”

You nodded, smiling to him as you walked towards where he was standing, “So, how’s your patient doing?” He gave you a dirty look to which you just chuckled; you loved to tease him, especially about Baby.

“It’s not funny, (Y/n). She’s been doing some weird noises and I will find out what’s wrong with my sweetheart” As much as you loved to tease him, you couldn’t help but admire his love and commitment towards his car.

“I know you’ll figure it out, you always do” A proud, smug grin appeared on his face at your encouragement and you patted his back, feeling your heart race at how sexy he looked under the hood.

“Uhm, do you need some help? I’m not an expert, but I can follow instructions” A pretty vivid image of you following his instructions popped in Dean’s head, the only thing was that they weren’t about fixing Baby, and the both of you were wearing far lesser clothes.

“Uh…no, it’s okay for now, I’ll let you know if I need something” You nodded, and he turned to flash you a cute, little smile, “Won’t turn down your company, though” He accompanied the statement with a wink, and you smiled, sitting on the cooler.

Not even ten minutes had passed since you’d sat down, that your mind was already clouded with fantasies involving the elder Winchester. Your eyes were following the rippling muscles of his back, moving under the thin layer of his gray, fitting t-shirt.

His broad shoulders attracting your attention, before it was drawn by his strong arms. You fantasized about gripping and digging your nails into his biceps, as his lips kissed down your neck, making you sigh in pleasure.

Your cheeks turned red when you realized you had indeed sighed, and you thanked God that Dean didn’t seem to notice. Your hands fanned your face, as you tried to compose yourself at least a little.

‘Seriously, (Y/n)? C'mon, get it together, he’s just a man! A very handsome, sexy, hot, strong man…’ You were sure if you’d been a cartoon, you would’ve had heart eyes at the moment, but you brushed it off and got up.

You opened the cooler and, just as you were expecting, you found some nice, cold and inviting beers; you grabbed two and walked to Dean, “Beer?”

He lifted himself up from under the hood, and swiped his hand across his forehead to clean the small droplets of sweat that had formed there. Some grease stained his face, and you giggled, cleaning it off yourself.

He laughed with you, cleaning his greasy hands on the rug he had been using, and you handed him his bottle, “Thanks, sweetheart” Shivers ran down your spine at his husky, smoky tone and you smiled, nodding and opening your bottle.

Your lips touched the cool glass, and you gulped down some of the refreshing liquid, sighing in relief. Dean on the other hand, hadn’t even opened his beer yet, he was too focused on you to be able to think straight.

He watched your lips, envying the bottle, wishing it was his lips touching yours instead. He knew they would feel great on his; he remembered how soft and plump, and just perfect they’d felt each time you’d pressed them to his cheeks.

His eyes then moved down, following the curve of your neck. He wondered how you’d react if he kissed and licked every inch of it; how you’d look if he took his times and marked you up, making sure everyone knew you were his and his only.

He was about to let his eyes scan the rest of your body, when you spoke and his eyes snapped up to lock on yours, “This is the best thing ever” He cleared his throat and smiled, “Yeah…totally”

Dean didn’t know if you were aware of the effect you had on him; didn’t know if you’d noticed the way he stared at you, or purposefully brushed your skin every time he had the chance, but he sure as hell hoped you hadn’t.

He flirted with you, every single second since you’d met, and you always flirted back, but you did the same thing with his little brother, so he guessed you weren’t really interested in him.

Everything you did was driving him crazy: your laugh, your voice, the way you bit your lip when focused on something, or your little affectionate touches for him and his brother, your scent, even your walk was too much to bear at times.

Just like now for example, as he watched you swaying your hips, the same hips he’d fantasised on gripping so many times; as he stared at your ass confined in those tight shorts of yours; the only thing he could think about was taking you right there and then.

You turned around then to sit back on the cooler and Dean was glad that he’d placed it close enough for him to still be able to see every single detail of yours.

You smirked at him, and he didn’t know if you’d guessed what he was thinking about or what, but he didn’t care because that smirk you shot him, had to be the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

He swallowed the dryness in his mouth, if he wasn’t feeling hot earlier, he definitely was now. You tipped your head back, bringing the bottle back to your lips and he almost, almost groaned at the sight.

A drop of the condensed water fell on your collarbone and he licked his lips as his eyes hungrily followed its trail, ‘Son of a bitch! She’s gonna be the death of me…’

Dean bit on his lower lip when the drop disappeared between your breasts, and he knew that he’d never had any idea to what strength was, until he had to watch you without touching.

He opened his own bottle now, gulping down half of it, cause he needed something, anything, to stop him from walking the distance between the two of you and tear your clothes apart.

Dean brought his eyes back on you, and for a second he could’ve sworn that you were staring at him while licking your lips, but he brushed it off, cause he knew it was just his mind playing, yet, another trick on him.

“How come you always wear jeans? I mean, you gotta be hot, why not go for shorts?” He smiled, it wasn’t the first time you’d asked him that, “That’s cause I’d never look half as good as you do, sweetheart!”

He loved the barely visible blush that coated your cheeks whenever he complimented you somehow, and he probably loved even more the shy smile that etched on your lips as you looked away.

“Now, as much as I’d love to just stand here and keep staring at you in that little outfit of yours, I really gotta find out what’s wrong with Baby!”

You flashed him another shy smile, and he winked at you before downing the rest of his beer and turning back to duck under the hood of his car.

You bit your lip watching his bow legs; you loved his legs. The strong thighs hiding underneath his dark blue jeans always had you fantasising about him taking you against a wall, supporting both of your bodies with little to no effort.

And then there was his ass; his perfectly shaped ass. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d dreamt of digging your nails into the firm flesh, urging him to go deeper inside of you.

Your body temperature rose with every second that you stared at him working on the car; each dirty thought that crossed your mind, making you slicker.

You closed your eyes, imagining his rough hands kneading your body, gripping tightly onto you as your back arched and you moaned his name.

“There’s something stuck in there. Damn it! I can’t reach it” His voice brought you back to reality and you drew in a shuddering breath, trying to compose yourself before you walked up to him.

“Where is it? My hand’s smaller, maybe I can help?” You stood by his side, and he turned his head to look at you; green eyes focusing on your face.

You shamelessly stared at the bulging muscles in his arms, covered in grease just like his t-shirt was, making him look right down delicious. Dean straightened up, giving you a better view at the expanse of his chest.

“-(Y/n)? You with me or what?” Your eyes snapped up to lock on his green ones, and he smirked, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“The piece’s stuck there! If you can’t reach it it’s okay, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, you hear me?” You nodded, winking at him with a smile.

He stepped aside, and you bent under the hood, stretching your hand to reach the object you had to take out. Dean was standing a few feet behind you; eyes focused on your ass.

Your extremely short shorts, gave him the best view ever, leaving nothing to the imagination as you bent over and your ass stuck out in his direction.

His eyes followed the curve of your back, an image of you naked in his bedroom as he took you in the same position popped in his head, and he had to turn around to actually calm himself a little. 

Dean soon understood it was useless, cause the picture was now seared in his memory, and he decided to just turn back to you; resuming his contemplation of your body.

“I got it, but it’s like really, really stuck! I need a hand, Dean!” He didn’t answer you, and you frowned, snapping your free hand over your shoulder to get his attention.

“No, yeah, sorry, I’m here! What-what do you need?” He moved to stand behind you, making sure to leave some space between your bodies, “I can’t do it on my own, I need you to pull with me!”

Dean took in a deep breath, catiously bending his body over yours; his scent filling your senses and making you bite back a moan, as you felt his strong muscles coming into contact with your own.

You sank your teeth in the plush skin of your bottom lip, catching your breath when he placed one hand next to yours and the other one gripped your wrist, ready to pull whenever you said the word.

“Okay, one…” He smiled against your neck, but you couldn’t see it from the position you were in, “Two…” His voice was a gruff, hoarse whisper in your ear and you couldn’t stop yourself from shuddering.

Hoping that he wouldn’t read too much into the reaction you were having from his proximity, you drew in a deep breath, “Three!” You both pulled and you managed to get the piece that was stuck.

