#I drew the funny fish man tumblr am I cool please say yes

[babygirlalaura]

serving cunt 💅 gettin cash 💸 💰 payingfor crimes that he did not commit 😎 🔪

[pinesconessecrets]

Pinescone Secret Santa

AN: 

Pinescone Secret Santa for @oakwoodouroboros-fics-and-art on tumblr!

Takes place after Gravity Falls. Wirt and Greg have gone up to Gravity Falls with Dipper and his family, and while everyone else is out, Dipper and Wirt decide to do a little hiking on their own.

Wirt wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was winter up in Gravity Falls, and he and his brother were spending their holiday vacation with the Pines family. Everyone else was out of the Shack visiting with friends, and Dipper had wanted to take Wirt on a hike through the woods. It was pretty cold for a hike, and Wirt could take or leave the forest, given some of his past experiences. But Dipper’s eyes had shone with excitement, and he was so eager to show Wirt his favorite bits of Gravity Falls weirdness, that Wirt couldn’t help but say yes. So they’d bundled up in sweaters and gloves, packed some food, and set off into the forest.

That was five hours ago.

Wirt took off his gloves. Hiking had made him way too hot, and his feet were aching. “Dipper, if we are lost in the woods again…”

“We’re not lost!”

“We’ve been hiking for hours. In circles. See that tree?” He pointed. “That’s from twenty minutes ago. When I lost my sanity.”

Dipper stopped and looked around. They’d reached a small, flat clearing, still carpeted with grass even with the approaching winter. “Well…I guess this is as good a place as any to –”

Wirt dropped his backpack with a thud and collapsed to the ground.

“– stop. Er…yeah.”

Wirt rolled over onto his back and let his arms flop out to the sides. “I feel a sudden and profound kinship with Sisyphus, pushing his boulder time and again to the top of the hill, just as we circle endlessly in this eternal forest. I am weary in my very soul.”

Dipper cracked a grin. “Sorry, Wirt.”

Wirt waved a hand and then let it drop back to the grass with a sigh, closing his eyes. The chilled ground felt great through his sweater. Not to mention that his feet and legs were practically creaking with relief at the opportunity to rest. It sort of reminded him of when he and Greg slept in the woods in the unknown. Right now Greg was off doing who-knew-what with Dipper’s sister, Mabel. He wondered if Greg was as tired as Wirt felt right now.

There came a scratching noise.

He cracked an eye open. Dipper was scribbling furiously in his journal.

“Oh, please tell me there’s not some magic bug thing in my hair.”

“Hang on one second, don’t move.”

Wirt swallowed. “There is, isn’t there? Oh man, if my hair turns blue like last time I –”

“Tada!”

Dipper held up his journal. He’d drawn a sketch of Wirt laying in the clearing, completely relaxed in the downy grass, an expression of perfect peace on his face.

Wirt blushed. “That is so unfairly cute.”

“Yes, you are!” Dipper said cheerfully, snapping the book shut. “I’ve gotta make a record of every amazing thing I see. And that includes a certain future Poet Laureate.”

“Don’t forget his muse, with the blessing of the heavens on his brow and the map to my heart in his hands.”

“Oh now who’s being unfairly cute?”

Dipper grinned and lay down on the grass next to Wirt, his head pillowed on Wirt’s arm. Wirt scooted him closer and turned, so Dipper’s hair brushed against his cheek like butterfly wings. Dipper drew one arm around Wirt and they lay there, just breathing, the quiet noises of the forest drifting over them, the cool air kissing their cheeks. He was already cooling off, but Dipper’s body radiated warmth and comfort. He sighed deeply. Maybe hiking for hours wasn’t so bad after all.

Suddenly Dipper’s radio crackled with static.

“Dipper? Are you there?”

Dipper groaned and reached for the radio. “Yeah, Mabel, I’m here.”

“You’re back home by now, right?”

