#everyone here is so nice to me I lova you…

[fauvester]

you mentioned julian as cardassias "favorite pet alien" in the garashir kids au, does the cardassian populace eventually like julian? does he have any friends on cardassia after living there for a while?

also, your art so GOOD :))

ah the classic 'as long as you're nonthreatening we'll love you'. and julian can be very likeable! even at his most sanctimonious. I feel like cardassians probably like more heavy-handed paternalistic medical care and he'd be well suited to provide that. imagine if your doctor was a very smart genetically engineered talking hairless cat.

I like to think he makes friends, especially from the medical field :') he's one of garak's protective extroverts. Gets along with all his coworkers. Organizes happy hours. Everyone is a little confused by his desire to spend time with them outside of work, but they like their smooth warm coworker and are willing to indulge his alien eccentricities.

[signedkoko]

Signed with Love - Hazbin Cast

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Characters - Adam | Alastor | Charlie | Cherri | Husk | Lucifer | Lute | Pentious | Vaggie

Series Parts Overlords & SIns - Here! Helluva Cast - Here!

Sup bitch,

Looking for a valentine, cupid told me ur my soulmate, so how about you be mine?

You know I love teasing ya babe, but really, I got a reso for that restaurant you love, I'd tell you what to wear but the less the better.

Lova ya hot stuff

ORIGINAL DICKMASTER

Salutations my lovely doe!

Another opportunity to show my dear just how much I love them, what more could I ask?

I'd offer my cooking, but I know you don't have quite the palette for venison. Instead, I've prepared a private dinner, catered to by a lovely cafe a good friend of mine runs.

I'll be there to get you at half past two,

A.

Hiii ❣

I hope you don't mind me asking but I REALLY wanted to be the one to ask if you'd be my valentine?

I haven't decided what we should do yet, I was thinking rock climbing, or how about a fancy dinner? Ahh I have so many ideas! We can talk about it later!

Thinking of you always,

Charlie (Morningstar, Princess of Hell, Manager of the Hazbin Hotel (now booking!!), potential valentine of you!)

Heya girly,

I'm not one for holidays, but I know you reallllly wanted to try this one out. So! be my valentine?

I'll bring you to that great viewpoint I hang at, maybe show you how I make some of my arsenal. Just dress comfy, it's going to be a lot of moving!

You better be swooning already!

Your favourite 💣

Hey,

I'm thinking this year we could try something new. As stupid as it sounds, will you be my valentine?

I've got a stack of rental movies and one empty ass theatre room. Still sure no one realized we even have one, but what the hell, right? Let me know what you think and we can go pick up some drinks before.

Looking forward to it,

Husker

Hiii ❣

I know you told me not to go crazy this year, but how could I not! So, valentine...

I left a bag with this note, it's got a few outfits for you to pick that will match mine! Just be ready by 6 tonight, we've got a lot of stops. Drinks, dinner, a performance at Ozzie's, and a reserved spot in my bed tonight.

Happy valentines day,

Yours truly

I pray this letter reaches you,

Maybe you don't expect it of me, but you deserve to feel as special as everyone else this valentines.

So, I've got a surprise dinner set up for us this valentines. If you are willing, dress nice for four tomorrow and I can take you for a flight before it. Just don't wear anything that might fall off.

Your angel,

Lt. Lute

Dearest serpentine,

It would be ever so joyous to accompany you this valentines, if that is okay of course!

My egg bois have insisted upon serenading us and treating us to a nice dinner in my war machine. I promise you it is in prim and proper shape for such a day.

Yours sincerely

(Future) Overlord Pentious

Hey hun,

You've talked a lot about valentines recently, and while I know we said we'd overlook it, I feel like you deserve to know how much I love you.

When you get the chance, I've got a bottle of wine and a free night to decide what we want to do. Just swing by after eight?

See ya valentine,

Vaggie

Authors Note - Ahahaha can you tell I don't write Adam much? Either way, part one of the valentines series 🖤 If you don't have a valentine this year, please allow me to be yours! Or let me know which of these folks you'd accept a letter from 🤭

[makotoscoffee]

Drag Race France Season 1 - My thoughts

Hello DRF fans, I've talked about this a little bit but today I'm finally starting what will be an intense rewatch of the show, detailing every tiny thing and analyzing placements, challenges, critiques, social interactions etc. This series will be more Paloma focused, simply because that's what I focus on the most when I watch DRF. So without further ado, let's dive into EPISODE 1🫡

The first episode of a Drag Race season is always an exciting one. You go in not knowing what the season will bring and you're meeting this whole new group of queens. DRF1 only had 10 contestants, but they were the best of the best for sure. Personally, I was very excited to start DRF! I was mainly expecting very good fashion, but other than that I didn't know what a treat I was in for. The queens enter the werkroom as follows:

Kam

La Big Bertha

Elips

Lolita Banana

Soa de Muse

La Grande Dame

Lova LaDiva

La Kahena

La Briochée

Paloma

Personally, I think everyone had really strong entrances. The first impression matters a lot both for the audience and the other queens. Right off the bat, Kam is giving us shady but entertaining confessionals haha. Different little melodies would play for each queen to match their looks, but Paloma was the only one to have that really impactful rock music moment when she walked in which was SO ICONIC😩A fun fact: Paloma's entrance line is identical to Kiara's from season one of Canada's Drag Race. They are the first two queens to use the same line on different franchises! Personal observation: French people love to shout 😭 The first mini-challenge is the current standard for first episodes: a photoshoot (with a twist.) Usually this twist would be something that makes you either look very silly or some sort of obstacle you have to overcome to slay in your photo. Think rain, wind, being upside down etc. However, the twist here is just that they call in hyper cancan dancers lol. It was cute though.

Confessionals like this about Lolita begin already in episode 1.

Time to get out of drag! It's always very fun to see everyone look at each other out of drag in the werkroom for the first time. Right away there aren't really any groups forming yet, however Kam and Paloma are sort of sticking together since they knew each other well. Paloma said on a podcast that she was nervous in the first episode because of all the big personalities and I feel like you can really tell.

We stan the immediate dive into body positivity and mental health, the girls really did not waste any time when it came to being vulnerable (well, except one of them🍌)

THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE FIRST EVER MAXI CHALLENGE OF THE SEASON😩❤️ I love that they did a talent show, I think that it's a great and FAIR way to do it, that way no one has to do something they're not good at in the first episode and everyone gets to show the judges who they are. I think we all agree that this was a phenomenal show!! The fact that JPG was there in the very first episode was LEGENDARYYY! I'm not going to talk all too much about the performances but I'll give my two cents: Lolita: INCREDIBLE she let everyone know to be scared of her. There are queens who dance, and then there are queens who are DANCERS, and she made it VERY CLEAR which one she belongs to. The double ruveals were a very nice element and, I think, crucial to making sure it wasn't just good enough but it was great. Kam: this was honestly avant garde theatre to me. I was cringing but also it was so surreal that I was like WTF. Live singing is already a scary choice. Extremely embarrassing for her that she was followed by.... La Briochée: She was very good! She did well with the singing and everyone were clearly moved. I loved loved loved her outfit too PALOMA: I know I used the expression "my two cents" but she will have my entire wallet. Stand-up is a HUGE risk, and so hard to pull off.

right away the outfit let's you know that she has a character in store for us. Her opening jokes get laughs which is great, and she took a risk by involving Daphné, but it payed off. All the jokes have great set-up and punchlines. She already had LolaShiva in her roster, and I think she was the perfect Gourmandes girl to pick. This already happened on reddit, but Krÿstal would immediately be misinterpreted as Latina by American audiences and therefore a very offensive character, and Anne-Cyprine isn't funny in the stand-up way. But what's even more important is that LolaShiva looks VERY different from when Gourmandes was made. Imagine if she showed up like this

Career SLAUGHTER. Gourmandes is VERY cheeky satire and LolaShiva is by far the boldest character. She wouldn't have time to communicate her in two minutes with just the costumes and jokes, you need to watch the show to really get past what you see and understand that it's supposed to be offensive because it's making fun of white women like LolaShiva. And had she done old-school Lola it would have backfired completely

completely irrelevant but I wanted to point out her making sure the talking stick doesn't fall out of her wig lol. A very smart thing to do was have that gong at the end to make sure she didn't go over the two minutes and also gave a natural end to it all. BRAVO PALOMA👏🏻 La Grande Dame: I thought her number was really cool and unique, again, live music is a huge risk but she slayed! And it was Elips: I think her number really illustrates her personality and journey on the show, shy/quiet and mysterious but with a lot of fire to offer. It had a slow build and I feel like she ultimately didn't stand out just enough because of it. It was memorable but it spent a lot of time getting to being memorable, if that makes sense. Soa de Muse: I mean what can I say. She made it clear right away that live music does NOT scare her. The outfit was tres French and she had a playful edge.... honestly I don't have much more to say because the performance speaks for itself. I do believe she deserved the win. Lova Ladiva: I don't want to talk about this<3 Love her though La Kahena: I don't want to talk about this<3 It's hard to say something because the subtitles were so bad I probably missed a lot of jokes, I felt like it was good but I couldn't figure out why? if that makes sense? Like it had a lot of potential, to me. But like Paloma said in the confessional; it dragged a bit. La Big Bertha: I liked her number a lot and it was actually my favorite performance of any kind she gave on the show. I enjoyed that it wasn't just burlesque but also had that comedy element, it elevated the routine for me. LOL @ Kam's "is she going to take it all off?🫣" confessional.