You stumbled back, and you were sure you would’ve landed on your ass if it hadn’t been for Dean’s sturdy body behind you, and his arms around your waist keeping you steady.

“Woah, thanks for that!” He chuckled, his breath fanning along your neck and down your spine, sending shivers throughout your whole body, “I’m the one who should be thanking you! You fixed my Baby!”

You both shifted your eyes on the plastic remainder of what could have been, well you had no idea what that thing could have been in the past, the only thing you knew was that it got stuck in Baby somewhere along the way.

“What the hell is even that?” You looked up at Dean, who was frowning down at the greasy object in your hand, “I have no idea, it was stuck in your car not mine, buddy!”

You let out a small chuckle, your stomach vibrating under Dean’s hand and making him shift his green eyes on you. You felt him tightening his arm around your waist, and looked up.

“Please, tell me if you’re feeling this, too. Cause, damn, it’s been driving me out of my mind, (Y/n)! It’s just-say the word and I’ll stop…” You kept silent for a second, weighing the pros and cons.

But then again, this was Dean Winchester you were talking about, the pros undoubtedly outnumbered the cons. You gently took in your hand the arm that was keeping you secured in his hold, and turned to face him.

“What would you do if I felt it, too?” A deep groan left his lips, before they were crashing on your own as he walked you back until your ass found his car.

He blindly closed the hood, never breaking the kiss and you moaned when he picked you up and sat you on it; the warm metal of the car sticking to the flesh of your bare thighs.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love these shorts on you? They make your ass look so damn good!” You tugged on his head, humming absently as you pulled his lips back on yours.

“God, Dean! I want you so bad!” He nodded, trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, harshly sucking on your skin and pulling back to watch as a red mark showed on the surface.

He threw away the greasy rug he had been holding, and you watched him for a second, before you were fisting his grey t-shirt and pulling him back against you, craving the feeling of his hard muscles against your own.

“Fuck, you’re sexy, (Y/n)! You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of fucking you senseless, baby” You moaned when he whispered the words against your lips; his hands gripping your thighs.

“Gonna take me here, Dean?” You were vaguely aware of the fact that you were outside but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Dean’s hands roughly kneaded the insides of your thighs.

“I could take you wherever you want, baby girl, it just has to be as soon as possible!” You rolled your hips on his, feeling his erection straining against his jeans and adding to your arousal.

“Here’s fine. Nobody comes around here anyways, right?” You tipped your head back as he hummed his answer, suckling and biting on your supple flesh, while his hands snaked under your tank top.

You lifted your arms up, helping him remove the clothing and silently giving him the permission his eyes were asking for, as if he really needed to ask for any at that point.

His big hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently and enjoying the feeling of them, “Mmmhm, they fit perfectly in my hands!” You were about to tell him to move along, but he shut you up.

His full lips wrapped around one hard nipple, tugging on it and making you arch your back closer as mewls of approval fell from your kiss-swollen, parted lips.

You looked down and found him looking up at you, his eyes fixed on every single twitch of pleasure that appeared on your face. He reserved the same treatment to your other nipple, and by the time he was done, you were a dripping mess of need.

Your hands worked to rid him of his shirt, desperately craving the feeling of his hot skin under your hands, and when he finally discarded it, you practically moaned at the sight in front of you.

His forearms and biceps were covered in smudged grease, partly because of you gripping them, and the large expanse of his chest was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, making your core even more slick.

Dean gave you a few moments to look, mostly cause he himself was admiring your bare upper half, before he couldn’t take it anymore and settled between your parted thighs and pulled you flush to him.

You groaned at the sensation of your hard nipples rubbing against his hard chest, your hands going to grip and feel his broad shoulders, while his went to unbutton your shorts.

Your hands followed the curve of his muscles, trailing down his toned pecs and softer abs, until you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his jeans and pulled his hips to yours.

Dean moaned at your actions, hungrily watching as you unbuttoned his jeans and undid the zipper, “Enough with the foreplay. I’m so wet for you, Dean, you’ll slip into me with no problem!”

A deep, long growl bubbled in his chest, and he worked to rid you of your tight shorts, cursing under his breath as it took him more than he expected, “They might be sexy, but they’re a bitch to take off!”

You grinned down at him when he let them fall on the hood next your thigh and pushed down his own jeans, “Uh-uh, the things I do, or wear, to make you hard for me, Dean”

You seductively bit down on your lip, before his lips were claiming your own once more, teeth sinking into your lower one and dragging it roughly.

“Clean, tell me you’re on the pill, cause I really need to be inside your tight, little pussy! Right fucking now!” You nodded, pushing your hips forward on the hood of the car, as Dean tore your panties away.

“Dude!” He flashed you a sheepish grin, while pushing his underwear down, “I’ll make it worth it” You raised an eyebrow at him, “You bett-ffffuck!”

He sank into you, your juices making him slide smoothly inside your core and bottom out, before he stopped to let you both adjust to the feeling, “Shiiit! You’re tighter that I thought, (Y/n)!”

You chocked out something that sounded as an 'I know’, making him let out a breathless chuckle, “God-damn it, Dean, move! Pleeease!” What was supposed to be an order, ended in a moan as Dean slightly rolled his hips.

“Ugh-you feel good, sweetheart” He withdraw his hips, pushing back into you and you both moaned, “Fuck me, Dean, please I need you to!” He complied, working his hips against yours and starting to build up a pace.

His thrust grew harder and faster, your boobs bouncing with each one of them, and making him growl as he latched his lips around a nipple and bit down hard, making you tip your head back in pleasure.

“Damn it! You feel so-ughhh, so…fffuck!” You rolled your hips back onto him, pushing him even deeper inside of you, “Yeah? Like how my little pussy wraps tightly around your big cock, baby?”

Dean growled, the grip he had on your thighs tightening, “If you keep that up, I won’t be able to control myself anymore, (Y/n)!” He snarled the words in your ear, making you shudder.

You smirked to yourself, leaning down to lick at the shell of his ear, “Can you feel that? Can you feel how my walls are stretching to accommodate your huge cock? Ahhh-shit, you’re fucking me so good, Dean!”

He pushed you back until you were lying on the hood, your legs spread wide for him and allowing him the best view, “I warned ya, princess!” As the words left his lips, he began to pound into you.

His hips snapping furiously against your own, the sound of slapping skin filling your ear as he relentlessly thrust his member into your entrance, “Oh, fffuck! Just like that, don’t stop, Dean, p-pleeease!”

Dean bent down, covering your body with his, and sinking his teeth into the spot were your neck and shoulder connected, making you arch your back off the metal to get closer to him.

“You’re such a dirty girl, (Y/n)! Whispering those filthy things into my ear to get me to fuck you harder. This is what you want, baby? This is what you wanted me to do to you?”

Your walls shook around him, every muscle in your body tensing as you felt the tight coil in your belly about to snap, “Yes, yes! Fuck, Deeean! I’m gonna-gonna c-come!”

Dean groaned, pistoning his hips faster and bringing his hand to roughly toy with your clit, “Then come!” Your pussy clamped down on him, nails digging into his biceps as you let go.

You rolled your hips, body shaking under Dean’s, “Sonofa-damn it, princess!” Dean pulled out of you, hurriedly jerking himself, before spurting his hot come all over your thighs.

He collapsed back on top of you, both of you completely spent as you tried to regain your normal breathing, “Well, that finally happened!” He smiled against your shoulder, before placing a kiss onto it.

“Mmmhm, finally!” You closed your eyes, basking in the afterglow and enjoying Dean’s bodyweight on top of yours, “Why the hell did you ask about the pill if you ended up coming all over me anyway?”

He chucked, his chest shaking against yours, “Yeah, well…I just always fantasized about you covered in my come, I think it’s sexy”

Dean shrugged his shoulders as you giggled, before he lifted himself up a little and kissed you, “Look, (Y/n), I don’t know about you, but I’d like to do this again…sometimes, maybe as often as possible?”

He innocently raised his eyebrows at you, grinning down like a little kid, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing, either, Dean” You felt him draw in a relieved breath, before pressing another kiss on your lips.

You pushed him off of you and grabbed your clothes, along with what was left of your panties and started walking away, “Wait! Where you going?” Dean was pulling up his pants when you turned around to him.