“No, but we’re close.” Wirt swatted him playfully and Dipper smothered a laugh. “Sort of close. Why?”

“So HAHA FUNNY STORY! You know that magic weather druid-rock we found last Spring and weren’t supposed to touch?”

“You didn’t.”

A shadow fell over them and they looked up. A massive wall of clouds was slowly moving across the sky, dark and foreboding. The air temperature started dropping so fast the hairs on Wirt’s arms stood straight up.

There was a buzz of static. “– to show Grunkle Ford!” Mabel said. “We’re all up at the Manor, so we’re inside and we’re safe – Greg too – only we might have caused a –” A burst of static cut her off. The storm was so vast and heavy Wirt’s ears actually popped from the pressure, and he could feel the weight of it on his chest. Thunder boomed and the clouds unleashed a blinding fury of snow and ice.

“BLIZZARD!”

They jumped to their feet and ran. Wind struck their backs and thin shards of ice cut at their hands and faces. And they were just at the edge of it!

“Dipper! Where’s the Shack?!”

“Dead ahead, I think!”

“You think?!” Wirt yelled. “This is it! We’re gonna get caught in a snowstorm and freeze to death!”

“Less talking, more AAH!”

They braked hard as a tree in front of them gave a mighty CRACK and one of the upper limbs began to fall. Dipper slammed into Wirt’s side, knocking them to the right. He hit the ground with a thud and heard Dipper give a sharp cry.

“Dipper!”

“I’m fine!”

He wiggled out from the edge of the branch, his backpack slung on his arm. Wirt pulled him out the rest of the way, squinting as snowflakes sliced at his eyes and face. The snow was thickening and the wind was now so strong Wirt was crouching to keep from being swept away.

“THE SHACK!” he yelled over the gale.

Dipper started to point and gasped, holding his arm. Wirt grabbed his boyfriend around the shoulders and ran, lengthening his stride. The wind screamed in his ear. He glanced back and saw nothing but a wall of pure white, swallowing whole trees, eating up the ground like a rabid beast. He ran faster but the storm was practically on top of them. They’d be swallowed up in seconds.  His heart pounded.

Oh man oh man we’re gonna die we’re gonna –

Dipper yanked his hair and yelled. The Shack was ahead of them, slightly to the left, its dark peak already half-covered in white. He ran toward it. His legs ached and his lungs screamed and the snow drove icy fingers of death down his back –

They reached the door and Dipper hurled himself at it, forcing it open. Wirt tripped and crashed to the floor, dragging Dipper down with him. Dipper flung out a leg and kicked the door shut just as the blizzard reached the Shack, pounding furiously at the door, shaking the windows, whistling angrily from somewhere in the rafters like a very ticked-off tea kettle. The already-dark cabin slipped fully into the shadows as the windows darkened, so completely full of snow it was like someone had pressed pillows to every pane. The rafters creaked and groaned, and the shingles rattled, but the bones of the house stood firm.

For a second Wirt and Dipper lay on the floor, limbs tangled together, both of them breathing hard. Then Wirt dropped to the floor and started laughing.

“We made it!” he gasped. “I can’t believe we made it!”

Dipper went down on his elbow, half-smiling. “Yeah! Funny weather though! Oregon, am I right?”

Wirt laughed harder. It wasn’t even that funny, and at the same time he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life. The wind moaned against the wall and Wirt couldn’t catch his breath for laughing. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

“Geez, Wirt,” Dipper chuckled, raising a hand to push his damp bangs out of his eyes. Instantly his face turned white and he dropped his hand.

“Wh-what?” Wirt gasped, glancing up at Dipper. “You – okay?”

Dipper didn’t answer, just sat up with a low hiss, one arm pressing the other to his side. “I think the branch got me.”

Wirt sat up too, still breathing hard, and touched his boyfriend’s shoulder. Dipper turned obligingly.