RUNWAY TIME this was a REALLY strong runway but you can literally say that for every runway this season. I loved La Briochée's look SO MUCH it was stunningly made and really beautiful. No notes tbh Lolita's look was creative but also not my favorite, she could have won with a stronger look LOVA'S RUNWAY was SO GOOD, TO ME. It was my favorite thing she wore at any point in the show (and I know she wasn't there for 70% of it but ykwim) Soa de Muse. That's it. Solidified her top 3 placement right there tbh. I didn't predict her win right away but that's just because everyone* did SO GOOD this episode my head was spinning. La Kahena: loved her look so much but I knew it wasn't going to save her </3 PALOMAAAA this look is LOVELY. I think she stood out from everyone else, I was WAITING for somebody to do that show!!! I do not like the fabric. At all. The print is lovely and the dress is lovely but I do not like the stretchy fabric and how it shines (/doesn't) at all. I was intrigued by the black hair in a way, I actually thought she was a brunette in drag! Like, she entered in a red wig, yes, but that was sculptural and she had a monochrome outfit. And her LolaShiva wig was obviously not a wig that she wears with actual runway looks. So based on the JPG runway I thought she was black-haired! I like that we saw a bit of her gothic side, reeeeeally enjoyed that.

her lil lip-bite moment..............................................Slayed I fear Elips: WOW just wow. It was very modest but the tailoring was just insane and it showed her personality. Kam Hugh: This really was her golden ticket out of the bottom, it was so pretty when we got to see it close up. La Grande Dame: Really lovely and I didn't expect it from her, actually! But looking back she had very little charisma on the runway in the beginning, I'm glad she was able to listen to the judges later on when they told her to have more joie de vivre on stage. When all the queens were on stage together I was amazed by the diversity and quality of the runway!

Time for critiques ahhhh!! Paloma looked like she was going to have a heart attack before they even started😭

Lolita being safe was kind of insane but it was 100% because of the runway. Honestly I don't have much to say about the critiques from the judges because I already agreed with them throughout this. Nicky's moment of bonding with La Kahena was so sweet, I'm glad she was able to let her down gently. SIDENOTE I LOVE THE GIRLS' AND JEAN-PAUL'S DYNAMIC he was such a fun and good guest judge!!! Everyone was really nice to each other in untucked and no one bitched and moaned about their placement, which was v nice :). I don't have much to say about the rest of the episode, even though I was SO upset to see La Kahena go so soon, I couldn't pretend Lova didn't slay that lipsync she took them to chuuuurch🙏🏻🙏🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

Paloma was so nervous during Kam's final critiques and also really nervous for La Kahena, and I can't help but think about how it must have felt to stand there and experience it when she's been a big fan of the show for so long!! She already knew queens on the season but it was very clear that she considered Kam her friend there. Someone she knew she could count on. Seeing her in the bottom the first week must have been so intense for her!

KAM'S REACTION TO LOVA STAYING💀 PLEASE I LOVE HER I feel like when they all went on stage at the end, the dynamic was still a bit shy... like, there were hugs but nothing crazy and it seemed like the girls were still a little bit shy or reserved. That's just what I think though.

Paloma does in fact go to hug Kam right away and you can tell how relieved they both were to have survived.

And that is it for Bonjour, Bonjour, Bonjour! I was immediately in love with the season, the queens really surprised me and the production quality was so nice for a baby franchise!! In the sneak-peak for the next episode they show Paloma's confessional of her saying "Acting challenge, that's mine." and I was... nervous but intrigued. It's always 50/50 when a queen claims they've got a challenge in the bag. But at the same time, she was funny in the stand-up routine and I felt like I knew SO LITTLE about her, so I was very intrigued to see what was going to happen.

If you lasted all the way to the end thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed hearing my thoughts🫶🏻

[deepdisireslonging]

Last of the Season

Sam drags Team Free Will to a farmer’s market. The reader finds a way to keep Dean from complaining the whole day, teasing him until she gets rewarded for it.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: smutty food puns, SMUT, oral (female receiving), another bad vegetable reference, implied further smut

Word Count: 1509

Note: I wrote a fall aesthetic fic earlier and felt like doing another… with a smutty twist. I hope you guys like it. Comments and reblogs super appreciated. Enjoy!

Dean was grumbling before he pulled into the parking lot. Not only had Sam made everyone come out for some fresh air (“We’re all going stir crazy, Dean! Come on.”) but Dean had to drive too. That was partially his fault. “Keep your grubby-organic hands off my steering wheel,” is what you’re pretty sure you heard.

You, on the other hand, were almost as excited as Sam. It was getting to be the best part of the year for autumn produce. Cute pumpkins, cider, blackberries, apples, and the last of the summer delights. As much as you wanted to keep stride with Sam, you hung back with Dean. An idea had been brewing in your mind on the way over. And there was no way in heaven, hell, or purgatory that Dean wasn’t going to enjoy it. Or eventually take it further.

“Why are we here again?” Dean asked for the dozenth time.

“Because you were grumpy and dragging us all down with you.” You linked your arm with his. “Not everything in the world has to be for you, ya know.” With a smile, you bumped your body against his.

The frown dispersed a little. Not by much, but a little.

Up ahead there was another vegetable stand. One of dozens. But the purple plant on the front table caught your eye.

Time to enact your plan.

Pacing ahead, you went straight for it. “How much are the eggplants?” As the woman told you the amount, you weighed the plant in your hand. It had a healthy heft. Nice natural curve. And with the way you eyed Dean, he knew you were up to something. “I’ll take this one. Thank you.”

He caught up within a few steps. “Y/N-“

“Hmm…”

“What are you doing?”

“Making the day interesting.” You stood on your tiptoes so you could whisper in his ear. “I’m pretty sure you’re grumpy because you’re horny. Why not put your patience to the test.” Before he could grab for you, you’d passed him the bag and were headed down the row.

Again you easily outpaced him. Between a stand of squashes and a rare berries-only set-up, you saw a delectable array of fruit. Several caught your eye. One, in particular, would work perfectly with your plan. You’d save it for last. To keep Dean from seeing them, you loaded up his arms with apples.

He held onto them. Confused, his eyes flitted between the fruit and your chest. “Am I supposed to be comparing them to… something?”

“Head out of the gutter, dear. No. I was considering making you a pie, but if you’re not interested-“

Several more apples joined your selection. He paid for them himself. Then he almost dropped the bag as you held two plums in the palm of your hand. They bobbled between your fingers. Something in his throat constricted. The movements he was seeing looked familiar. Like something he was used to feeling lower on his body- Dean shuffled. It was difficult to adjust with two hands full of fruit.

You gave them to the man to add to your sale. A small gasp passed your lips. “Those look good.”

The farmer looked over the booth and smiled. “Ah, yes. Just picked them yesterday. Kind of sad lookin’, this late in the season. But sweet as can be. You can have one if you’d like.”

Eagerly you picked the reddest cherry you could see. You closed your mouth over it, stem and all. How did that trick go again?

Dean nearly dropped the bags. The concentration on your face could only mean one trick. And he personally knew what your mouth could do once you’d set your mind to a goal. He puffed out a strangled breath as you triumphantly pulled out the stem. It had a perfect knot in the center.

“That was good. I’ll take whatever two dollars can get me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He started bagging the cherries, mumbling to himself. “Haven’t seen that in years.”

At the far end of the booth was one basket of bright fuzzy fruit. You brought a peach close to your nose and inhaled its sweet scent. Such a small selection could only mean they were the last of the season. And hard to find in this climate. There were only about a dozen or so left. Mentally you calculated how many you’d need for the team.

“How many of those, ma’am?”

“Just two,” Dean said, coming up behind you.

“But what about Sam-“

“Sam can get his own peaches,” he growled into the spot behind your ear.

Mission accomplished.

“Pay the man so I can take you home.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Luckily Sam and Cas were done just as you’d made it back to the Impala, or they would have been walking home. They had to unpack the load themselves. Dean dragged you out of your seat before the there’d been a chance to beg otherwise.

He pinned you to the inside of his door, fumbling with the lock until it clicked, and then fumbling with your clothes until there wasn’t a stitch on your body.

“Do you know what you do to me, woman?” He nipped at the underside of your jaw, making you gasp. “That was quite the tease today. If I had any idea what you could suggest with a bunch of produce, I might have come along sooner.”

You giggled. “Just be glad they didn’t have pineapple. Then I’d have been too sweet to handle.” With a squeal, you fell on the bed as Dean spun you around.

“Never. You’re never too much for me. Now the other way around-“ Dean pulled you to the end of the bed and kneeled. You could only see the top half of his face over the top f your body. Those green eyes glowed with wild-like hunger. “Let me know if I become too much for you.”

As much as you wanted to poke “unlikely” at him, you were soon too busy fisting the sheets to sass back. You clamped your hand over your mouth. By now, Sam and Cas had to be done with the food. And there was a risk they could hear you. A sharp nip to the inside of your thigh changed your mind.

“Nah-ah, sweetheart. I don’t care if all of Kansas can hear you. You know what to do.” He groaned as you fisted your hand in his hair instead.

The obscene sounds that came from between your legs made you quake. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Dean was ravenous for you every hour of the day. He made good on that lust by devouring your peach like it was the last time he’d ever taste it. Wrecked, you bucked towards his face. Dean let you, only pinning you down when he realized you were getting close.

Whimpers, soft cries, loud shouts of his name, you gave it all. Then he clamped one arm down over your stomach. And he added slow curling fingers to his feasting. Your body dripped for him. He lapped and sucked up every drop loudly.

“So good, Dean. Please… so close-“

“Love tasting you like this sweetheart,” he replied while you writhed. “I might do this all night. Keep going until you can’t stand tomorrow. Then fuck you hard on my cock.”

You moaned loudly. Weakly, you tried to fight against the arm across your body.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Drenching my face until you can’t see straight.” He sucked hard on your clit, almost making you cum right then. “Or would you like cumming on my cock more? How hard do you think you made me, baby, and the market today? Hmm? Cucumbers to eggplants, how much?”

“Dean!” You laughed. Nothing like a vegetable reference to kill the mood. You swatted at the back of his head as he chuckled into your heat. “Don’t do that. I was so close.”