“To take a shower, wanna join?” You sent him a wink and turned around, swaying your naked hips inside the bunker, “God, you’re definitely going to be the death of me, (Y/n)!”

He heard your chuckle and smiled, grabbing his clothes and jogging behind you as he made a mental note to clean the imprinted shape of your ass off of Baby’s hood.

Perfect fit

Request: in summary, this is loosely based on the film “What’s your number” (part two here, part three here)

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x reader

Warnings: pining, gourmet food

Word count: 2,775 (this is maybe a 1/3 of it? good luck)

A/N: This is for the lovely Taryn  (@fragmentofmymind) who won my 1.1k celebration prize of a personalised ficlet of 1.5k words or more! Since it’s over 6k, I’m splitting it into parts. This is a fic for everyone, except that it has some details unique to Taryn- regardless, enjoy!

The first time you met Lin was a cold Saturday morning in February. You had had a late night and just wanted to sleep in and spend the day in your pyjamas. Your alarm was off, your duvet was warm, and someone was banging on the door.

You rolled over, hoping whoever it was would go away- no such luck. Taking a deep breath, you slipped out of bed and, grabbing a jumper from where you had hung it over the back of a chair, headed to answer the door.

“Coming,” you called as you slid back the lock and opened the door. A guy was standing there in a hastily buttoned shirt and boxer shorts. You recognised him- he lived in the apartment opposite you, but you’d not really spoken before.

“Can I come in?” he asked, looking furtively over his shoulder towards the door to his apartment.

You wavered, considering his strange getup. He seemed nice- short hair, soft brown eyes, the beginnings of a goatee, and a nervous smile. Cute, your mind said. “Your apartment is right there,” you pointed out.

“Just for a minute?” he pleaded. You opened the door a little and he dashed inside.

“Close it,” he hissed, and bewildered, you did. He relaxed, collapsing into the cushy armchair you had beside the window.

“Thanks,” he grinned, “I had a one-night stand to get away from.”

“That’s nice of you,” you frowned, vividly conscious that you were still in your pjs and a hoodie. “Who are you?”

He sprang up again, extending a hand for you to take. You shook it hesitantly. “I’m Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

“Y/N - nice to meet you.” You watched him explore your apartment, unsure of what to do next. You didn’t exactly have any experience with this kind of situation. “How long are you going to-”

“Stay?” he turned around, scampering over to peer through the peephole in your door. Lin shrugged. “Until she’s gone.”

You raised an eyebrow, “I see. Excuse me.” Grabbing a pair of jeans, a shirt, and some underwear, you headed into the bathroom to get dressed. You could hear Lin still wandering around your apartment, humming softly to himself.

You dressed as quickly as you could and pulled a brush through your hair until it looked vaguely presentable. “I’m helping you,” you told Lin as you emerged from the bathroom and headed out of your apartment and across the hallway to his.

The door wasn’t locked, so you opened it. A girl with red hair, glasses, and very few clothes was picking her way through Lin’s apartment, looking for her jeans. You straightened and got ready to try to act.

You gasped theatrically and the girl looked up, yelping when she saw that you weren’t Lin. “Who are you?” she asked, covering herself as best as she could with the clothes she had.

“I’m his girlfriend,” you said, and buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with fake sobs. You were sure it looked fake, but she seemed to buy it, blurting out an apology and, grabbing her jeans from the end of the bed, she all but ran out of the apartment.

You listened until you heard her footsteps on the stairs and, a moment later, the door to the building close behind her. Then, straightening your hurriedly pulled-on clothes, you walked back into your apartment.

“There you go,” you told Lin, who had now moved on to examining all the titles on your bookshelves, “she’s gone.”

“Thanks,” Lin said, not moving, “I owe you one.”

“You can repay me by leaving,” you suggested, “I have a brunch date to get to and I don’t want to be late.”

“A brunch date?” Lin wrinkled his nose, “Seems lazy.”

“My mum set me up,” you admitted with a sheepish smile, “apparently I’ve been single for too long.”

Lin laughed. Something on your bookshelf caught his eye and he paused, slipping it out carefully from between Jane Eyre and The Hobbit. “What’s this?” he asked, flipping open the cover.

Wide Sargasso Sea,” you said, watching as he searched for a blurb. You had signed your name carefully onto the first page in pencil, just in case you lost it. “It’s about Mrs. Rochester.”

“As in Jane Eyre?” He turned to the first page with renewed interest.

You smiled, “It’s my favourite book.”

Lin looked up from the first chapter and raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

You thought about it. “It’s really heartbreaking,” you started, “but so beautiful, because it gives life to the character everyone seems frightened of when reading Jane Eyre.”

“Can I borrow it?”

“Of course,” you smiled,  “just be careful with it, and bring it back when you’re done.”

Lin put his hand over his heart, “I swear it.”

You laughed. The clock caught your eye- it was half-past nine and you had to be there in half an hour. “Now I have a date to get ready for,” you said, “and you have an empty apartment to go back to.”

He pouted. “I like it here-”

“Next time, wear some clothes,” you said pointedly, giving him a good-natured shove towards the door.

“Any requests?” he teased, and you just closed the door with a sigh and went to get ready.

Charlie was nice, you decided. He paid attention to you, recommended food from the menu, and picked up the bill at the end. He was tall with dark hair and, when he smiled, he had the cutest dimples.

When he got excited, he spoke with his hands, nearly knocking over his glass a couple of times. He worked as a food critic, had a little sister called Josie, and made you want to cook.

You set up your next date before you’d even left the small diner where you’d met for brunch. “I’ll be there for seven,” he promised, “and I’ll bring over some of those lobster canapés I told you about- family recipe, you know.”

“I can’t wait,” you smiled, and he kissed you shyly on the cheek.

You were just setting down your bag when you heard a knock at the door, which you had left ajar, meaning to run downstairs and grab your umbrella from where you’d left to dry by the door. Lin was leaning up against your doorframe, now in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair spiky and damp from a shower.

“Hey neighbour,” he grinned and sauntered in, pushing the door shut behind him, “how was the date?”

“Nice,” you said honestly. All you wanted to do was flop and watch some West Wing, but you felt a little awkward with Lin around.

“Just ‘nice’?” Lin asked, putting air quotes around the word. “Doesn’t sound great to me.”

“It was a first date- give it a chance!” You headed through into the kitchen decided you might as well make yourself a cup of tea. You hesitated at the cupboard before pulling out two mugs, “Do you want some tea?”

Lin was examining your books again, but he straightened at your offer. “Sounds great.”

You clicked on the kettle and settled on finding out a bit more about the guy who had crashed your apartment that morning, “What do you do?”

“I write- or at least try to write- musicals,” Lin confessed. He joined you in the kitchen, “And while I try, I teach English.”

“That’s amazing!” you said, open-mouthed as you poured out the hot water for your tea, “What are you writing now?”

Lin grinned, “It’s called ‘In the Heights’- it’s about a small Latino community down in Washington Heights. I’m trying to pitch it to anyone who’ll listen.”

“Tell me more?” you suggested, but Lin shook his head with a smile.

“My turn to ask a question,” he insisted.

You raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. “I’m not as exciting as you, Mr. Broadway.”

Lin laughed at that. “What,” he tapped his chin, pretending to think, “is your favourite colour?”

“It’s a tie between burgundy and teal,” you said, gesturing to your teal hoodie and then to the burgundy cardigan hanging up beside the door. “My turn. Tell me more about your musical.”

“That’s not a question,” he pointed out. You waited, and he gave in, “I play Usnavi-”

“You’re in it?” you interrupted, surprised.

“Yeah. I play Usnavi, and he and his cousin run a bodega in the heights.” He paused, “It’s quite a long plot to explain.”

You fished out the teabags and passed him his mug. “I guess I’ll have to come and see it then.”

He lit up, beaming, “You would?”

“Of course,” you said. After a moment, you decided to invite him to stay. “I was going to crash and watch some West Wing, do you want to join me?”

“Y/N,” he said solemnly, “you are a woman after my own heart.”

“You know the West Wing?” you said, surprised.