Wirt held back a hiss of his own. The tree limb must’ve hit Dipper with its outermost branches – the ones that weren’t as heavy, but were even more flexible. It had cut across Dipper’s back like a whip, slicing a jagged line in Dipper’s sweater and leaving a nasty welt. Wirt very carefully pulled the fabric away from the skin and saw bruises already darkening along the line.

“It really stings,” Dipper said through gritted teeth. His teeth were starting to chatter, too. They were both nearly soaked from the snow, and Wirt’s socks were soggy with melted ice. He shivered.

One of his fingertips brushed Dipper’s wound and he jolted.

“S-sorry,” Wirt stammered. “Can you walk? If you g-get us dry clothes, I’ll m-m-make something to w-warm us up.”

“We should g-get these off, first,” Dipper said, motioning to their clothes. “At least our shirts and socks.”

Wirt was really freezing now, and his fingers felt like frozen fish sticks, but he grudgingly complied. When he took off his socks his feet were blue – actually blue, like a cold winter lake. But the worst part was taking off Dipper’s sweater. Wirt had to help him, and even then Dipper’s face was tight with pain.

They left their clothes by the door and stumbled down the hall together. Dipper and Mabel were staying in the attic for the summer, but the stairs might be dangerous with their lack of coordination, so they went to the study where Wirt was staying and grabbed two pairs of pants and some of his thickest sweaters. Dipper stepped into the hallway to get changed.

If Wirt thought his legs had ached before, it was nothing compared to how they felt now. They prickled and ached and were somehow weirdly hot even though he was freezing. And they seem to weigh about 200 pounds each. Changing into sweatpants left him shaking with exhaustion. When he was done he leaned heavily on the dresser, debating the merits of collapsing face-first on the floor.

Dipper knocked at the door. “Wirt?”

“Almost done.” The door looked so far away.

“Hurry. We need to start a fire and get draaagh…”

Wirt forced his legs to the door and opened it. Dipper had braced himself against the wall, holding his shoulder. He grinned weakly.

“Th-thought that’d get you.”

Wirt winced and pulled Dipper towards him, so he was leaning on Wirt instead of the wall. They moved stiffly back to the front of the Shack and into the parlor, the wind whistling bitterly in the cracks of the Shack.

Dipper’s friend (Soup? Stew?) had turned the parlor into a second living room, with two big couches that folded out into beds for the old uncle guys. It had a big rug, a coffee table, some book cases, and most importantly, a brick fire place complete with a stack of wood three feet high.

Dipper let go of Wirt and reached for the lighter and the newspaper on the coffee table. Wirt knelt on the brick and began loading log after log into the hearth.

“Easy,” Dipper said, with a small laugh. “If you pile on t-too many the f-f-fire won’t start.”

“I will never b-be warm ag-g-gain,” Wirt chattered. “Not unless we s-s-set the whole Sh-Shack on fire.”

“Let’s p-put a pin in that.”

Dipper pulled sheets of paper from the newspaper and threw them on the logs, then clicked the lighter. Wirt forced himself to stand up, staggered over to a couch, and grabbed the thick blankets that had been piled on top. He came back and sat down, pulling the blankets around them as tight as he could without scraping Dipper’s back.

“We should really di-disinfect that,” Wirt muttered.

“Mmm.”

The storm was still pounding outside. They huddled together and sat so close to the fire their knees practically touched the metal grate. For a second Wirt wondered whether Greg was okay (haha, whether), but then he remembered Mabel had said they were all safe and sound.

A sudden breath of cold air touched Wirt’s neck and he shivered, scooting even closer to Dipper. His boyfriend dropped his head on Wirt’s shoulder with a sigh. Wirt’s eyelids drooped. The flames flickered higher, warming his numb face, making his cheeks tingle. He was so heavy, and so, so tired…

Dipper woke up slowly. His first thought was that he and Wirt had fallen asleep in the clearing, and his back sort of hurt because he’d laid down on some rocks. Then the full memory of the blizzard slammed into his brain and the pain on his back roared to life.