He crawled up your body just long enough to give you a searing kiss. “Sorry, baby. Had to get my revenge for that cherry trick somehow. I think we’re even now.” He sucked your nipples between his teeth before settling back between your legs.

The edge hadn’t disappeared. It had been waiting. Waiting for Dean to add another finger to the working your slit. And for him to work his tongue faster over your clit. Your toes cramped and seized as you called out his name. It sounded hoarse in the air, but that only sent him further into turning your bones to jello. The wave hit. Desperately you clawed at the sheets and his hand and the back of his head. Dean kept going. He kept going until your whimpers had mangled into whispers and your eyes were crossed under your eyelids. The world was fuzzy around the edges.

Dean’s warm body slid alongside yours on the bed. He placed sticky, sloppy kisses over your collarbone. Up your neck. Over your breasts.

“Still with me?”

“Mhmm. Still hungry?”

“For you? Always. Want my cock now?”

“Yes, please.”

*****

Masterlist

Forever Tags: @blondekel77​ @chwehansol98​ @desstehhnee​  @hallemichelles @laochbaineann​ @ramblingsofabourbondrinker​ @savmontreal​ @shieldgirl18 @southsidebucky​ @tinyelfperson​

Supernatural Tags: @emoryhemsworth​ @quixoticcat​ @smandrews3​  @supernatural-jackles​ @tamtamlov​ @vvinch3st3r​

Dean Tags: @19mmallory​ @akshi8278​ @ashmonet​ @bits-n-bowz​  @bringmesomepie56​ @castielsbecky​ @cookie-dough-lova​ @dancingalone21​  @eve05glee  @gabbyrogers094​ @idontknow-canyou​ @its--killing--me​ @juanitadiann​  @justtryingtogosomewhere @kaemarie23​ @kittenofdoomage​  @lauriz67​  @mein1928 @millie67​ @mylostsoul28​  @mysteriouslyme81 @peaceloveandplumbots​  @sassy-losechester​ @sissysalvatore​ @supernatural-jackles-reads​ @theriumking​ @uzum4k1-uch1h4​  @vutdidyousay​ @windeango67​

[emmettss]

( MATTHEW DADDARIO + CISMALE) —  Have you seen EMMETT LOVAS ? This THIRTY year old is a RESTAURATEUR who resides in MANHATTAN. HE has been living in NYC for FOUR YEARS, and is known to be RESOLUTE and CHARISMATIC, but can also be MELANCHOLIC and TACITURN if you cross them.  People tend to associate them with PRESSED CHEF'S COAT, MEN'S WATCHES and ROLLED UP SLEEVES

hello again it me bringing another character because i have no self-control !! here’s my word vomit about emmett and some connections underneath! we don’t have to go with them but they’re just a few suggestions to get the ball rolling :)

emmett stems from a fairly well off family, his father a business mogul and his mother a socialite; he has a a sibling (or two? haven’t decided for certain yet) but he’s not particularly close with any of his relatives

the name of the game is food. emmett’s father found his fortune in owning and financing high end/fine dining/ michelin rated restaurants, vineyards and wineries, etc all around north america to make the big buckaroonies. it’s not so much his expertise in the food industry but his business-savviness that’s made him so successful 

the same savviness was passed on to emmett; always taught to see every thing as a business opportunity, a chance to make money. emmett attended boarding school growing up then ivy league to complete his business degree

moved to new york four years ago because his dad sent him there to manage and open new restaurants, dip their foot into the market and  expand their ‘empire’ so to speak. he’s started with one restaurant only, and it’s been quite successful

though he’s good at running and managing the business side of things, emmett’s real passion is cooking. growing up around the best restaurants watching renowned chefs, he grew to really adore the food and the science of cooking. he attended culinary school in his early twenties, now he wants to hone his craft  but expectations from his family keeps him immensely busy. 

PERSONALITY WISE // emmett has two personalities. basically the one that he puts on for show/business — charming, eloquent, can’t say no to him. Versus him, alone, very quiet because he’s constantly thinking to himself. He can be withdrawn because he’s  had to learn to be very independent at an early age @ boarding school — he doesn’t like depending on others and doesn’t see a huge point in making connections with people when people just seem to want things from him or they simply don’t ‘get’ him. a bit of a pessimist at times; can come off as unfriendly. doesn’t believe in love for himself

WANTED CONNECTIONS

fake as fuck friends ;; i love the idea of emmett being very fake around your muse bc theyre come from privileged families and is maybe somehow connected to the Lovas’ so he has to play nice. bonus points if they legit get to know each other and it becomes real friends OR maybe my muse blows up on yours saying this isnt worth pretending to be so fake cause you suck OR your muse finds out mine is super fake and kinda asshole-y the way he acts

we’re related by restaurants ;; someone who might have an interest in owning restaurants or loves food or cooking or is a chef/waiter/waitress, and knows emmett this way. they can be friends or not or a protege? 

keep my secret ;;  someone who somehow knows emmett’s secret passion, caught him cooking instead of managing one time or something. prob knows his family background and keeps his secret, either out of being nice or for personal gain in the future

exes;; ex friends, ex relationships? ex-almosts? i imagine emmett would be guilty of ghosting a lot of people or being a poor boyfriend

EX GIRLFRIEND: this is the one doozy that really hit him. he really fell for someone and she broke his heart and it really messed him up so he doesn’t try much for relationships anymore. details can be discussed!

true friends ;; everyone needs some of those but they’ll have to have more plotted out reasons to be connected bc emmett doesn’t pick just anybody to be friendly with!!

romantic .. things? would LOVE for emmett to have a flirtation thing or feels towards someone but it’s a very angsty thing. I have more ideas in mind but ill unload them on you if you decide you’re brave enough to let me annoy the shit out of you :D 

[cole-winchester]

Writing Prompt Challenge and GIVEAWAY!!!

So...my blog turned ONE YEAR!!  Woot woot!!  

I've gained a few friends over this past year and thought I'd broaden my reach! 

This is a public writing prompt challenge!  Reblog this as you wish!  You do not have to be a follower of mine (however, it would be nice ...:) )

Onto the rules!

Fandoms: 

Supernatural

The Walking Dead

Sons of Anarchy (Mayans included)

Any characters from the above three fandoms.  Any pairings, reader insert or original characters.  This is a free for all!  All I ask is the obvious... state if it contains triggers, smut or nsfw criteria.

No length limit.  Make it as long or as short as you wish!

Never tried writing before??  Now's your chance!  I want to see what your mind creates!!  This is a no hate blog!  Don't be shy or scared that your writing may not be up to par with others!!  That's nonsense!!  Gimme gimme!!  I want to read everything!

***ALL FICS MUST TAG ME @COLE-WINCHESTER AND HAVE #COLE WINCHESTER WRITING CHALLENGE AS THE FIRST TAG TO BE IN THE RUNNING***

...bet you're wondering about the giveaway, huh?

Depending on the amount of entries...I may have one random winner...or I may have three. 

What's the prize?

Ohhhh....just a custom painting of your choice of character(s) from the three fandoms.  In case you're wondering on my skill level...here's an example:

Ok so... Deadline will be December 1st.  I can be forgiving.  If you need a slight extension, just shoot me a message and let me know.  

***More below Keep Reading***

Prompts are to be bolded in the fic and stated in the author's note.  You may pick up to three, but only one is necessary.  There can be more than one person per prompt.  I'm not strict that way.  Do whichever speaks to you!!

So to reiterate:

Message me with your fandom choice, character(s) and pairings, and your prompt. 

Author's note is to tag me @cole-winchester and have the prompt(s) listed. 

First tag is to be #cole winchester writing challenge  

Deadline of December 1st.

I will have a randomizer of all entries for the winner(s).  Date of selection will be decided later on, depending on any extensions needed.  

Prompts:

I'm a sucker for angst...Sorry.  But this is a hodgepodge list.  There's a few fluffy and random ones in here as well.

Enjoy this and have fun!  I look forward to reading what everyone comes up with!!