“Know it?” he pretended to be insulted, “it’s only the best show ever.”

You snorted and headed over to your couch, setting your tea down on your tiny coffee table before you went to put the DVD in. Lin was funny and bouncy and a bit weird, you thought as the theme began to play, but you liked him.

On the day of your next date with Charlie, you went out shopping. You wanted to cook something he’d like and, after some deliberation and way too much time on food recipe websites. You’d settled on something called “Zuni roast chicken” that meant you had to head out to the store with an unusual shopping list.

When you came back, a large paper bag of groceries in your arms, you realised you didn’t have any free hands. You struggled for a moment, wishing the chicken you had bought was lighter so you could hold the bag in one hand.

“Need some help?” Lin appeared and held out his hand for the key you had barely manage to pull out of your jacket pocket.

“Please,” you said, and he unlocked the door. You staggered inside and to the kitchen, where you dumped the bag on the counter. You turned to thank Lin, only to find him standing at your peephole again, the door closed. You sighed, “Another one-night stand you need to hide from?”

“Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

You set to unpacking your groceries. Lin bounded over and started to help. “What is this stuff?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. He started to read out some of the labels, “Pitted castelvetrano olives? Duck fat? Escarole?” he pulled out a leafy vegetable, “What is all of this?”

“I’m cooking dinner,” you explained, grabbing the vegetable so you could stick it in the fridge. “I didn’t have all the ingredients, so I bought them.”

Lin was still digging through your shopping. After a moment he produced a minimalistically branded bag of muesli, “You’d better not be having that for dinner.”

You snatched it back. “No, Charlie recommended I improve my diet.”

Lin made a face. “Why, what do you usually have?”

You shrugged. “Toast?” You shelved the muesli, “Sometimes cereal?”

“You’re changing your diet for this guy?” Lin grabbed an apple from the bottom of the bag. “May I?”

“Sure,” you nodded. “But I’m not changing for him,” you argued- somewhat unconvincingly if Lin’s expression was anything to go by, “I’m making better choices.”

“Whatever you say,” Lin took a bite of the apple.

You grabbed the last thing out of the bag- a bottle of white-wine vinegar- and set it aside. The recipe had said you needed four hours to make this thing. “I’d better get started,” you groaned.

Lin laughed. “Want some help?”

“What do you know about cooking?” you asked skeptically, remembering the general lack of kitchen utensils you’d seen in his apartment.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, you got me,” he admitted, “my dad is the cook in my family. He makes a great arroz con grandules-”

“I don’t suppose he knows how to make-” you pulled up the recipe on your phone, “roast chicken with fennel panzanella?”

“Nope,” he shook his head and peered over your shoulder at the phone, “but how hard can it be?”

“Don’t even say that,” you groaned as you scrolled down the instructions, “we’re going to die.”

It was quarter to seven when you left Lin to look after the saucepan of panzanella- mostly vegetables, as it turned out- and went to get changed. You pulled on a nice knit sweater and a fresh pair of jeans, since the pair you had been wearing smelled distinctly of the herby sauce you had spilled on them earlier.

You fixed your makeup and yelped when you realised it was almost seven. “Lin!” you called, “I have to kick you out.”

“What? “After I helped you make this?” He looked sadly at the chicken that being kept hot by the oven.

“Don’t you dare give me those puppy eyes, Lin-Manuel Miranda,” you warned. “You know perfectly well I have a date.”

He still looked sad. You sighed and headed over to the bookshelf where, in a little wooden box, you kept a spare key. You pulled it out. “Here- catch,” you said, and threw it to him.

Lin caught it. “What’s this?”

“A spare key to my apartment,” you explained.

Lin grinned, “Thanks, Y/N.”

You held up a hand to stop him. “There are rules if you’re going to use my apartment to escape those poor women,” you said. “Firstly, you have to be clothed if you come into my apartment-”

“How clothed?” He interrupted.

You pretended to consider it, “Preferably fully. Secondly, don’t crash my dates.”

“Damn,” he muttered.

“And lastly, don’t lose the key.”

“Done, done, and done,” Lin promised, tucking the key into his pocket.

The buzzer at the door let you know that Charlie wanted to be let into the building. You pressed the button to admit him and opened the door. Lin hurried out.

You caught his arm as he passed you. “Thanks for helping, Lin,” you said sincerely, “I needed it.”

Lin smiled. “Any time,” he said and crossed the hallway. He opened his door a crack and peered inside to check for his date. “She’s gone,” he told you before heading into his apartment, pausing only to mouth ‘good luck’ to you as he closed the door.

Just then, Charlie turned the corner. He was carrying a bouquet of pink tulips and wore a white shirt. “Y/N!” He smiled and presented you with the flowers. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Charlie,” you said. He followed you into your apartment and into the kitchen where you searched the cupboards for a vase.

“Roast chicken with fennel?” He asked after a moment. You looked up to see him peering into the simmering saucepan on the hob.

“Yeah,” you admitted as you filled the base. “I hope it turned out well.”

“My dad always used to add leek,” he advised, “for texture and flavour.”

“Oh?” You did your best to sound interested, pulling out two plates and two glasses. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Domaine aux Moines Savennieres from Roche aux Moines from late ‘90s or early '00s is my perfect pairing for roast chicken,” he told you as he moved on to peer into your oven. “Roast chicken always has very deep and complex flavors, and I look for savory characteristics in a wine to go with it.”

You stared at him for a moment. “I don’t have any of… that.”

He shrugged. “It can’t be helped- any Pinot Noir?”

You knocked on Lin’s door after Charlie had left. Charlie, you found out, was critical of diets and foods even outside of work. To make it worse, he was a dick about it without realizing.

When he’d unintentionally insulted your dessert- a recipe from your mother- you had decided you had had enough.

There were no plans for a third date, and you had hoped to bitch about it to Lin. But, standing outside his apartment, you realized he was either asleep or out. You headed back to your apartment.

To: Lin

You out?

You tried to sound casual, hoping the door would open in a moment to reveal Lin. But it didn’t.

Feeling lonely, you washed up the dishes, boxed the leftovers, and got ready for bed. You knew you couldn’t expect Lin to always be there- he had his own life, after all. 

It was just that your life and his life had started to feel like the same thing. The absence of his familiar presence on the couch or in your kitchen or reading your books left you feeling lopsided, as if half of you had gone missing.

From: Lin

On a date- you alright?

You swallowed your pride and replied.

To: Lin

Yh. See you tomorrow.

Soulmate AU (John Laurens x Reader)

Words: 1,144

Soulmate AU where when you get beauty marks, scars, cuts, etc they also appear on your soulmate, but don’t cause them any pain. Modern.

Warnings: A bit of self negativity and Maria being your friend, wingman and sassmaster.

(First fic on here! Wooh! Please go head and send requests, say hello, or tell me if there’s a weird spelling or grammar mistake in here.)

“What happened to your face?” A smile came across John’s face when he was asked this question as he sat down at his friends’ usual table.

“I have no idea,” he declared, proud of the horizontal streak being displayed on his nose. For a moment there was an air of bewilderment before realization dawned.

“My, ton âme sœur must be quite the character for you to have all of these odd marks appear this frequently,” Lafayette remarked, it being the second time in the past week where John had acquired a peculiar new mark, likely being from some sort of injury.

“I find it kinda reassuring, you know?” John reached for the faint stripes that appeared on his neck a few days prior. “Like a constant reminder that there’s a real, living and breathing person who was made for me.”

When you walked into the bar you immediately spotted your friend Maria, her having saved a stool for you. Maria wasted no time before sending a pointed look to the band-aid stuck to the middle of your face.

“What did you do to your face?” You pouted at the nonchalant way she posed her question.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Maria took a sip of her drink, her expression unmoved. You sighed in defeat. “I was standing too close to a pinata.” Her eyes widened.

“Did you get hit with a bat?”

“No! I was hit by the pinata.” Maria snorted, causing you to sulk further. “It was pointy and hurt and it started bleeding!” You rubbed the afflicted area in self pity while your friend silently judged you for clumsy nature.