“Ow ow ow owwww,” he muttered. He opened his eyes.

He and Wirt had fallen asleep in front of the fire. The storm was still going outside, and the fire had burned low. But he was wrapped up in thick warm blankets, and Wirt had somehow tipped over and sprawled across Dipper’s lap like blanket, snoring and all. Dipper smiled and gently brushed Wirt’s bangs from his face.

Wirt gave a snort and opened his eyes, glancing up at Dipper.

“Are we dead?” Wirt asked. “Because all of my muscles hurt like we’re dead.”

Dipper grinned. “If we are, then we must be in heaven…because I think I see an angel.”

Wirt groaned. “Well you poetry is clearly dead…”

Dipper laughed and then winced as the skin on his back pulled. Wirt groaned and struggled to sit up, wiping at his face with his hand.

“Alright, okay, I’m awake. Can you turn so I can see your back?”

He did, letting the blanket fall away. Wirt pulled up his shirt, carefully avoiding touching it.

“Okay, well the good news is, I don’t see broken skin. The bad news is that all the skin I do see involves all the colors of the rainbow.”

“Hurts like it does,” Dipper admitted. “Honestly it’s a good thing Mabel does such good knitting, or that thing probably would’ve sliced me way worse.”

He held back a hiss when Wirt let the shirt fall down. Wirt tucked the blanket carefully around Dipper again and then leaned forward to add more wood to the fire.

“Okay,” Wirt said, standing up. “I’m going to get some ice for that –”

Dipper groaned. “Not more ice.”

“– and you are going to sit there like a good little mollusk until I get back.”

“Can you at least bring snacks?”

“Yes, but only for me.”

Dipper let out a smothered snort. Wirt moved away, yawning, and in a minute he was out of sight.

Dipper looked around. It was warm, but it was also pretty dark in here, since the only illumination was the fire. He got to his feet slowly, using the coffee table for balance. His joints popped and cracked and he suddenly had a deep sympathy for his Grunkle Stan’s arthritis. He stepped carefully to the standing lamp and flicked on the light. Instantly the whole room looked much brighter, warmer, and safer, in spite of the snow still hurling itself against the glass. He looked around again. Now if only he could find…aha! Right by Great-Uncle Ford’s sofa was a fresh pad of paper and a pen. Perfect.

When Wirt came back he had again situated himself in front of the fire, hiding what he’d done under his blanket.

“Oh good!” he said, spotting the tray in Wirt’s hands. “You brought food! You are my favorite person ever I am so hungry.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “You turned on the light? I told you not to get up. Now I get to eat the snacks all by myself.”

“Oh c'moooon,” Dipper groaned. He looked at Wirt with his best puppy dog eyes. “Please? I’m so hungry I’m dying…”

“Oh, fine,” Wirt mumbled, blushing bright red. “But ice pack first. Put it on your back and then hold it there by leaning against the coffee table.”

Wirt handed him the ice and Dipper complied, settling the blanket carefully around him. Wirt set down the tray and they made short work of the pretzels, Smoreos, and instant hot chocolate loaded with marshmallows.

“How long d'you think the storm’s gonna last?” Wirt said minutes, nodding toward the window, a Smoreo in his hand.

Dipper shrugged. “Probably until my Great-Uncle Ford can figure out a way to turn off the magic rock. So not long. I don’t know how long we were asleep, though, so who knows how long it’s been since it started.”

“I know.” Wirt yawned hugely. “Feels like we napped for days and I’m still tired.”

He grinned. “That’ll happen when you run like crazy from a blizzard after five hours of hiking.”

“On that note –” Wirt pointed at Dipper “I am never ever hiking with you again. I happen to like my nose on my body, not sliced off by frostbite’s ruthless cleaver.”

“Aw, c'mon! This was a one time thing!” Dipper nudged him with an elbow. “You know you were having tons of fun until the deadly blizzard!”