1.  “I don’t know how to look you in the eye after the things I’ve done.” 2.  “I can’t trust you alone right now.” 3.  “I hate watching you do this to yourself.” 4.  “I haven’t been okay for a long time.” 5.  “I’m trying really hard not to blame you for this.” 6.  “I want to believe there is still some good in you.” 7.  “My best wasn’t good enough.” 8.  “I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly.” 9.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” 10.  “You know what we’re doing is wrong.” 11.  “I keep seeing his face.” 12.  “I’m so tired of the pain.” 13.  “I’m so done with this life.” 14.  “Life is a curse, not a gift.” 15.  “I’m tired of living.” 16.  ”Did you do this to yourself?” 17.  “I took a gamble. I lost. It’s simple as that.” 18.  “How does it feel….to lose the thing you loved the most?” 19.  “I’m getting really tired of pretending I’m not evil.” 20.   “When this is all over, I want my sanity back.” 21.   “How do you destroy a monster without becoming one?” 22.  “Screw it. Let’s just blow it up and call it a day.” 23.  “What’s our exit strategy?”  -  “Our what?” 24.   “I’ve been in love with you for years. I just never had the guts to say it.” 25.   “Would a bag of explosives help?” 26.  “This tastes like paint thinner and bad decisions.” 27.  “I realized I was in love with you when all of my decisions began to revolve around you.” 28.  “Is that blood?”  -  “…no?” 29.  “What…what exactly is that?” 30.  “Aw man. You’re still alive.” 31.  “Are you sober?”  -  “I’m moderately functional.” 32.  “Sometimes I wish the sun wouldn’t go down…” 33.  “I’m pretty sure this is illegal.” 34.  “Nope. We don’t have time for you to have a crisis today.” 35.  “You aren’t allowed to make omelets at 3am anymore.” 36.  “Oh, darling. You don’t need a weapon when you were born one.” 37.  “Is there something wrong with me…?” 38.  “I thought you forgot about me…” 39.  “I know how it ends...I-...I just forget how it began.” 40.  “Just do it! HIT ME ALREADY!” 41.  “Why are you so eager to die?” 42.  “I promise you, just trust me.” 43.  “I thought you were happy, I’m sorry.” 44.  “Please, just stay a little longer.” 45.  “Am I going to die?” 46.  “When will this end. Please can this end.” 47.  “How many times has he told you he doesn’t love you?” 48.  “You need to find happiness without me.” 49.  “You don’t have to pretend you care when you already have one foot out the door.” 50.  “When she told you to leave, you should have stayed.” 51.  “I’m not good at this. I never have been.” 52.  “You were never one of us.” 53.  “This is what they warned me of.” 54.  “I would’ve died for you.” 55.  “You almost died! And for what?” 56.  “If I leave now, I won’t come back.” 57.  “Everything is temporary, this was merely one of those things.” 58.  “You didn’t care, even a little bit?” 59.  “I’m just tired of this. I’m tired of it all.” 60.  “I’m not going to cry, it isn’t worth crying.” 61.  “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t want pity.” 62.  “And then he left.” 63.  “I wish I could fix this.” 64.  “I deserve more than this.” 65.  “You hurt me and I still trusted you.” 66.  “It should never have come to this.” 67.  “Don’t be sorry, it was no ones fault.” 68.  “I’ve spent all this time wondering and worrying about you. You didn’t think of me once?” 69.  “You’re angry with me, I know.” 70.  “Can we have this conversation when you’re not upset.” 71.  “I don’t think I can forgive you.” 72.  “It’s never been as easy as you think.” 73.  “Why would you put so much hope in me? Things have clearly never worked out for me!” 74.  “Oh, I was just another notch in your bedpost?” 75.  “You put yourself in that position! That wasn’t my doing!” 76.  “How could I be so blind?” 77.  “I can’t even look at you right now.” 78.  “Don’t put this on me!” 79.  “I really think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.” 80.  “This never would’ve happened if we hadn’t have met!” 81.  “Don’t say anything else, just stay.” 82.  “We can start over. I’ll do anything, everything can be perfect. Just please don’t leave me.” 83.  “I wanted to save you. I wanted to be the hero and save you. How did I miss my chance?” 84.  “The only thing I can do is love you!  Why can’t you see that?” 85.  “I thought I didn’t miss you, but then I saw your photo.” 86.  “The thing is, she looks at me and I just-”  -  “Forget your own name?”  -   “Exactly..” 87.  “Do you want to know how she really feels about you? Get her drunk.”  -  “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”  -  “I’ve been her friend for more than ten years. I’m giving you permission. Buy a few bottles of vodka. When she starts swaying and giggling at nothing, ask your questions. She will tell you everything.” 88.  “I can’t believe you remembered.”  -  “Of course I did, I know a lot of things about you. More than I care to admit.” 89.  “Falling in love with you wasn’t apart of my life plan, but I don’t regret that I did.”(@coffee-obsessed-writer) 90.  "You’re numb. You’re tired. You can’t seem to do anything. You want to give up. Well, I’m here to say, please. Just one more push, just one shower, one tiny task, one more day of looking after yourself. It’s hard, but I’ll be here on the other end, I’ll be there when you close your eyes tonight and you picture me, with the biggest smile on my face. One more, for me, for you.” 91.  “I’d kill for a coffee…literally.” 92.  “You’re getting crumbs all over my bed.” 93.  “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.” 94.  “How is my wife more badass than me?” 95.  “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” 96.  “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” 97.  "Tell me you need me.” 98.  "Well this isn’t really how I imagined tonight would go….” 99.  “Focus on me, okay?” 100.  “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

TAGS:  Tagging everyone on my fics - some tags didn’t work, so if you’re not on the list, tumblr is being a twat again, sorry :(  You don’t need to be tagged here to enter!  

@haleyea @prettyepiic @mtngirlforever @funkymadhouse @hanaissupergirl @coffee-obsessed-writer @hismissharley13 @wnygirl2012 @fuckinghargrove @sweetchaosturtle @spnhollis @mannls @samanthawells89 @infinitelycharmed23 @diamondj82 @turdblossommm @samanthab983 @disneymarvelnerd @gailreader28 @moose-and-sqruille-lover @lova-lace @mtngirlforever @erika-gene  @journeyrose  @allaboutmysamcroboys @witchyhoeski

[qqueenofhades]

if the stars did not burn so bright

So I woke up with a shit-ton of feelings about young Garcia at the end of his first war. It was funny for about two seconds, because it was about his inability to talk to women, and then it took a sharp left turn into Pain.

Welp.

The Stradun is still in disarray from the shelling, the Old Town bears the scars – the siege of Dubrovnik ended just over three years ago, but it’s a mess, broken stones and rubble lying in the street, windows boarded up and kids rattling by on bicycles, shouting and waving flags, because most people still don’t have gas for their cars. The cheering is audible across the city, and bursts of fireworks keep breaking out. Every time they do, Garcia flinches. It is November 15, 1995, and the Erdut Agreement was signed three days ago. The war is over, everyone keeps saying. The war is over, and they are free.

Garcia is sitting with a few of his buddies from the HV at a sidewalk café near the Ploče Gate. It is serving everything it has in its kitchen, drinks or food, refuses to let them pay for anything, and total strangers keep stopping to kiss or hug them, whooping and slapping their backs. They’re in their military fatigues, they’re recognizable, and Ivan and Luka are clearly enjoying the attention. Garcia supposes he is, more or less. He wishes he could stop seeing that space between them, the one where Danijel is supposed to sit. It was just three months ago, in August. Operation Storm, the largest land battle fought in Europe since World War II. Four days, the fourth to the eighth. Just four.

(Danijel almost made it. He almost saw tonight. He almost was here. Instead he died in Garcia’s arms with Serb rockets going off overhead, and so, therefore, he isn’t.)

Garcia takes another drink from the glass in front of him. There are several on the table, he doesn’t know which one it is, and he swallows the dark-brown bitter as more fireworks go off close at hand. He jumps, and Luka punches his arm in a friendly way. “Hey now,” he says. “These are the good ones. Remember?”

“Yeah.” Garcia manages a grin. He tries not to think about everything he’s seen in the papers, in the reports of international observers, crackled through on radios. Close to a quarter of the country’s economy ruined, twenty thousand people dead, two hundred thousand more refugees. The massacres of Vukovar, Dalj, Lovas, Erdut, and Škabrnja, the prison camps, the artillery rounds, the crimes against humanity. It is quite easy to cast the Serbs and Yugoslavians, the JNA, as the monstrous antagonists, and one of the names for the war, the “Greater Serbian Aggression,” Velikosrpska agresija, reflects that sentiment very well. The Croatian army, Hrvatska Vojska, are the spirited, under-equipped rebels fighting for freedom against a merciless, overwhelming empire, and Garcia, since he is twenty years old and signed up to fight when he was fifteen, sees no difficulty or complication in this picture. He doesn’t even know why he doesn’t feel happier. It’s not for any lack of belief in the cause. He is happy, he tells himself. He is. He just –

He doesn’t know.

He’s not sure he knows anything right now.

“We’ll take your mind off it,” Ivan says. “Tonight we finally get you laid, Garcia. Huh?”

“I – I suppose?” The others are all reeling drunk, they’ve been catcalling every woman they see, shouting for her to come over and join the heroes of the homeland. Some of them laugh and do so and take a few shots. Others clutch their bags or their coats closer and put their heads down and walk faster, and Garcia half-wishes the guys would stop doing it. Not that he can say so, not that he wants to be the party pooper. He has already felt exquisitely conscious of himself, his place, whether he has any right to be here. The last name, Flynn, is that of his father’s British stepfather. His mother is American, and took refuge in Paris when the fighting intensified. Garcia put down his grandmother’s surname, Kovačić, on his enlistment papers, and used his cousin’s ID, since it says he’s four years older. He was born here, he grew up here, he’s lived here all his life, but sometimes he still feels like an imposter, masquerading in a war that does not really belong to him. Even after almost five years of this, though Croatian is his first language and he still has a heavy accent when he speaks in English, he does not know if he is a worthy enough soldier for the cause.

“What about her?” Milan says, pointing. “You like her, Garcia?”

“She’s gonna like him,” Ivan jokes. “He’s a military hero. The women go for that.”

Garcia starts to say something, then takes another drink instead. He is six-foot-four and weighs maybe a hundred and seventy-five pounds soaking wet; the height was useful in passing as older than he is, though the beanpole part hasn’t been helped by four years of shit army food and backbreaking, sixteen-hour days. He has a thick shock of dark hair and his father’s Slavic nose, broad shoulders and too much limbs for his body, gangly and thin and awkward, big hands and big feet and sometimes feels like a stumbling stork. He can fire three different kinds of rifle, half a dozen handguns, and any idiot can take the pin out of a grenade and throw it. He is, as noted, twenty years old. He has already killed more men than he can easily count, and seen his friends – Danijel is not the only one missing tonight, the only ghost that they raise a drink to honor – die the same. He is not old enough to drink in America.

Milan whistles at another woman, apparently on Garcia’s behalf, and she looks scared and practically runs up the Stradun, out of sight. At that, Garcia feels obliged to take a hand. “Come on,” he says. “I’m sure there will be plenty who actually want to talk to us.”

“But you can’t talk to her,” Milan points out. “We all know that, yeah?”

The others laugh, as Garcia feels his cheeks burn. His difficulties in saying anything whatsoever to the fair sex are well known, since he clams up and can’t be clever to save his life and has nothing remotely recognizable as what the American rappers would call “game.” He’s shy and self-conscious anyway, he has no sense of how to act like he’s not, and as a result, his continued virginal status is a source of amusement in his squad. They all seem to feel that now that the fighting is done, they get to the good part. Ivan’s talking about Mila back in Zagreb, he’s gonna go see if she’s still single (or, perhaps, alive). The others have similar ideas. Settle down, have some new Croatian citizens, forget that all of this ever happened. It seems like it might be easy for them.