“Maybe if you didn’t hide all of your cuts and bruises you would’ve found your soulmate by now,” she cocked an eyebrow at your both terrified and dumbfounded face. “You’re still scared you’re not going to meet them until you’re old and dying, right?”

“I don’t want them to know I’m a klutz!” You exclaimed. at your exclamation you attempted to swing your hand out in emphasis, instead hitting it against the bar. 

“I’m sure they already know,” She rolled her eyes.

You cradled your hand as a small bruise began to form. “I was thinking about trying to date someone who’s not my soulmate. You’ve done that before, haven’t you?”

“Wouldn’t personally recommend it, but yes. Where is this coming from?” You paused for a moment to think of your answer. A million things raced through your mind, worries and insecurities you’ve had about not being good enough for your designated significant other.

“Well, I think a lot about who my soulmate is, and I’m worried that they won’t like me or want to be around me because I’m accident-prone. I have zero good luck. You know this.”

“I do know this. I also know that you’re being ridiculous. Your soulmate is literally designed to fall in love with you. You realize that, right?” You half-halfheartedly glared at her, knowing she had a point. “And I don’t think they’ll care about you being accident prone since in any case you’re both getting the sames scars at the end.” Dejected by the truth behind her words, you slouched against the wooden bar.

“I really just want someone to love me.”

“You and me both.” Maria finished her drink before standing up with a stretch. “I’m going to the bathroom. Order me another drink when I’m gone?”

“Sure thing,” you nodded, waving at bartender to get a second drink for your friend and one for yourself. It seemed like no time passed at all before Maria was back at your side.

“Y/N. Bandage. Off. Now.” Maria made unwavering eye contact as she made her demand. You furrowed your eyebrows.


“Look behind you.” You not-so subtly turned around on your seat, looking for whatever she could possibly want you to look at. “See him?” You squinted, looking back and questioning her. “Curly hair. Freckles.” You huffed.

“Just because we both have freckles doesn’t mean we’re soulmates.” You sat back down, annoyed at what you thought was Maria being insensitive towards you right after having a conversation about potentially giving up on finding your soulmate.

“We both know you didn’t get your freckles from your family.” You bit your lip. She had a point. “Turn back around, he has a mark right where you’re covering your face.” You glanced back and gasped, a hand shooting towards your face.

“There’s no way the pinata did that to me!” Maria pulled your hand away from your face.

“Uh-huh. Take off your bandage so I can see, and I’ll be the judge of that!”

“There’s no way I’d meet him right now. That’s too unlikely,” Maria went to grab the bandage, causing you to lean backwards. “I am not emotionally ready to face this situation.”

“Hush, you’re fine,” as your guard was momentarily down Maria ripped the bandage from your nose, revealing the pinata-caused wound. You grimaced at the stinging wound while Maria gawked at it, making you squirm under her gaze. Calmly, almost too calm you thought, she grabbed your hands in hers. “You’re going to thank me for this later,” she stated without context. As you breathed in to question her she swerved your stool around so you were facing the table of the curly-haired guy she made you eye up. “Hey, Freckles!” she called in his direction.

To your horror, the right person actually looked over. At that moment you regretted every life choice you’d made that led up to this situation.

His gaze first went to Maria, who had initially gotten his attention. It looked as if he was about to turn away when for a split second his eyes met yours. After noticing you he turned back around completely, studying your face(You wish you could say you were doing the same- your vision was being blurred by tears of excitement and fear) and the different marks that littered your face. 

While you felt like your heart stopped, the biggest grin spread across his face.

When he bolted towards you and pulled you into a hug, it finally dawned on you that wow. This guy really doesn’t know who you are but he likes you.

As he pulled away to get a better look at you, you studied his features. You observed the concerned look on his face, his eyebrows furrowed because you hadn’t said anything to him yet and he wiped away tears that you didn’t realize were falling from your eyes.

Finally a smile broke out onto your face once you realized that everything was going to be okay, even though you were terrified and didn’t know what to do. You pulled him into another hug, letting out a small laugh filled with joy and relief.

“I’m John Laurens,” he introduced himself, still in your embrace.

“Y/N L/N, pleasure to meet you!”

(Part two!)

Please send feedback, reblog, add comments, anything really! Hope you enjoyed it!

The First Deal

Mabel woke up silently, for once in her life. No over-exaggerated yawning, or immediately leaping up to bounce on the bed, or loudly greeting the day and every single object and person in sight. She just… woke up.

She blinked her eyes open, her gaze resting on the ceiling of the attic she had come to know as her new home, then immediately flopped her head onto its side on the pillow to look over to her sibling, who hovered just above his own bed on the other end of the room. His bed was unmade, but she knew it was only because they hadn’t touched it since the last time Dipper properly slept there. Somehow, it felt like they hadn’t spent the night up here together in weeks when only a few long, long days had passed.

Her twin was wearing the same outfit (sans hat) that he’d basically worn all summer–so far, it seemed, much like a ghost, his appearance was permanently affixed to the vest-and-shorts attire he’d worn when they faced a certain triangle for the final time. Gravity, apparently, could act on his clothes, considering how they hung off him as he floated, but nothing else in this reality. His eyes stared intently at the ceiling, and one of those new appendages attached at his lower back twitched the slightest bit every few seconds. The tiny wings were rather adorable, even though they looked far too much like a bat’s and they were just limply hanging off of him as he laid in the air. Of course, she’d prefer if they weren’t there at all, because Dipper wasn’t supposed to have little wings. Nor was he supposed to be floating. Nor sporting a permanently black sclera in his eyes darker than her worst nightmares and a piercing, burning gold for pupils.

Lots of things were wrong here. Impossible things.

Yet… well, if she was waking up now, and it appeared that none of this was a horrifying dream after all, then they’d have to accept it.

(Fully accepting was likely going to take a while.)

“Hey, Mabel,” Dipper muttered, not even bothering to glance over to her.

“Hey, Dips,” she replied quietly, dropping her gaze from him to his unmade bed. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“…I don’t think I’m able to s̨l͘e̶ep̀ anymore.” She’d heard a little bit of the new echo in his voice that time, and she tried to not shudder at it.

They continued in their respective positions for another minute or two, the air thick.

Before Mabel could think the question over completely, she asked, “What were you doing, then?” After all, the circles around his eyes made him look exactly like that one time he literally spent the whole night reading mystery novels. He wouldn’t look like that right now (even after the… transformation he endured, which must’ve been excruciatingly painful) if he didn’t need sleep to begin with, right?

Dipper winced, and her heart dropped to her stomach, desperately hoping that whatever part of that that was the wrong thing to say wouldn’t hurt him too much.

“You wanna go see if Grunkle Stan’s up?” he asked back, not-so-tactfully changing the subject and not sounding as nonchalant as he had probably tried for. She merely nodded and crawled her way out from under her blankets. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this exhausted; honestly, how did their grunkle expect them to get a decent amount of sleep after all of that?

She couldn’t help but notice that Dipper was being oh-so-careful to not actually touch the bed or the floor as he slid down. His sneakers still floated about half an inch over the wood boards. He was probably afraid of trying to touch things in the high likelihood that he’d merely go right through them. She couldn’t blame him.

She patted down her purple polka-dot pajama pants, then held out her hand to him, pasting on a little smile. He returned the smile gratefully and grasped her hand with his own, taking heed to not prick her with those new claw things at the ends of his fingers. (A thought flew through her mind, tutting that they’d be much less menacing if she painted them pink. That made her smile a little more genuine.)

She led him out and down the stairs- ignoring how he got a little lazier and floated along without actually moving his legs- and paused once they had reached the first floor.

Still holding hands, they peered into the kitchen. There sat Grunkle Stan nursing a steaming mug of coffee, looking every bit his age, yet not caring and drinking more watered-down burnt beans than he should.


Stan happened to glance up and noticed them- well, really, only Mabel, but it was a safe assumption to say that Dipper was likely right next to her- once they’d been there for almost a full minute. He did his usual morning greeting- a rather gross-sounding grunt- and took a long sip out of his mug. Mabel took the invitation and walked further into the kitchen, gripping something invisible in her hand- yep, that must’ve been her twin.