Wirt rolled his eyes. “Keywords in there are ‘deadly blizzard’, Dipper.  Bilzzards are not my thing.“

“Fair point, fair point. Counterpoint, if you don’t hike with me, then you will be deprived of epic poetry material forever. Two dashing young heroes narrowly escaping the indomitable forces of nature? Tell methat doesn’t have ‘epic’ written all over it.”

“Weeeeeeelllll…”  Wurt was trying not to smile. 

Dipper grinned. “Alright, then…would this change your mind?”

He pulled Ford’s notepad from under his blanket and held it up. On it he had drawn himself and Wirt asleep in front of the fire, one of Dipper’s arms draped across Wirt’s shoulders, with Wirt pillowed in Dipper’s lap, ensconced in layers of thick fluffy blankets.

Wirt turned bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. “That is so unfairly cute.”

Dipper laughed (carefully) and patted the floor next to him, inviting Wirt to come closer. Wirt grabbed his blankets and obliged, pulling the tray closer. He grabbed the pot of hot chocolate from the tray and refilled both their cups, then settled back comfortably against the coffee table. They weren’t cold anymore, but they pressed together anyway, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. The ice was doing wonders for his back, too. He took another sip of chocolate so he wouldn’t get too cold. The steam from the mug was soft and soothing.

Suddenly Wirt shifted. “Uh, Dipper, why is there a face in the flames?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up. “Oh that’s just one of those little soot ball things. Like from that one movie with the cranky girl who does all the chores? Mabel named it Cinderfuzzyballofcutenessella, but we just call it Fuzzy.”

Wirt grumbled under his breath. “The next time I see your sister remind me keep her far, far, far away from anything paranormal.”

Dipper chuckled and snuggled closer to Wirt. The fire burned strong and bright in the hearth, the smell of chocolate filled the air, and Wirt’s whole body warmed Dipper right to his soul, filling him with peace.

He rested his head on Wirt’s shoulder and drifted back to sleep.

He rested his head on Wirt’s shoulder and drifted back to sleep.

[freefallingforfanfiction]

Super Strange Things

Chapter Three: I Don’t Give A Damn ‘Bout My Bad Reputation  

Pairing: Eventual Johnathan Byers x Reader

Overall Summary: Y/N Winchester, middle child of John and Mary Winchester, arrives in Hawking’s with her family to investigate a series of disappearances and hearsay of a strange, faceless monster, along with a girl who can supposedly move things with her mind.

This Chapter: Y/N and Jonathan receive a less than fun visit from Steve and his crew. 

Warning: Warped time line (like music and birthdates of certain characters).

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @bands-and-shietz

Authors Note:  Friendly suggestion to turn off Tumblr’s  “Best Stuff First” in your dash board settings as it is hurting smaller blogs and lessening the material you see.

One of the disadvantages of being below the average height was that it made everything harder to reach, harder to see. Your brothers, it had seemed, had stolen every single height gene that either side of your family had to offer, and you would by ling if you said you weren’t just the slightest bit bitter about it.

This reason alone would be why you were currently standing atop the bench of one of the outdoor tables, your right hand shielding the bright sunlight from your E/C irises as you looked for your new found friend, Jonathan.

He had said to meet him outside after school so that the two of you could head to his house so he could teach you how to take proper photos in the daylight. It had been a long time since you were this excited, you were practically vibrating with energy atop that table with the passing students giving you strange glances, but you didn’t really care. You were focused on finding Jonathan, and when you finally spotted him, he leaning against a pole, trying to be subtle about looking for you. But you could see his head slowly turning as his gaze raked over the school yard.

With a satisfied smile, you jumped from the picnic table and started to make your way over to him, slinging your school bag over your shoulder, as you had plopped it down while you were searching.

“Hello,” you chirped, causing Jonathan to jump slightly.

“Hey,” he greeted, shifting his shoulders awkwardly. The vast majority of his mannerisms seemed to be laced with ineptness, which you found oddly endearing. “You wanna get going?”