Garcia doesn’t think it is, knows that they’re all putting on brave faces tonight, but it makes him wonder anyway, how they can just think they have no more stake in this, nothing left to fight for. Sarajevo is still under siege. Bosnia is likewise oppressed by the Serbs, they’re still fighting, dying, for their own liberty. The struggle isn’t done. There is a reason that “Balkan” is a byword for conflict, that “balkanized” is a verb describing a situation or state of being that is inexorably divided beyond repair. Serbian and Croatian and Bosnian are all essentially the same language, but they all have to be given their own name, their separate recognizance, so one does not suffer the shame of speaking the tongue of the enemy. The red-checked national flag now flies over the Banski dvori in Zagreb, and Ante Gotovina is a monolithic hero beyond any doubt or questioning. They have done this, they have separated themselves from the broken, crumbling corpse of Yugoslavia and communism alike, won the Cold War with the Americans, stepped out into the new day of democracy and freedom. Garcia wishes – he wishes – it felt like it was over.

The owner of the café comes out to see how they are getting on, leaves another round of bottles, and scoffs at Garcia’s insistence that they should at least give him something. “No, no,” he says. “You have given us everything. This is the least I can do. There will be other days to make money. You drink up, boys. You stay as long as you like.”

“You know any nice girl?” Ivan asks. “Who does not bite? We have our friend here, he is very shy. We’re trying to get him laid.”

“I’m sure there are many nice girls.” The owner chuckles, but Garcia detects a certain hesitance in his face, as if he is going to go inside and tell his daughters to go upstairs and lock their doors, just in case. “If you have won a war, how hard can it be?”

Luka and Milan and the two Antons laugh and agree that see, this is what they were saying, and the owner clears off with the empties. It’s November, it’s chilly at night, even if their position here on the Adriatic means that it’s not cold. The stars are huge and bright overhead, since patches of the city are still running on generators or intermittent electricity, and Garcia twists the cap off the nearest bottle. He’s starting to feel on the drunk side of tipsy, a condition none of them have been able to afford for the last several years, since it’s hard to shoot straight if you’re shit-faced. Milan reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, passes them around to the boys, and they all light up. The smoke curls into Garcia’s lungs like a rasping knife, he taps the ashes off the end, and thinks that he should probably find a way to call his mother. Maria Tompkins has been living in the seventh arrondissement, teaching part-time mechanical engineering at the Sorbonne, and she was very upset that he decided to enlist in the first place. You have American citizenship through me, she said. You could come with me, we could go back to the States, or –

At this point, despite his heritage, Garcia has never been to America, and he has been raised in Eastern Europe during the Cold War, a state of affairs that – despite Maria’s moderating influence – does not leave much space for thinking of it fondly. They spoke both Croatian and English at home, he’s effectively bilingual, but he’s always spoken Croatian at school and with his friends, and as noted, still has too much of an accent to think he’d easily fit in in America. Besides, he’s never been there, he knows nothing about it aside from what he sees on TV and the infrequent times Maria decides to talk about it, her old life in Houston and her dead first husband and son. All his friends are here, all his friends were fighting for freedom. Garcia wasn’t about to be the chicken, the scab, running off to a comfortable life in the godless West and leaving his comrades behind to suffer and die. He has spent four years now as Garcia Kovačić, explained the first name away almost apologetically. Even some of the guys at this table, guys he’s won a war with, don’t know otherwise.

He pays half-attention to the ongoing debates about finding him a woman. The others feel as if that’s a good idea too. Luka spots one he likes, who comes over and has some drinks with them, and then gets up with her, as the others wolf-whistle and waggle their eyebrows, to announce that he is in search of more privacy. Is it that easy, Garcia wonders? Is that what it means, being a man, that you can expect to have your way with a woman at any given moment? The one time he was disrespectful about a girl at school, talked about her crudely the way he had heard older men do, his mother almost bit his head off. It goes against his grain to think of doing that now. He doesn’t even know that he wants to.

(He kissed Danijel once, in the darkness of the foxholes. He remembers the taste of soot and nicotine and sweat, and Danijel’s callused hands on his face. He’s not a homo, he likes women. He likes looking at them, he feels something like a fishhook in his stomach when the sun shines on their hair and skirts curl around their knee and blouses mold to the curves of breast and shoulder. He definitely knows he’s not gay. Maybe it’s just that men seem easier.)

“Garcia?” Ivan says, slapping his knee. “Garcia, wake up.”

“I’m sorry.” He blinks, rubbing his hand over his face, discovering that he is not quite sure where one is in relation to the other. “Jesus, I think I’m drunk.”

“Oh no, you’re definitely drunk.” Ivan laughs, slurring more than a little himself. “I don’t want to be able to stand up. The owner, he’ll probably go to the neighbors for more if we ever run out. I don’t want to stand up.”

His eyes are a little manic as he says this, the bright patina of joy cracking to show something else underneath, and Garcia thinks how Ivan was one of the first members of the HV to get to Vukovar and how he has been a little too loud, a little too jocular, ever since. If he does go back to Mila in Zagreb and they get married, Garcia wonders if she’s prepared for that, the possibility that Ivan is going to wake up screaming one night and there is going to be nothing there, nothing tangible, except the heaped bodies of butchered civilians around their bed. More fireworks go off over the harbor, from the direction of Lokrum. They burst overhead in showers of blue and red and white, national colors. It’s like a fever. A naked man runs past them, yelling, “HRVATSKA ZAUVIJEK!” and jumps into the fountain. Nobody seems to care.

Ivan reaches for another bottle, and Garcia decides to do the same, even though he’s sure that any more drink is going to land him passed out on the paving stones. His head is floating, he feels numb and dreamy and delirious, as if this is the closest thing he is going to have that passes for happiness. Milan is saying he wants a joint, and more of the boys have girls on their laps by now. Their hair is bleach-blonde, their roots dark, and their lips are crimson. Garcia fixates on that, like he can’t see anything else. There is screaming in his head that even the alcohol cannot wash out. Anyone who thinks this is done is an idiot.

Garcia opens his eyes with pale sunlight in his face, his cheek stuck to the spilled drink on the tabletop, the residue of cigarette ash foul in his lungs, and a splitting headache. The Stradun looks barely more respectable by morning than it did the night before, though some of the shopkeepers are out with brooms, and the café owner is the one who shook him awake. “Son,” he says. “Wake up, son. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Garcia pushes himself upright with arms that weigh a thousand tons, even though this is a fairly obvious lie. Pigeons are swarming down to peck at the crumbs, people are collecting the bottles and other rubbish, and he’s not the only one who has passed out in some public thoroughfare. “I – thanks. I should – I’m sorry for the mess.”

He fumbles for his wallet, thinking he’ll be lucky if someone hasn’t pinched it, and pulls out a few crumpled kuna, shoving it into the owner’s hand even as he protests and tries to decline. Garcia doesn’t let him, though, and stumbles to his feet, head sloshing violently. He makes it a few hundred meters before he has to stop and be sick in a side alley, and wipes his mouth, breathing hard. He wonders where the others ended up last night, or if anyone was going to come back for him later. He needs to go to the post office and write to his mother.

And yet, as he stands there, Garcia realizes he doesn’t know what to say to her, or if he could honestly promise that he would come join her in Paris and start a new life. Asher Flynn vanished when his son was twelve, Garcia has never known what happened to him, and there are no other family members in the picture. He wants to make his mother happy, he does. But the awareness of the remaining injustice continues to gnaw at him like a mouth of broken teeth, dull and constant. How could he excuse it, going off to France or America or wherever else, knowing that he could still have made a difference?

You know, Garcia thinks. Now that he thinks about it, if he is continuing on, there is some use to be had from his real surname. Kovačić has served its purpose, but it is also instantly and recognizably regional, insular, and it is, after all, a lie. Flynn is curt, crisp, cleaner. Impossible to mispronounce. Could mean he’s from anywhere, and professional anonymity is an asset he could cultivate. Can work harder on his thick accent, can sound less like Boris Borisovich the Vodka Drinking Soviet to American ears. He knows he’s good at what he’s done until now, and he could get better. He used to think about being a history or a geography teacher, his two best subjects in school, but he doesn’t think so anymore. There must be historians here now, dusting off the rubble and assembling it into a narrative, collecting evidence, shaping the story of the new nation. He has seen firsthand how it is made, in blood and struggle, and yet he knows it will end up antiseptic, organized, clean. That is their job, the historians. They make order out of chaos, a story and a meaning out of madness. They are dangerous people. History only happens once, but it has to be remembered. And those who keep that memory are ultimately more powerful than any rocket or bomb in existence.

(Maybe his hands will stop burning when he holds a gun again. Maybe he can stop one more person who is doing terrible things in the world, and this will be worth it. Maybe he will find a point where it feels like enough, and that it’s done, and that he can sleep.)

He doesn’t go to the post office. He crosses the Bosnian border, two weeks later, and heads up north to Mostar, and says that he’s from the HV, and he’d like to help them fight.

He tells them his name is Flynn.

[pinknerdpanda]

The Wedding Singer - Track 1

“You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)”

Characters: Dean, Chuck, Cas, Reader, Jo, Ellen (mentioned), Bobby (mentioned) 

Word Count: 1,466 (including lyrics - italicized below)

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language, Mentions of Infidelity, Alcohol

A/N: This is the first chapter of an AU SPN Series co-written by myself and @hannahindie​ entitled The Wedding Singer and is inspired by the movie. We have been working on this for the last few months and are very excited to share it with you. The series tag list is open. If you would like to be added, please send one of us an ask. Hannah made our beautiful aesthetic and the series was Masterbeta’d by @wheresthekillswitch. 