“Whaddya want for breakfast? We’ve still got some cereal, or I can whip up some Stan-cakes and eggs-”

Mabel glanced over to the side before interrupting him. “Um, we’re not really hungry.”

“Me neither,” Stan admitted, “but I still gotta feed you kids. It’s kinda part of my job as your grunkle, and breakfast’s the most important meal of the day, and all that crap.” He set his mug down on the table and leaned back on his chair with a weary sigh. “I wanna be able to say I at least did that when your parents get here.”

“What?” Mabel cried out. “Why are they coming?”

“Gravity Falls made its way into national news as the center of all the weird that started everywhere.” That’s one of the first things he learned when Mark and Anna were finally able to get a call through the incredibly busy phone lines; though he was unsurprised by the fact, he couldn’t have found out on his own, since the TV currently didn’t work. “No one outside the town actually understands what happened, of course, but I get why your folks are scared.” He sunk further down and rested the back of his head on the top edge of his chair, folding his arms over his stomach. “Though I’m glad they had the decency to call first, I’m really not looking forward to them screaming at me.”

Mabel’s face somehow looked even more distraught. “Do they think all of this is your fault?! That’s so unfair! You didn’t do anything wrong!” Goosebumps ran up the arm grasping air; everyone had figured out rather quickly that Dipper’s presence caused a chill, especially when he was upset.

“Actually, I did everything wrong,” he corrected, coming off harsher than he intended. “And I’m not enough of a coward to not admit that some of this is my fault. Though they’re probably never going to talk to me again after, if they can help it, nor let you two stay here.” He looked up to Mabel’s face and the space where Dipper’s surely was, then picked back up his coffee and muttered halfheartedly, “Good riddance.”

When he took a few more sips of his coffee, then realized that the twins were still standing in the exact same spot, the visible one wearing the exact same facial expression, he relented on what he had said before. “Alright, I’ll let you two off without breakfast just this once, but don’t tell anyone.”

Mabel gave a microscopic nod, likely answering for both of them, and shuffled away towards the living room.

He took a deep breath once she was out of sight, and considered getting yet another cup of coffee, when she meekly reappeared.

“Dipper wanted to know when they’ll get here.”

Stan grunted out a response. “Eh, probably late today or early tomorrow. That’s if there isn’t too much panicking going on on the roads, though.”

She nodded yet again- man, he was not used to her lack of loudness and enthusiasm- and walked back out.

Frankly, though, he couldn’t blame her for acting out-of-character. He couldn’t deny that he was, too.

Stanley Pines was never scared, no matter what name and identity he went by. Yet, somehow, he was scared now- for Dipper, for Mabel, for all the people in the world who now would suffer the presence of demons (that weren’t awkward and dorky like Dipper, because that kid couldn’t possibly become as evil as Bill and his friends, he was physically and mentally incapable of such inhumanity, he was sure of it)… and, if he was being really honest, for himself.

(An old man was allowed to secretly wish he could be with his grandniece and grandnephew for a little longer, right? Even if he knew that he had screwed up their lives far beyond repair, just like he did to his brother? And couldn’t do absolutely anything about it except ask for forgiveness? Forgiveness that even Ford wasn’t quite willing to give him yet?)

Stan bowed his head over his mug, which only contained a few last drops of black clinging to ceramic, the strong perfume of coffee not helping him as much as he pretended it did throughout his lengthy, disappointment-filled lifetime.


Mabel wasn’t sure anymore if being in the living room was any better than the kitchen, where the food that Dipper couldn’t eat (in his current condition, at least) sat there and mocked him. Here, his own just-barely-obtained and uncontrolled powers spat in his face.

The room was still drained and in disarray from when Dipper had appeared, realized what he’d become, and had a bit of a… meltdown, for lack of a better term (though Mabel wished she could come up with a word that sounded a lot nicer). The top half of the walls had lost their color, which had dripped down and puddled on the floor. The windows and TV screen had cracked, and currently stood about one puff of air away from completely shattering. Stuffing poked out from the marred and shredded couch cushions. There were wrappers, cheese puffs, and chips lying on the floor and every other available surface, but that part honestly wasn’t much different from before.

The lightbulb had been the first thing to explode when Dipper… yeah. There was plenty of sunlight streaming in through the severely damaged window glass, though, due to the time of day, so it wouldn’t have been needed, anyways.

If Mabel hadn’t valiantly swooped into action when he had started the… well, there really wasn’t a better word for it, was there? The room would probably be in a much worse state without her immediate action to calm her brother down then.

(They all knew he could probably fix all of this to look and function like before with a deal, but no one was about to make him do demony things yet, or make him feel any worse about his newly-infused inhumanity, especially Dipper himself.)

She trudged to the old, beaten-up couch and dropped into it like a heavy stone, and he mimicked the gesture on the adjacent couch cushion, again preventing himself from actually touching it, never letting go of her hand.

Her stomach chose to gurgle at her a few seconds later, calling for attention.

Both twins jerked their line of sight towards the growl in surprise. Mabel quickly got over the unexpected noise disrupting their silence- though, honestly, it should’ve been expected- and frowned at her belly, as if it offended her. “Quiet, you.”

She heard a subtle snicker next to her. She glanced over to see that Dipper was wearing the tiniest smile at the sight of his sister scolding her stomach. His hand had even warmed the slightest bit. Her own lip twitched up in response, pleased to see his mood brighten a little.

Her stomach released an even louder groan that sounded something like Waddles trying to meow.

Both burst into giggles, which quickly grew into cackling laughter louder than all of the patterns on Mabel’s many sweaters combined, because things became hilarious when you were tired and your life had officially gone off the deep-end into permanent demonic territories less than 24 hours ago and you were now scared of things that were much more terrifying than claymation movies and ancient teddy bears, and they only became funnier when Grunkle Stan started shouting from the kitchen to keep it down because he was certainly going to get deafer at this rate.

Neither even noticed that Dipper’s laughter sounded a lot harsher and closer to demented than it used to.

When they finally calmed down into sporadic chuckles, Dipper’s attention returned to why they started in the first place- apparently, Mabel was very hungry. “You, uh, sure you don’t wanna eat?” he asked warily, though still a little less concerned than he would’ve been without all that laughing to get him feeling more like his old self.

“No, I don’t really have an appetite,” she replied, as if it was an everyday occurrence for her to not want to eat- which it wasn’t. “I just wish this little grubber would agree with me!” she exclaimed as she finally let go of Dipper’s hand (how they managed to hold on to each other through that whole laugh-attack, neither knew) and squished up her belly with both of her own.

As if in response, it growled at her again. And Dipper was starting to look like a worry-wart.

She groaned, for she knew that Dipper was going to insist on her getting some breakfast, even though she really didn’t want it, both for his sake and for the fact that the thought of having even cereal wasn’t a pleasant one. It practically made her gag.



Before, it was always her pulling a puppy-dog look at him to get what she wanted, but it seemed that roles had reversed. Now, her brother’s face had contorted into something so sad and worried and guilty. She didn’t stand a chance against such an honest expression of love and concern.

She groaned even harder and averted her eyes shamefully. “Fine, Dip-butt! I’ll go get something, but only if you shut your pie-hole about it.”

As if pouncing on the words before Mabel could even think of taking them back, Dipper rushed out an eager “D̢҉e̢̕a̢͜͡l̸͠!” just as she finished her sentence, and a small blue flame puffed out his hands.

Both blinked, then their eyes widened as they realized what just happened.

Unintentionally, the twins had made their first demonic deal with each other.

Dipper’s golden pupils were quickly shrinking at the same time as his face was paling to paper white in horror, and the air around them was getting sapped of all heat. Mabel lifted up her hands to do something, but couldn’t figure out what. “Wait, Dip-” she began, only to falter in how to finish.

The TV and windows finally decided to shatter spectacularly, and the upholstered furniture started to peel, and Dipper vanished.

“D-Dipper?” Mabel whispered, confused and scared by the sudden disappearance. She frantically stood up and looked around the room. “Dipper, where are you? Come back!” Fear clenched her heart, and her voice rose into panicked octaves. “Are you okay, bro-bro? Why can’t I see you?! Dipper, come back!