“Sure,” you replied, linking you flannel covered arm through his jacketed one. Jonathan stiffened at your action, but you ignored his stiffness and began to walk towards his old, beat up car. He eased into his position along the way, and you found yourself smiling lightly as you walked, enjoying the feeling of your new friend on your arm, that is, until you saw a few figures perched up against Jonathan’s car, watching the two of you approach. You felt Jonathan go rigid, and you quirked your head to the side.

“Whose that leaning on your car?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion.

“Trouble,” Jonathan muttered as he began to walk towards the car, breaking from your hold as he put himself in front of you, as the two of you approached the group of students leering at him. You followed behind closely, watching the group of kids blatantly, a strut in your step that you always seemed to acquire when confrontation arose.

“Hey man,” a boy with large hair stepped forward, his words were friendly, but his eyes and stance said otherwise.

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asked, his voice small.

The boy who had first spoken, Steve maybe? You were pretty sure you had heard things about him around school. One of the popular kids, maybe. You were going to call him Steve either way. Steve stared at Jonathan accusingly, “Nicole here was just telling us about your work.”

Nicole, you assumed, was the red head with longer hair, who perked up at the mention of herself.

“We heard great things,” Carol, an obnoxious girl from you biology class, said. Her voice was a little too cheery for your liking.

“Yea,” a guy with a face plastered full of freckles said, “Sounds real cool.”

“We’d just love to take a look,” Steve said, looking down at Jonathan, “You know, being connoisseurs of art.”

You had come to a halt beside Jonathan, crossing your arms and cocking your right up out,  your intense E/C gaze sweeping over the group of students, the two girls stared back at you, but dared not say a word. You were very intimidating when mad, even despite your smaller stature, and you damn well knew it.

What the fuck is going on here? You wondered to yourself.

But as you stared at the accusing faces the group of students were giving you, it hit you, what the group was talking about. “We don’t want to stumble into Steve’s yard.” This must have been the people that were outside last night around the pool. They were talking about the pictures you had taken of them the night before when Jonathan was trying to teach you to use his camera.

“Ohhhh,” you grinned, the wheels in your heading turning quickly in hopes of diffusing the situation. You unzipped Jonathan’s backpack and stuffed your hand inside, fishing around for the binder that he kept his photos in. When you found it, you drew it out and opened it up, flipping through Jonathan’s pristine shots until your eyes landed on the out of focus photos you had undoubtedly taken the night before.

“Here, you must be talking about these things I took last night.”

Jonatan shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off as you focused on Steve.

“Last night Jon and I ran into each other in the woods where the police department found Will’s bike. Jon was looking for clues, I was looking for something my dad had dropped earlier that day, he’s the FBI agent on the case you see,”

Steve watched you with his arms crossed over his chest, he had the pictures clutched in his right hand but had yet to look at them, opting to watch you re tell the vents that had occurred last night. You figured by now he would have figured out Dean, who had established himself a popular playboy in just one short day, was your older brother. And it only took a few interactions with your elder brother to understand that he would fuck up anyone’s world if they tried something funny with you or Sammy. He was playing it safe. A smart move on his behalf.

“I asked Jonathan if he could teach me to take pictures like him, I’d always want to learn, but we never stayed in once place long enough to, not that my dad would ever buy me a camera anyway but, long story short. He agreed to teach me, and we were taking some other photos of things around the site when we heard a scream, which we ran to investigate. When we saw it was just you guys partying, Jon wanted to leave. But there’s was a lot of light right there, so I could see what I was doing, so I just wanted to snap a few and see what I needed improving on,” you paused and shrugged your shoulders.

“Jon had to develop them while I was in lit class, and we were just heading to his house to go over them, then trash them. I’ll be honest, I never really thought about how weird it was until now.”

“She’s just trying to cover for him,” the freckled boy in the back accused.