Track List 

Track 1: “You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)”

All I know is that to me You look like you're lots of fun Open up your lovin' arms Watch out, here I come

Beams of colored lights flickered across the joyful faces of wedding guests as they danced and shimmied to the music blaring from the amplifiers flanking the sides of the small stage. The community center was packed; understandable, considering that half the town’s related to the bride and groom. Most of the guests were happy to have the opportunity to celebrate the union of the happy couple, but there were a few here who only came to hear the band play.

The town of Chapel Hill, TN is not exactly what one would call a tourist destination. As small towns go, it lived up to the stereotype; a close-knit farming community made up largely of families whose family trees predate The Civil War. There’s one thing that the town has come to be known for in the past five years and that would be the green-eyed man wearing acid washed jeans and a bandanna, pouring his heart and his soul into the Sennheiser microphone in the middle of the stage; Dean Winchester.

Dean’s band, The Lost Boys, was not only the only 80’s cover band in a two hour radius, they were the only band at all for at least 50 miles. Every wedding, birthday, holiday and social event; Dean’s band did it all. And while many hours could be spent arguing about religion and property lines, the one thing that all the residents of Chapel Hill agreed on is that The Lost Boys were a phenomenal band.

“Thank you very much!” Sweat dripped from Dean’s brow as the song ended and the crowd roared with applause. Dean smiled. “It looks like we have a toast from the cousin of the groom, Mr. Marty Calhoun.” He stepped back from the microphone, motioning for the man to step forward. Only, Marty was about three whiskey sours past being able to “step forward” and mostly just stumbled instead.

“Brenda. I’m glad you were finally able to tie down this walking STD of a man,” Marty slurred into the mic. The entire room audibly gasped, but Marty remained unaffected. “It’s just so nice seeing you end up with a schmuck like my asshole cousin after dumping me back in high school. You both deserve each other.” Marty grabbed the mic from its stand for the sole purpose of dropping it on the floor and walked away, dodging projectile trash hurtled at him from the disgruntled crowd.

The bride and groom stared uncomfortably at each other, as Dean retrieved the mic from the floor, placed it carefully back on it’s stand and smiled warmly at the couple.

“Hey, listen. Family, am I right? You can’t live with them...you can’t stab them…” A giggle floated through the crowd as Dean continued. “I think what is important here is that, you have each other. No matter what happens; whatever crazy stuff life might throw at you, intoxicated family members included, you will both have each other there - ready to fight with you and for you. That’s what love is. It is valuing someone else’s well being more than your own. See, I’m getting married to my fiance next weekend and I can’t wait until I get to look into her eyes and commit to forever with each other.” As Dean’s impromptu speech settled over the crowd, the bride and groom’s looks at each other softened. That’s what it was all about for Dean. He raised his glass. “To the happy couple. May you live a long and happy life together!” The crowd cheered, before taking a collective sip.

Dean nodded to Chuck, his rhythm guitarist and backup singer, silently passing over the reins temporarily for a much needed break. The music started back up again as Dean stepped off the back of the stage and wiped the sweat from his brow, weaving his way to the back of the room.

“You see the new girl, yet?” Dean’s best friend, Cas, was waiting for him. He nodded subtly in the direction of a stunning woman that Dean had never seen before.

“And hello to you, too, Cas.” Dean glanced at his friend and grinned at the entranced look on his face. “You know, maybe you should go talk to her.” Cas’ face fell.

“She has a ring on, I would, ya know...go talk to her..in a heartbeat.” Cas rolled his eyes and shrugged nonchalantly. “I would hate to make her fiance jealous or something.”

Dean clapped his hand on Cas’ shoulder, sighed and smiled. “Don’t ever change, Cas.”

While the crowd was mesmerized by Chuck’s rendition of “Karma Chameleon,” Dean took the opportunity to sneak out the back door of the community center. He hoped for a few minutes alone in the fresh air and took a seat on the concrete steps.

Admittedly, when he heard the heavy steel door creak open, he sighed, groaning internally. But when he turned around, and was met with a pair of beautiful eyes and an infectious smile, his irritation was magically erased.

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!” Her cheeks turned a deep red color before she turned to leave.

“No no, you’re just fine,” Dean winked at her and patted the step next to him. “There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

She smiled warmly before accepting the invitation, sure to tuck her skirt under her legs to keep from flashing anyone as she sat.

“I needed a bit of fresh air.” Her voice was warm and sweet and Dean was enchanted by the sound of it.

“Well, that makes two of us.” Dean flashed her one of his trademark smiles before reaching a hand out to her. “I’m Dean.”

“I’m y/n.” She said shyly. “You sound fantastic up there.”

“Thank you. I really enjoy my job.” Now it was Dean’s turn to blush. He’d gotten used to hearing compliments like that from townsfolk, but part of him had always assumed they were just being nice or only saying it because they knew him. But to have a stranger, especially a beautiful and obviously intelligent stranger, give such great feedback; that was a different story entirely.

“It shows. How long have you been playing?”

“All my life, really. But the band’s been together for about seven years now? How are you liking life here in Chapel Hill? How long have you been in town?”

“Oh it’s great. I have been here a few weeks now. My cousin Jo got me the job here at the community center last week. This is my first event.” She smiled warmly.

“Oh Jo Harvelle? Of course! Ellen had mentioned her niece was coming to stay for a while. I don’t know how I didn’t put it together before now.”

“How do you know my Aunt Ellen?”

“Well, it’s a small town, sweetheart. Everyone knows everyone around these parts.” Dean lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “But do you want to know a secret?” Y/n nodded slightly. “I’ve been giving Ellen voice lessons so she can surprise Bobby at their 20th wedding anniversary here in a few weeks.”

Y/n’s smile was brighter than the sun itself as it bore down on them in the late afternoon sky. Dean was startled at how badly he already wanted to do anything to make that happen again.

“That’s wonderful! Uncle Bobby will be so happy!” She clapped her hands in excitement before her face fell, a serious look replaced the joy he’d just seen there. “But I promise. Your secret’s safe with me.” She winked and held up her left hand to seal her oath.

“Good. I appreciate that. What a pretty ring. You’re engaged?”  Dean regretted the words as he watched the light fade from her eyes a bit and she dropped her gaze to the large glittering stone on her ring finger.

“Yeah, I guess so.” She shrugged and tried for unaffected but missed the target. “Just waiting on him to set a date.”

“Weddings, man. I’m actually getting married next weekend. I’m ready for the planning phase to be over and just get to the forever part.”

The large metal door swung open and halted y/n's reply. Dean turned to find Jo standing just inside.

“Hey Dean.”

He smiled and nodded slightly.

“Hey, y/n,” Jo said, motioning towards the ballroom, “we need you back inside. And Dean, I think Chuck is about done with his Karma Kameleon.”

Y/n stood carefully, smoothed her hands down the sides of her skirt and smiled. “It’s been nice talking to you, Dean. I’ll see you next weekend. I’m working your wedding. Good luck with your last week of bachelorhood.”

Track 2 “White Wedding” by @hannahindie 

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here  and the lovely @hannahindie‘s can be found here. Thanks for reading! :)

The Wedding Singer - Series Tags: @nanie5 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tiffanycaruso @faegal04 @bethbabybaby @aesthsuggestion @escabell @lavieenlex @letmusicguideu @charliebradbury1104 @ericaprice2008 @kathaswings @feelmyroarrrr @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son

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[shadsmeister]

So What? (Patrick Sullivan One-Shot)

Author’s Note: This is just a lil summin-summin for my girl @whothehellisjay, who wants me to write her something, but doesn’t know what. So have this ;)

Synopsis: Jamie and Patrick have been dating for a while, and he tries to calm some of her insecurities.

Warnings: None, fluff, light language

Song: Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You - Frankie Valli and The 4 Seasons

Taglist: @whothehellisjay, @greasernegan

Jamie found herself with a drink in her hand and a smile on her face as she watched Patrick chat among his friends. She wasn’t a big drinker, but she couldn’t deny that his favorite bar and its regulars were more like family now. 

She took a sip of the liquid in the glass just as Patrick looked over at her, cheeks cratering deeply as he gave her a broad smile. 

“Hey doll, ain’t that mine?”

That Brooklyn drawl never ceased to make Jamie giddy and she grinned right back over at him, hair swaying as her shoulders lifted in a shrug. 

“Who’s asking?” When he gestured for her to come over, she complied, sliding off the bar stool and offering him the glass as she nestled into his side. His arm came around her shoulders instantly and he leaned down to press his lips to her temple, pulling away to flip Larry and the boys off as they chided him.

“Since when do you like Jack, huh?” He pulled Jamie over to the side after resting his pool cue against the wall, taking advantage of the extra time given to him since it was Larry’s turn. “That’s mighty fine of you; you know what watchin’ ya drink does to me.”

Patrick kept his voice low as he looked down her, grin widening as he watched the blush creep up into her full cheeks. Her hands came up to push at him but he darted away in time, laughing softly as she scowled at him.

“You know I don’t drink a lot.” She replied, pulling her hands away to fix any hair that had fallen out of place. Despite knowing everyone present, she couldn’t help the anxiety knotting up her stomach. She was sure they’d seen Patrick with many woman, and they all had to be prettier than her, right?

Jamie took a moment to assess herself, unaware of her boyfriend doing the same. His eyes softened as he took in her full face, the bow curve of her lips, the long, dark hair that framed her features. The blush still colored her cheeks and he suppressed a small smile. After, his gaze traveled over her body, and his breath caught in his throat. Her outfit was simple, but fit her personality perfectly; she always wanted to look nice for him, but she never got it through her hard head that he thought she was perfect in sweatpants and a tank top. She was adorably chunky and full in the right places, curves accentuating every movement she made. Instead of angles, she was Jamie was made of gently sloping hills; Patrick loved how soft she was.

“Hey, take a fuckin’ picture and get over here, it’s your turn, lova-boy!” Larry’s voice filled Patrick’s ears as a quick swipe to the back of the head pulled him from his thoughts.  He chanced another glance at Jamie before setting his glass down in her outstretched hand, turning back to the pool table.