She could hear a chair screeching as it scraped the floor, then footsteps plodding toward her. “Mabel, what happened?” Grunkle Stan called as he made his way to the living room. Just as he got around the corner, there was a knock at the door.


Wendy nervously tapped the toe of her boot to a frantic beat as she waited for one of the Pines to answer and let her in. Though she had never cared that much about her appearance in the first place, she knew she looked rather ragged and sleep-deprived as she stood there, especially with her lip gnawed raw from biting it and her fidgety, paranoid looks about her surroundings when nothing had ever spooked her or tackled her down in this part of the town. (Well, in normal conditions, anyway.)

Honestly, she was not entirely sure why she had come to the Shack in the first place. Yes, Dipper and Mabel were her friends, and… stuff happened that she was still trying to comprehend, but she doubted she could actually be of much help at the moment. Nothing about this whole complicated mess could be resolved with her axe or her wit.

A few seconds after she knocked, she heard the resident grumpy old man shout in her general direction, irritated, “Who’re you?!”

“Wendy!” she shouted back through the door, then decided to just let herself in like usual. She walked in to see him and Mabel, neither properly dressed for the day (though she’d seriously considered not bothering with such things, either, before coming), inspecting their immediate surroundings, eyebrows drawn together.

“Uh, hey,” she greeted, attempting to maintain her normal attitude. “What are you guys looking for?”

“Dipper disappeared,” Stan grunted, not mentioning how only Mabel could really say that, seeing as he’d already disappeared for everyone else almost a week ago.

“I thought you could always see him?” she asked the girl, who made an odd gesture between a nod and a shrug.

“I guess he teleported or something,” she muttered, sniffling and rubbing at her nose with the back of her hand.

“Huh.” As she walked in, she pointlessly looked around as well, and noted how cold air still lingered around them. In that case, he was likely still in the house. “Did you try your room?”

Mabel mumbled out something kinda like “Was about to” before sprinting up the stairs.

As she did that, Wendy turned her attention to her boss- well, she assumed he still was, even though the Mystery Shack hadn’t been open for business lately. “So, uh, how’re you guys doing?”

“Good, but we’d be better if you didn’t ask,” he muttered near-instinctively, for his heart wasn’t really in it.

She knew she actually wasn’t that much older than the twins, but she couldn’t help but feel a much bigger age gap right now. “No, really.”

Stan seemed to secretly appreciate her attempt to act like an adult. “About as good as you can expect. I don’t know what’s going on between them half the time, and it’s a little harder to be a grunkle to an invisible kid.” He glanced up to the ceiling, where they could hear Mabel rummaging through the attic and shouting her brother’s myriad of nicknames. “Like right now- I have no idea what happened, just that it got both of ‘em upset. And Mabel’d been laughing her head off right before that, too. Bipolar, those kids.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Wendy assured with a thin smile. “Me and Soos and everyone else has got your back, Stan. Yours and Dipper’s and Mabel’s.”

Clearly trying to not sound touched, because he always acted too tough for feelings, he said, “Too bad you’re all idiots.” Her smile now felt more natural.

A louder thump was heard upstairs, sounding like something heavy fell, and Mabel was threatening her brother to come out or face her bedazzler.

Stan merely grumbled, “We should probably help her out.”

Wendy nodded and propelled herself up the stairs, reaching the top much faster than him. “Yo, can I come in?”

She peered in once Mabel gave her the affirmative, and realized she’d never seen the twins’ room before. It looked rather disheveled, but she was pretty sure a lot of the mess had happened within the past few minutes. The temperature caused Wendy to shudder, yet Dipper was (apparently) still nowhere to be found. And Mabel looked very desperate to find him. Where else in the Shack would he go hide?

“Hm… It’s technically not in the Shack, but he might be on the roof,” Wendy suggested once the thought came to her.

“You’re right!” Mabel turned to face her excitedly. “Why didn’t we think of it before? Come on!” She leaped back toward the staircase, and gestured for the other two to follow her.

“Don’t bother, Stan, we’re going to the roof,” Wendy informed him, as he was about halfway done with his arduous trek up the stairs. She heard him curse under his breath as he turned to go back down.

The two girls reached the ladder at the same time, but Mabel climbed up first. Wendy poked her head out the trapdoor on the roof just as Mabel was rushing over to that one spot Dipper always sat, where she directed her anger and relief.

Wendy shyly waved, just in case Dipper was looking in her direction, and went back down the ladder. She was pretty sure it’d be better to let the twins talk privately. As she lowered the door, she let out a quiet sigh of relief. Hey, she wasn’t as useless as she thought after all.


He knew Mabel was near him before she’d started loudly calling him variations of “Dipper”. The twin-link (as he and his sister had started to refer to it) didn’t only mean that they could see and touch each other. He could feel the distress tightening her chest painfully (and not the funny kind of pain, either- wait, no, he’s not supposed to think there is a funny kind of pain), and could even approximately determine her location, if he focused enough on the link.

He hovered over the shingles on the Shack’s roof, which looked like they were precariously holding on for dear life. How the house didn’t fall apart as much as it could’ve during the battle, he had no idea.

When the “deal” happened (no no no, why’d he have to turn it into a deal?), he had actually gone straight to the place with those demon sheep, first, hoping their cuddliness would soothe the conflicting emotions roiling in his belly. (Even though it was such a small thing he agreed to, he had felt the tiniest bit of a power boost, and more than the tiniest bit of smug satisfaction, and he didn’t want to feel either of those.) He thought it actually did help, a little, nuzzling his face into the wooly back of the smallest sheep there, but he soon noticed Mabel’s anxiety, strong enough to disturb him while on a different plane of existence. And so, he returned to the roof, hoping for a little bit of time to himself before he was found.

It wasn’t a particularly pleasant time of contemplation alone, but at least Mabel didn’t see him feeling so divided, broken, and self-destructive.

“There you are, Dipper!” He didn’t bother turning around to greet his sister as she lifted herself onto the roof. “You’re such a jerk-merk, hiding up here and scaring me like that!”

She carefully stepped over to sit down beside him, hugging her legs to her chest, much like the curled-up position he had donned. She elbowed him gently. “Don’t go disappearing like that again, okay?”

“No p̢rơḿįses̀,” he mumbled into his knees, because he really doubted this would be the last time he did that. He heard the entrance to the roof gently close- must’ve been Wendy, since he heard her in the house earlier.

“Were you up here this whole time?” she asked, expression softening, now that her strong emotional state had faded down.

“I’d been somewhere else for a while,” he admitted, eyes flicking over to see her mildly confused expression. “But, well…” He turned his attention back to the view of the forest and clear, blue sky. It looked just about the same as it had all summer, somehow. “The view wasn’t as great.”

“I’m gonna miss this,” Mabel muttered wistfully, taking in the beauty of a place they just might never see again.

Even though this place of danger, adventure, and mystery had also been the place he became… this… he had to agree. “Me too.”

For a while, they just sat there, pretending things were the same as before. They never could be, they both knew that, but it was nice to indulge in wishful thinking.

As usual, it was Mabel who interrupted the silence. “Since, as far as I can tell, you’ve held your end of the agreement, I’ll go do mine.”

Dipper looked over to her incredulously. She ignored it.

“You wanna come with?” she offered as she lifted herself off the shaky shingles. “I know watching someone eat isn’t all that interesting- unless that someone is Manly Dan with all-you-can-eat pancakes- but you can if you want to. It’s okay if you’d rather stay here.”

“No, I’ll- I’ll come with.” Because only Mabel would understand what he needed to hear, that it wasn’t really that bad to make deals, especially the relatively harmless ones, and it’d be fun to see what she’ll put into her Mabel Juice this time around, and he didn’t think he deserved a sister like her.

“Great! You’ll get to say hi to Wendy!” she chirped, her usual cheerful tone starting to come easier to her. “Maybe she can reach those sprinkles Grunkle Stan put up on the top shelf so I couldn’t use them. Ooh, and I think we have some cheese, I can put some in-”

“Thanks, Mabel.” He supposed she wouldn’t think that the things she said were worth his gratitude, but he said it anyway.

Her mouth quirked up into a small smile. “No problem, bro-bro.”

