man wearing bikini


(Okay, this is really long, omg. This is all from my fanfic and Ibjust copied and pasted it from Microoft Word so I may have skipped over a few pronouns and it may say ‘I’ or ‘me’ instead of ‘you’ I’m really sorry. I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet. It’s 2 pm. Send help.)

“So you want me to what? Be a cut man?!” You shouted. “Wear a bikini and walk around with a fucking sign?!”

“Well, maybe not a bikini.” he snorted. 

“Watch it, ass hat.” Dean warned. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Zachariah shrugged at you. “You live through this.”

“But Sam and Dean don’t!” 

“But you do.” he growled, prowling forward and gripping your face in one of his hand, squeezing hard enough to make your jaw pop. You scowled and spit in his face. 

“If they die, I do too.”

“See that doesn’t work, someone has to write about this. And that someone is you.” Zachariah pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped your spit off his face. 

“Why does it have to be me?!” 

“Because… it was written, so it must be.” he said slowly. “Be a nice little girl and do what you’re told.”

“See, that doesn’t work…” you mocked him. “If you hadn’t noticed, Winchesters don’t tend to follow rules very well, especially your rules.”

“Let me spell this out for you, Y/N, because you seem to be missing the point. You don’t have a choice. You will say yes.”

“Fuck. You.” You spat again. 

“Maybe later…” he smiled sickly. “When my other methods fail, we may have to resort to that.” 

This sent Dean into a frenzy. “I’ll rip your lungs out! Don’t touch her!” he growled, struggling against the angel holding him along with Sam and yourself. “I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch.” 

“She’s hardly my type…” Zachariah muttered. “I guess you’ll do.” he ran his finger of your cheek and you chomped down but it was like biting down on concrete and didn’t affect him. You raised my feet off the ground and slammed the bottom of your boots against his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. He straightened up and walked back to you, sending a rock hard fist into your stomach. “Get her up.” he demanded the angel holding you. He delivered four more blows, leaving you hunched over, dry heaving. “This would be so much easier for you if you’d accept my offer.” 

“Go to hell.” you coughed. 

“Very original.” 

“Leave her alone!” Dean yelled.

“Maybe we could use Chuck, huh? The prophet. Your husband, right, Y/N. Maybe if we threw his around a little, it might persuade you to agree to our terms. 

“Don’t you dare, you son of a bitch.” You screamed. “Don’t you fucking dare!” he put two fingers to your forehead and you were suddenly cold, all you could see was white. You were gasping for air but your couldn’t breathe. 

“Y/N!” you heard your brother scream but you couldn’t answer. “Y/N.” he yelled again, only it didn’t sound as much like him. “Y/N, honey,” it sounded like Chuck. You didn’t remember when the white light faded to black but it did. There was a quiet, constant sound like an air conditioner or a fan all around you.Someone was shaking you. “Are you okay?” Chuck asked. “It was a dream, okay? You’re alright.” 

“Chuck?” you asked. 

“Yea,” he smiled as you opened your eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry I woke you, it’s just you seemed like you were having a bad dream and we’re gonna land in about thirty minutes.” 

“What? Land where?” 

“Home, baby.” Your husband chuckled. “Are you okay?” he asked when he noticed you still hadn’t recovered from your ‘dream.’

“I’m… I had this dream.” you said, sitting up in your plane seat. 

“Well… Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Sam, Dean, and I were in heaven, Zachariah caught us and he was trying to get us to agree to the part he wants us to play.” 

“That’s such a good idea, honey, you’re brilliant.” Chuck beamed, leaning away from you to get a notebook out of your purse and a pen and he began writing.

“What?” you scratched your head. 

“Are you sure about Heaven though? I mean how would they get there?” he asked. “It doesn’t matter. You’re so great.” he kissed your head. 

“Hey,” a young woman stood in the isle beside Chuck. “Are you Chuck and Y/N Shurley?” she asked.