“Yea, no.” You replied with a roll of your E/C eyes. “Just telling the truth, if you look at the ones I just handed, Steve, I think? Is that your name? That’s what I’ve decided to call you, anyway, if you look at the photos I’ve handed Steve you will see that those photos are armature hour, while these are, quite frankly, gallery worthy.” You held up Jonathan’s binder, showing off a few of his faultless photos to the group.

Steve analyzed the two examples carefully, frowning as he looked at your photos.

“You could try not to look so disappointed, Steve. I am still new at that,” you grumbled sarcastically.

Carol peeked over his shoulder, her face scrunching up as she took some of the photos from Steve. “This isn’t creepy at all,” she said, looking at the photos in disgust.

“Oh please, you can’t even make out who you are in most of these,” you snapped.

“You do realize this is called stalking?” Steve asked, looking at Jonathan.

“Hey,” you said, snapping your fingers to avert Steve’s outrage back onto you, “Your issue is with me, not with him. Eyes over here.”

“And fist of all, stalking is an unwanted obsession by an individual over an elongated period of time. So, going by that definition, I am not a stalker, as I’ve only been in town for under a week and have no clue as to who any of you are,” you paused, then pointed at Carol, “Except for her, she’s the annoying girl in my bio class. Other than that, I don’t even know who the fuck you are. You never even told me if your name is actually Steve,”

“Yes,” the boy nearly shouted in frustration, “My name is Steve!”

“Finally,” you smirked, “Some answers.”

“You’re not the ones asking questions here,” the other boy chimed in. You ignored him.

“Also, don’t flatter yourselves. You’re not important enough, or good looking enough for me to stalk. Especially you, human freckle, wipe that grin off your face.” You snapped at the chuckling boy.

“So that’s it then,” Steve asked, “You just took a couple of photos of us as photography classes?”

“Yea, that’s literally it.” You said as you uncrossed your arms and put them on your hips.

“What’s going on?” a small voice asked. You turned your head slowly and scanned the new arrival over. You weren’t sure what her name was, but you had seen her in a few of your classes yesterday, along with her red headed friend. This girl was much shorter than her best friend, with pretty, long wavy brown hair, but her face, though beautiful, was contorted with worry.

“The star of the show,” Carol greeted with her hands gesturing to the upcoming girl, “These creeps were spying on us.”

“Literally not spying.” You dismissed with a wave of your hand. You were ignored, however, as Steve squared up with Jonathan, fixated on the boy for some reason.

“He was probably gonna save this one for later,” Carol said as she handed the new girl a photo from the stack. Your face contorted in confusion at wat the insufferable girl could be talking about.

“Hey,” you yelled at Steve. “What did I tell you? Your issue is with me, leave Jon alone!”

“Oh shut up,” Steve snapped. “We know your covering for him.”

Steve rounded on Jonathan once more while you fumed silently, to angry to form a coherent sentence as you shook in place. Steve poked Jonathan in the chest, and Jonathan just shrank into himself, taking the abuse.

“I don’t know why you’re covering for him though, because, look at him, he knows he did wrong. But that’s the thing about perverts, it’s hardwired into them. They just can’t help themselves.”

Steve began to rip the photos up in front of you, not that it bothered you. You could always take new photos, of things you’d rather photograph anyway, however what bother you was the way he was talking to Jonathan.

“How can we help?” the boy with the freckles asked.

“We take away his toy,” Steve said.

“No!” You and Jonathan cried out simultaneously.

“No it’s not his fault, leave his camera alone! It was me, it was me!” you screamed, lunging forward to grab a hold of Steve as he grabbed Jonathans backpack from off of the boys shoulder, shoving him back a few steps for resisting. But the freckled boy grabbed a hold of you from behind and hugged you to his chest.

“Get the fuck off of me!” you screamed, thrashing around in the boys arms. You used the back of your head to head butt the boy, but he only grunted and held you tighter.