“Alright, alright! I’ll kick your ass next time you touch me, ya bald bastard!” The firefighter exclaimed, earning a chorus of laughter from the coworkers around them. 

Jamie heard them, but wasn’t listening; instead, she was hiding her grin behind the glass in her hand. The blush had gotten deeper when she realized how Patrick was staring at her. He never failed to make her feel beautiful, and always seemed to know when she needed it most. Finally, she relaxed back against the wall, using the privacy she was granted to stare right back at him.

She just couldn’t understand it. He was tall, strong, and handsome; those dimples could stop any woman on the street dead in her tracks. Past that, he was a hard worker and a big family man, and always made time for his loved ones. Patrick was also the nicest, most down to earth man she had ever met. He went out of his way for people, even strangers. There was no way she deserved him–

Patrick turned to look at her as soon as his turn was over, one hand resting on the wood of the pool table as he leaned against it. When he smiled at her, all doubt left Jamie’s mind and she returned the look, walking over and stopping in front of him.

She set the glass down by his hand before slipping her arms around him, her chin coming to rest against his chest. His free hand moved to splay against her back then and he rumbled contently, thumb brushing along her spine. His fingers had gazed along a fold of her skin and Jamie began to pull away, the smile on her face faltering.

In response, Patrick held her firmly in place, brows knitting together for a moment as he searched her face. After a second, he gave a soft sigh, sliding his hand to her side and giving it a gentle squeeze. He looked back at the table and, after seeing he still had time, leaned down, lips ghosting over hers.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere. How many times do I gotta tell ya? I’m a firefighter, a little extra weight jus’ gives me somethin’ to hold onto later.” He winked down at the shorter woman then, pecking her lips through her giggles.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, baby.” Her giggled erupted into laughter, muffled by his chest as she held her close. Finally he allowed her to pull away, handing her his drink after taking a gulp.

“Let me finish this game, sweets, then we’ll head out.” As she turned away, Patrick’s hand shot out to give her ass a firm smack, laughing as everyone around them whooped.

Jamie had shot him a look, but it didn’t last long. She was content to watch him play for now, sharing in his joy as he played. He would definitely be the death of her, but he’d be her husband first. 

She was sure of it.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

So Sorry I Was Stuck in Traffic: Your March Horoscope Is Here!

http://fashion-trendin.com/so-sorry-i-was-stuck-in-traffic-your-march-horoscope-is-here/

So Sorry I Was Stuck in Traffic: Your March Horoscope Is Here!

Illustration by Cynthia Merhej. 

My favorite meme-theme in the whole wide world is the one that taps into the old “I’m on my way!” lie when you haven’t even left yet and are definitely going to be late.

Speaking of late, horoscopes on the 9th of the month, eh?

Look, Mercury’s gonna retrograde on March 22nd, so I’m going to go ahead and blame my tardiness on that planet. Susan Miller basically told me to do as much (Astrology Zone plug!!!) and you know that I do what she tells me to. But just in case you’ve found yourself frozen, unable to move without the star’s guidance, how about I make it up to you — right now: you, me, a little astrology? There’s that toothy grin!

Let’s get this party started! Oh and because I literally fall asleep while typing about Mercury being backwards-ass, allow me to throw out a blanket statement here: do all your electronics shopping and ticket-purchasing now. Otherwise, you’ll be fine.

Aries

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAGICAL (F)ARIES! I hope a thousand sprinkles and sugar balls tumbled out of your cake the moment you cut it, like they do from those viral Flour Shop ones, and I hope you caught it in time for social media documentation.

A recap of the last nine days: Thanks to the full moon, you probably finished a major project that resulted in great success. An annoying health-related matter likely came to a happy end. You may have received some cash. (God bless the grandparents who still include “walking around money” in birthday cards.) You also may have been invited to a party!

What to expect for the rest of the month: the need for a nap — and after March 17th, you’ll be able to get some rest; a serious career growth spurt is set to last until May 15th (“the coming weeks will be the most important of 2018 for career growth and progress,” per Susan, so make sure you act fast on the open positions you want); and finally, a hot-n-heavy (sorry) love life. Did “hot-n-heavy” make you think of Hot Pockets? Just wondering, also just wondering if you’ve had one lately and if they were under/overrated? They seem like a fast snack so why not, honestly.

Taurus

Welcome to March or should I say, “Mooarch,” in Taurus-talk. Mooarch is going to be our favorite time of 2018, fellow bull-human-jelly-beans.

A recap of the last nine days: We had “wonderful developments to our emotional lives” thanks to the new moon (good lord, thank you), a romantic March 3rd and 4th weekend — kindly tell me all about it down in the equally romantic comments section, and one or more of you may have proposed to someone. I did not because I am trying to play it cool!!!

What to expect for the rest of the month: a moment of, “Oh shit, I’m spending money like I’m drunk at a bar and in a good mood, as in ‘SHOTS ON ME, PARTY FREAKS,’ only my bank account just told me I’m grounded”; a financial chill-out in response, probably around the 17th; a chance to travel (take it if you can); new romance around the 28th (if you’re not single, maybe just a lot of “REKINDLING THE FIRE” wink-wink-have-fun-be-safe); and on March 30th, thanks to Venus, an absolutely prime opportunity if not excuse to get our hair done and do a little or a lotta shopping.

Gemini

Hi Geminini in a Bottle, Baby! I’m on a plane and the person next to me is snoring. Thought you’d like to know that detail about me.

A recap of the last nine days: You had a “joyous family event” at the start of the month (family barbecue or an aunt’s 90th birthday as celebrated on a cruise, perhaps?); you may have moved; you’ve hopefully been very happy.

Susan keeps saying that everyone is happy this month which makes me happy and I hope it’s true because if there’s one movie character in the history of the WORLD who’s me, it’s that woman who doesn’t even go here in Mean Girls with the rainbow cake and…whoa. IDK if you read Aries’ intro but I just had a life-changing realization and think that Flour Shop cake might be the manifestation of the cake that Mean Girls girl wanted to bake.

You’re lucky I’m able to keep doing horoscopes after that kind of revelation but I AM!!! Snoring seatmate on a plane, remember? He’s both distracting and motivating.

What to expect for the rest of the month: the best time in 2018 for career progress; a serious relationship commitment and a finally-completed major project.

Cancer

I didn’t have one crab cake in Paris, I hope you’ll know.

A recap of the past nin days: You may have taken (or be planning) a short trip. If you’re planning a big one, however, wait until after March 17th. That’s it with the back-at-it stuff. Let’s look forward.

What to expect for the rest of this month: you’ll be “hungry for new experience and information,” so bring a toothbrush wherever you go just in case you’re chewing more than usual; romance — especially if you do plan that little bit of travel; a really exciting “media project” (sometimes Susan is vague and it’s nice to let it happen); a little home construction situation; your health or an ex driving you up a damn wall; a resolution to the last thing I just wrote that results in a “strong, nearly unbreakable union”; and who knows, you might just get back into waffles. Remember waffles???????

Leo

Susan wants you to pay attention to your finances, to which I say, “BOR-ING.” You might say “MEOW-RING” since you’re related to a cat, but if there’s one thing I was reminded of in Paris, it’s that everyone prefers you to just speak English if you’re going to accidentally give the wrong address three times in a row because you confuse the “teens” with the “twenties.”

Here’s what to expect for the rest of the month: Susan is “especially enthusiastic about your prospects to get a great deal on a mortgage or refinanced mortgage; talks of shared expenses between lovas; an opportunity to turn your creativity into a profit; a bump forward in your career reputation; romance as in romuntz-untz-untz, and romance of the TRUE LOVE variety. At the end of the month you’ll need a little nap, but you also might go to a rock concert. Susan said. I just sat here and binge-ate Meow Mix.

Virgo

The beginning of the month has been busy for you! That must be because your star sign, Virgo, collaborated with Virgil Abloh of Off-White which means you’re a celebrity now. Don’t you worry about me, I’m not really keeping track of what I’m saying.

A recap of the last nine days: you may have seen “the fullness of a desire that is deeply important to you reach fruition” (ooooo-ie!); you may have proposed; your home life may have, out of seemingly nowhere, FINALLY started to feel “lighter, easier, and more enjoyable”; and you may have started to really focus in on a project that means a lot to you.

Here’s what to expect for the rest of the month: a permanent-good mood because of Mars in Capricorn from the 17th through May 15th; an itch to redecorate your home; a positive outlook on love; a readiness to find “the one,” have a baby child, or build a business; and, on the 28th, a big fat wad of money!!!

Libra

Hey Libra, so Susan seems to think you have feathers? Do you? That’s so cool, but she seems to also think they’re dragging. Are you hibernating? That’s okay!!! We all need to take a time out on occasion, stick our beaks under our wing-pits and fluffle for a bit until we feel cozy enough to come out on someone’s outstretched index finger again.

I used to have birds growing up! Rainbow and Webster, double-RIP.

Anyway, doesn’t mean you’re totally antisocial. If you get invited to a getaway situation before the 17th, you should definitely go.

Here’s what to expect for the rest of the month: March 17th through May 15th is the best time to sell your apartment if you’re thinking about doing that kind of thing; you’ll be supremely creative around the new moon of the 17th; go to the gym and the dentist at the end of the month; Libra will put “a big accent on your dreams and desires” toward the end of the month — you might feel overwhelmed in other areas, so breathe here, because these are exciting things, and see if you can’t get help; you may start taking piano lessons. Susan didn’t say anything about them but I thought it seemed like a nice note to end on.

Scorpio

Hey Stinger Pants! Better than Stinker Pants, am I right?

“When you eventually look back on 2018,” Susan writes, “you will view March as a magical month, one of your most romantic months of the year.”