Neither of them had to say it out loud, but they knew that she wanted them to stick together just as much as he did, and that meant more than either could put into words.

It was going to be difficult- talking to their parents was just going to be the first step in their long trek to a sense of normalcy, if such a thing could even exist- but they could do it if they had each other.

Mabel grabbed his hand and dragged him back inside with her, excitedly chattering about everything that came to mind, just like she would do throughout the many years ahead of them.

(Began December 30, 2016, and finished revising March 31, 2017.

Thank you to Mary P. Sue for helping me have the confidence to post this. Seriously.)

Ticket to Love

lil prompt inspired by @otpprompts

prompt:  Person A sees Person B in the waiting room of an airport and tries to get in touch with them without actually talking, eventually managing to slip a paper with their number in the book Person B was reading. How all of this happens is up to you.

i tweaked the prompt a little bit to fit the story

pairing: gajevy

word count: 500+

characters: gajeel, levy

reblogs are appreciated <3

“Flight 492, we are now boarding. Flight 492,” the bored voice said over the intercom, but Gajeel didn’t care much that his flight was boarding to leave to Magnolia. He was too distracted by the short woman sitting in the same concourse as him and reading a book.

Taking in her details, he noticed that she carried a small carry on with her, and it leaned underneath the weight. Is she really carrying a case full of books? Gajeel wondered with a smirk, watching the woman take a sip of her coffee and slide a hand through her azure hair. Her locks looked bright and shiny, and he would have to ask what hair dye she used to dye her hair that color. Not that he was going to steer away from black, of course…

Her eyes flicked to his for a moment, and she locked gazes with him as if staring him down. He gulped. Man, this woman was intense. Then, her eyes traveled back to her book as she gripped it tightly, reading the next sentence with baited breath.

It was then that Gajeel decided to walk over. He only had a few minutes before his plane departed. Besides, he didn’t know whenever he’d see her again.

Keep reading

Author- @family-business-forever

Song- Next Contestant- Nickelback

Word Count- 1371

Characters- Dean, reader, OFC!Mandy, some bar guys that are jerks

Pairings- Deanxreader

Warnings- Violence, swearing, slight mention of smut.

AU- This is my first song fic and aesthetic so bare with me! Feedback is much appreciated!

I judge by what she’s wearing
Just how many heads I’m tearing
Off of assholes coming on to her
Each night seems like it’s getting worse

Dean sat on his bed watching her get dressed into a air of tight skinny earns and a crop top. He sighed as she started putting on make-up.

“Sweetheart do you have to work tonight?” He questioned, hoping she’d say no.

“Yes Dean, I don’t like credit card fraud, I wanna earn my money, even if that means having a bunch of creeps flirt with me.” She says, as she brushes her hair out.

And I wish she’d take the night off
So I don’t have to bite off
Every asshole coming on to her
It happens every night she works

Once she’s ready she grabs her leather jacket, as Dean does the same and they both head off to Joe’s Bar. She can see Dean’s knuckles turning white around the steering wheel as he drives. She sighs before resting a hand onto his thigh, relaxing him some.

“You know I’m all yours. No ones gonna take me from you, because I don’t wanna be with anyone but you.” She says, rubbing his thigh, managing to calm him down.  Half an hour later, they pull up to the bar and get out. Before she has a chance to start walking, Dean pushes her up against the Impala and kisses her ferociously. She laughs into the kiss, before kissing him back and matches his ferociousness. Finally he pulls away, resting his forehead onto hers. “I love when you get jealous.” She says, laughing. Finally, they both walk into the building and she goes over to the bar to relieve a co-worker.

“Be careful tonight. Crowds really fired up and frisky. Is Dean here?” Her go worker, Mandy, asks.

“Yeah he’s here, you be careful too. Is Brandon here?” She asks Mandy.

“Yeah, actually I can see him ,he’s over talking to Dean. He’s probably letting Dean know about the crowd.” Mandy says, as they both look over to their two men. “Well good luck and be safe.” Mandy says as she leaves.

Right away she can feel eyes on her, and not just Deans eyes.

They’ll go and ask he DJ
And find out just what would she say
If they all tired coming on to her
Don’t they know it’s never gonna work
They think they’ll get inside her
With every drink they buy her
As they all try coming on to her
This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here come the next contestant

She’s only Ben working for an hour and already four guys bought drinks for her. Right now theres a drunk brunette flirting with her while she’s trying to do her job. She kindly avoids his flirting but he isn’t letting off anytime soon. Finally, though, he crosses the line. She gives one look to Dean and he’s there in a flash grabbing the guys hand just as the guy touched her arm.

Is that your hand on my girlfriend?
Is that your hand?
I wish you’d do it again
I’ll watch you leave here limping
There goes the next contestant

Dean ended up twisting the guys arm around and throwing him out of the bar before returning back to his booth where he can still watch her.

I even fear the ladies
They’re cool but twice as crazy
Just as bad for coming n to her
Don’t they know it’s never gonna work

About an hour later, she’s being hit on again but this time by a skinny blonde girl. The blonde buys her a few shots before striking up conversation with her. Being nice, (Y/N) talks to her, while also working. Again she avoids the blondes flirting and this time the blonde gives up and walks away.

Each time she bats an eyelash
Somebody’s grabbing her ass
Everyone keeps coming on to her
This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here comes the next contestant

As she’s serving a table drinks some collage frat boy decides he’s gonna grab her ass. She turns around with her jaw clenched, getting ready to say something until she remembers Dean is here. She turns her head around to, again look at Dean and he’s there in a flash, grabbing the frat boys hand just as it goes in for another grab. The frat boy looks up at Dean, before standing up to challenge him.

Is that you hand on my girlfriend?
Is that your hand?
I wish you’d do it again
I’ll watch you leave here limping
I wish you’d do it again
I’ll watch you leave here limping
There goes the next contestant

Grabbing her ass was the first mistake and challenging Dean was the second. At first the kid sized up his competition, before deciding that he may be able to win. That’s when he threw the first punch, missing as Dean saw it coming, caught it, twisted it behind the kids back and broke it. Not only was Dean teaching the kid a lesson, but by breaking his arm he was warning everyone else at the bar to stay away, and for awhile they did. Until some new comers came in, taking their seats at a booth, eyeing her up. She only had to get through one more hour and then she could go home.

I’m hating what she’s wearing
Everybody here keeps staring
Can’t wait ‘till they get what they deserve
This time somebody’s getting hurt

Here comes the next contestant

With only a half hour to go she brought Dean one of his final beers, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry baby, just a half hour to go and I’m all yours.” She says, kissing him on the cheek, before sauntering off, making sure to add an extra swing to her his as she goes.

They almost made it,with only ten minutes to go when one of the guys in the new group starting flirting with her, when she brought the men there third rounds of beer.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asks, trying to be charming but only managing to discuss her, with his yellow teethed smile.

“(Y/N).” Is all she said as she laid the men’s drinks down, and collected their empty bottles.

“Well, (Y/N). How about you let me give you a ride home after you get off, huh?” He asks, again trying to be charming but failing miserably.

“No, I think I’d much rather go home with my boyfriend and not some disgusting druggy, sorry.” She said, sassily.

“Now come on sweetheart, don’t you wanna be with a real man?” He asks, opening his arms to show that, he thinks, he has a nice body.

“A real man? Oh please, I can see the ring on your finger, no real man goes out to a bar with his buddies and tries to hook up with a waitress who already told you was taken. Now go home to your wife and get some help.” She says, before turning around only for the man to grab her arm ruffly and yank her back around, and crash his lips to hers. She ties to pull away, but to no avail since he has a death grip on her arm.

Dean sees everything and is not happy as he storms over to the man and yanks him off her.

Is that your hand on my girlfriend?
Is that your hand?
I wish you’d do it again
I’ll watch you leave here limping
I wish you’d do it again
I’ll watch you leave here limping

I wish you’d do it again
(Each night seems it it’s getting worse)
I wish you’d do it again
(This time somebody’s getting hurt)

There goes the next contestant

Dean was so furious that he put the guy in the hospital with four cracked ribs, a shattered nose, a broken wrist, and one hell of a concussion. That night they went home and Dean showed what a real man was.