“Yes.” Chuck’s voice was encouraging. “Can we do something for you?” 

“I mean, I just had my copy of ‘Swan Song’ in my bag and I was wondering if you both could sign it for me? I’m sorry, I’m just a huge fan of your writing. ‘Supernatural’ is the best.” 

“Thank you so much, of course we’ll sign your book.” Chuck nodded, taking the book into his hands, signing it with the pen he took from your purse before handing it to you.

“And can I get a quick picture?” 

“Sure.” Chuck answered. You noticed the shirt she had on, pictures of your brothers standing on either side of you. 

“Oh my God,” you went pale.

“What?” Chuck asked. “What’s wrong?” 

“Are you okay?” the girl asked.

“Yea…” You knew you couldn’t say what was wrong out loud. “I just… love your shirt.” you lied. It was freaky.

“Oh,” she blushed. “Thank you.” she smiled as she raised her phone and included you and Chuck in the picture. 

“I need to call my brothers when we land.” you whispered when the girl left. 


“Sam and Dean?” 

“Baby, those are just characters.” he laughed. “Remind me not to let you drink before you go to sleep anymore.” he touched your nose with his finger as he smiled at you before he kissed your cheek and looked forward at the TV in the back of the seat in front of you.  

anonymous asked:

Oh my goddd I know that Erejean isn't exactly your thing but I immediately imagined them for this one, obviously you don't have to do it! (314):Had an orgasm and got a charley horse at the same time. It was a multi-purpose scream.

Oh god, anon. You don’t know what you’ve done. I call this one “Jean & Eren and the horrible dorm furniture.” Totally not based on a true story. 

2.3k of erejean nonsense.

There’s a strange disconnect between how the school treats hypothetical sex and the act itself. For example, Jean passed several posters reading, “always use protection,” “always ask for consent,” “a person can’t consent if they’re intoxicated” and then a very muscular man wearing a bikini top and a tutu handed out condoms on the diag.

“Thanks Reiner!” Eren shouted, grabbing a handful and waving at the condom fairy who waved back with their wand.

And then there was the actual result.

“What is that?” Jean pointed.

“My dorm room…” Eren said, because it was obvious.

“No, where is your bed?”

“There,” Eren pointed.

“Up…there?” Jean asked incredulously.

“Haven’t you ever seen a loft set up?”

The University furniture was part of those stackable sets, modular blocks customizable for each room. Of course, they were purchased several years after the University was built and not all rooms were as flexible with the furniture. So Eren had his bed situated over his desk and bookshelves, but the ceiling was so low, Jean had no idea how he crawled up there. To make things worse, a large pipe ran the length of the room, meaning not only was the ceiling low but Eren was sleeping with a pipe over his head. It was like every poster was telling Jean to have wild amazing college sex and the very infrastructure said, “HAHA ,TRY IT.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights,” Eren said critically.

“I just don’t understand why it’s all the way up there, when you have plenty of space here,” Jean said, indicating the ample floor space.

“I like the space for my morning workouts,” Eren informed Jean.

God bless those morning workouts, Jean thought, eyeing the firm curve of Eren’s bicep. Eren seemed to sense what Jean was thinking because he stretched out his arms over his head. Fuck.

“Where’s your ladder?” Jean asked, looking around.

“Oh, outside my window so Armin and Mikasa can sneak in.”

Oh, right. You needed a keycard to get into the dorms and Armin and Mikasa both lived across the road. Eren’s dorm was on the first floor, but the first floor was raised so his window was unreachable, hence the ladder. Eren had also dispensed with the safety rail in the front, which made Jean a little queasy, what if you rolled off in the middle of the night?

“So how do you get up?”

“Like so!” Eren said.

He reached up and pulled himself up with those gorgeous biceps, wiggling along like a snake on its belly.

“Can you even sit upright?” Jean asked?

“Well, sortof,” Eren said, his feet dangling off the edge. “If I slouch.”

Jean stared.

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