“Hey, its ok, it’s ok,” Steve told the boy, motioning for him to release you.

“Here you go man,” Steve said, holding out the camera for Jonathan to take. He lunged forward, but he wasn’t fast enough to catch it when Steve suddenly dropped it. It hit the cemented parking lot with a loud crack, causing you to flinch.

“Opps,” Steve said as he looked down at the camera.

Jonathan trembled as he bent down to gather up the broken pieces of his beloved possession, his lip quivered as the people surrounding you laughed, and the sight of your new friend, on the ground like that, threw you into a rage.

“What the FUCK dude?” you yelled, lunging forward to snatch Steve up. However, the boy behind you grabbed you again, only this time, you brought your foot up to connect with his groin. He let out a strangled cry as he went to cup his injury, but you gave him little time to do so, as you elbowed him in the nose sending him falling backwards on his butt.

“Come here you,” you roared, you stalked forward as caught Steve by the collar of his pretty boy shirt and drug him down to your height.

“Why the actual fuck would you do that?” you seethed, looking into the freighted eyes of the older boy. “I told you it was me you idiot, what is your vendetta against Johnathan?”

“He’s a creep,” Steve spat at you, “That’s my problem.”

“He is not a creep you egotistical piece of-” you words were cut off as someone grabbed two fistfuls of your flannel and threw you backwards. Your head hit the ground, but not hard enough to keep you down.

“Y/N!” you heard Jonathan cry, but you were already hauling yourself up off the ground, your E/C irises flashing dangerously as you swept your H/L locks from your face, the loose braid you had them in had come undone during your fight.

You laughed dangerously, “Come here you little bastard,” you snarled as you rounded on the freckled boy, you brought your fist up in the air, ready to deck the boy, when a strong voice boomed over the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean yelled as he stalked towards you. His fists were clenched at his sides, his jacket flapped in the wind as he made his way over to you with a grim face.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“Your sister is fucking crazy,” the freckled kid said, wiping some of the blood oozing from his nose off with his lower arm.

“Fuck you,” you growled.

“Y/N, it’s alright,” Jonathan said from behind you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t noticed the boy creeping up behind you in an attempt to grab and sooth your anger.

“No,” you swallowed, “It’s not alright. They can’t just treat you like that,” you protested.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder, “I’m use to it.”

“But you shouldn’t be,” you whispered back.

“Y/N,” Dean boomed, “What happed?”

“What happened is your sister and her friend are fucking creeps,” the freckled boy said.

“Shut your cake hole, human freckle!” Dean rounded on the boy.

“Does bad name calling run in the family?” you heard the boy mutter.

“Y/N?” Dean asked again as he turned back to look at you.

You quickly ran through the situation, and Dean listened with his arms crossed over his chest. When one of Steve’s crew tried to throw in their version of the story, he would shut them up real quick. At the end of the story, Dean rounded on the crew and raised a finger to point at them.

“If I ever catch one of you putting your hands on my baby sister again, even looking at her the wrong way, I will put you in an early grave, do you understand that?”

All heads in the party were eager to nod.

“I don’t wanna hear another damn word on this situation, you were all idiots, we clear?”

You all nodded.

“Good, now you six, get out of my face.”

Dismissed, Steve and company began to walk off, save for the quite girl who walked over to you last, who stayed to gather the ripped photos on the ground, shoving them into her back pack hastily when Steve called for her.

“Y/N, you coming home?” Dean asked as he raised a single brow.

“Not right now,” you said, looking back at Jonathan, “I’m gonna hang out with Jon for a bit, if that’s cool with him?”

“Yea,” Jonathan muttered, “Of course.”

“Ok,” Dean nodded, “Call the house when you need to be picked up.”

“I’ll bring her home,” Jonathan muttered.

Dean gave him the once over before he nodded, deciding that he would allow it.

“Safely,” Dean commanded, giving Jon a stern look before he turned and stalked off toward the Impala.