A recap of the last nine days: You started with an enchanting full moon on the 1st; everything supposedly went your way thanks to the lineup of the planets; the full moon shone in your eleventh house of hopes and wishes; life was all around flowery and romantic. (Yes? No? This sounds lovely so I’m rooting for this truth.)

Here’s what to expect for the rest of the month: Susan really wants you to travel, if you can getaway; Neptune, the Sun and the new moon are going to work together to “set the stage for love”; if you want to have baby chickens of your own, now might be the time; your career will shoot forward like the star that it is and you are; there’s a “blue moon” at the end of the month that might make things a little tiring, but per Suz’s verbatim advice: “Certainly this is a month given over mainly to love and fun, so for once, let work take a back seat so you can enjoy those precious moments to the fullest.”

Sagittarius

Oh Sagittarius, I brought a celestial apple with me, your favorite!

Did you read that in a sing-song voice? Do you think it’s weird how much I like your sign because I like horses so much? At first I was mad about Sagittari-ii because you guys get all the good astrologically-related logos and calendars and doodles, but then I realized, “If you can’t be them, join them,” so here I am offering you sugar cubes out of my palm and wondering if I can play with your horsetail.

A recap of the last nine days: Your career is more up than the Pixar movie (hey-o!) and everyone knows your name; you’ll make a lot of money; the man next to me is blowing into his nose so hard I’m scared for his brain.

Here’s what to expect for the rest of the month: Susan wants you to “toot your own horn” and celebrate your accolades, because it will lead to more of them — you’ve got a competitive edge right now; you’ll focus on redecorating and nesting; you’ll negotiate a beneficial contract (nice ’n’ vague); you’ll start getting into party mode even though you’re a little sleepy (take naps, please); you’ll need to be a brainstorming partner to a friend; and finally, on March 28th, you’ll “enjoy lighthearted mirth,” a sentence I am so glad Susan Miller wrote because we could all stand to work mirth back into our vocabulary!!!

Capricorn

I’m not saying you don’t, but if you had Capricorn horns IRL, would you pierce them, or would you let them be their own accessory?

A recap of the last nine days: the full moon of March 1st was “tailor-made for you” and made you smile a ton, apparently; your ninth house of long-distance travel sparkled; you may have gotten into grad school or something in that vein.

Here’s what to expect for the rest of the month: Hopefully better food than the weird airplane chicken teriyaki I just ate; a “big competitive advantage over the other zodiac signs,” thanks to Mars in Capricorn from March 17th through May 15th for the first time in two years (from Susan: “Use this time to launch an initiative that requires you have a lucky edge, such as a big interview…”); a lit-up career toward the end of the month and the culmination of a stressful, all-consuming project; a costume party that Susan didn’t really suggest I write about so much as she didn’t not tell me to mention it, so anyway, I think you should throw a costume party because why the hell not. I’ll brainstorm costumes with you down below if you want.

Aquarius

AQUARIUS I wonder if your name is to blame: I have had that “Barbie Girl” song stuck in my head for four days and I want it gone! I keep wanting to talk to you and Pisces about The Shape of Water and this so-called “fish sex.” I haven’t watched it yet which bums me out because I feel like it’s ripe fodder for these horoscopes, although this month’s batch has been a bit of a dead fish when it comes to the blatant innuendos. Oh well. There’s always next month to talk about Uranus and golden showers unnecessarily!

Anyway, here’s what to expect for the rest of the month: Ask for a raise on the new moon of March 17th — “it looks like you will get it,” writes Suz; you’ll begin opening talks for an exciting career move; your social life will be like PARTYPARTYPARTYDINNERHANGFRIENDPARTY, and you’ll be into it; after March 17th, you’ll be given the opportunity to go off the grid for a bit, which might be nice after that sentence I just wrote; use the end of the month to reflect, avoid travel if you can (Mercury in retro-lame) and reconnect with old flames — romantic or platonic. And hang out with your Barbie World friends!

Pisces

Hello you golden fish! I literally just said this to Aquarius but my hands feel like hooves today (I am a Taurus, after all) so don’t mind the copy/paste and pretend instead that I put both of you on a group text:

I keep wanting to talk to you and [Aquarius] about The Shape of Water and this so-called “fish sex.” I haven’t watched it yet which bums me out because I feel like it’s ripe fodder for these horoscopes, all though this month’s batch has been a bit of a dead fish when it comes to the blatant innuendos. Oh well. There’s always next month to talk about Uranus and golden showers unnecessarily!

Work smarter, not harder, am I right, bubble breath?

That was a compliment!!! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever come up with. I can’t wait to use it as a term of endearment again.

A recap of the last nine days: You may have gotten married, or you proposed, or you DTR’d — Venus is in Pisces so there was and is a lotta love and romance happening; you were very inspired, or at least the buds of inspiration began to bloom; you might have started to find someone to partner with professionally, too.

What to expect for the rest of the month: Start sending out your resume and making the most of ye old network; expect great news on the 11th (about something!); prepare for a cool opportunity in ~*media*~ on March 13th; you’ll have the best day ever on March 17th thanks to gift-giving, luck-distributing Jupiter getting the new moon all excited, which will result in a special new moon that you can use in any way you choose. “The actions you take immediately after that new moon appears will have far-reaching, positive ramifications,” Susan Thriller said. That sounds so exciting! I hope you’ll send me an old-school newsletter that I can tape to my fridge because if there’s anything I love more than good Suz and good news, it’s mall photos of my friends in turtlenecks!

[pinknerdpanda]

Heaven Sent - Part 2

Word Count: 1,607

Characters: Y/n, Castiel, Dean, Sam (Mentioned)

Warnings: Snark, Heaven-Induced Insanity, Language, Angst if you squint

A/N: This is Part 2 of a mini-series I wrote for @ellen-reincarnated1967’s “Andi’s Back in the Game” challenge. Beta’d by @hannahindie and @wheresthekillswitch who also helped me to brainstorm and nail down exactly where I wanted to go. Thank you both so very much!

A/N 2: This takes place roughly midway through Season 4

Tags are at the bottom - please send me an ASK if you would like to be added (or removed).

Need to Catch up? - Series Masterlist

Heaven Sent Part 2

Dean

“What can I getcha, handsome?” the cute, red-headed bartender winks as she calls from across the wooden bar where I’ve just planted my ass for the the foreseeable future.

“Whiskey. Double,” I mumble just over the hum of noise filling the small bar. “And a beer,” I amend my order. “Please.”

“Coming right up!” She grins as she turns and stretches an arm to grab the bottle on the highest shelf. Try as I might, I can’t seem to ignore the golden patch of exposed flesh now peeking at me from above the waistband of her jeans as she strains for the liquor. Just as I’m beginning to make out the bottom half of what looks to be a small, simple flower tattoo, she cheers triumphantly and turns back around, bottle in hand to pour my drink.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I smile at her and take a swig before glancing back up to lay on the charm, but she’s gone. Figures.

I swallow the rest of my whiskey before palming my beer and heading toward one of the pool tables. Maybe I can at least scrounge up a little cash before we hit the road again. Just as I pass the end of the bar, a man with scraggly, gray hair and who looks like he’s started to take root here slumps backward on his stool in front of me. Before I can react, he lurches forward again. Confused, I look back toward the bar to find a pretty woman, at least 30 years younger than him, perched on the seat next to him. One hand clutching his shoulder, holding him in place and the other wrapped around a tumbler of golden liquid. She freezes, glass in midair, her lips forming a perfect, pretty ‘o’ as our eyes lock.

“Nice catch,” I mumble, shaking my head. I throw one last glance back at the woman before continuing toward the back of the bar. Seeing that she hasn’t moved a fraction of an inch makes me chuckle.

The next few hours are a bit hazy as the beer bottles pile up on the table next to me. This town is too easy; it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. Sometimes I almost feel guilty for taking these poor bastards’ money - almost.

“I call next,” a voice that sounds like velvet and a lifetime of bad decisions carries over the conversations around me. I turn around to find the girl from earlier standing a few feet from me. She’s stroking the tip of the pool cue lightly and her eyes rake me over a time or two. Son of a bitch.

“Table’s all yours. I was just about to head back to my hotel,” I raise an eyebrow and grin at her. “Unless you’d like to join me. I’m sure we could think of some games we could play.”

“So it’s fine for you to cheat those men out of their money, but mine’s no good?” Her eyes are like fire and I am having a hard time interpreting the rage in them.

“No, sweetheart. It’s not that, it’s just…” I study her for a moment. “Do I know you?”

“My name’s y/n, not sweetheart. If you’re just afraid to have your ass handed to you by a girl, well, I mean...I wouldn’t blame you,” she plants her free hand on her hip, her fingers ball into a tight fist, but her eyes have lightened slightly.

“Ok fine, have it your way, y/n,” I quickly reset the table and gestured toward it with a stupid little bow. What the hell is my problem? “Ladies first.”

I don’t miss the eyeroll she gives me, but she says nothing as she steps up and lines up her first shot. It all happens so fast, one minute I’m appreciating the curve of her shoulders and back as she bends over the table and the next I’m watching helplessly as she darts around the table, sinking shot after shot.

“Eight ball, left side pocket,” she winks at me. She can’t...she can’t wink at me! That’s my thing.

The sound of the ball landing in the soft, velvety lining of the left side pocket is drowned out by her loud cheering. I have never been so pissed off and so turned on at the same time. It’s all very confusing. I start to pull the wad of cash I’d accumulated from my evening’s efforts and she laughs.

“How about you show me your hotel room and we can call it even, hotrod?”

I throw a $50 bill down beside the mountain of empty bottles and practically sprint toward y/n’s swaying and rapidly retreating hips.

In my excitement, I hadn’t really considered the possibility that Sam may still be holed up in the hotel room, trying to figure out a way to keep Lilith from breaking the last of the 66 seals. I hold my breath as the door creaks open, but there’s no sign of my enormous little brother.

“Mind if I use your restroom?” She smiles warmly as she enters the room. I nod dumbly but she’s already moving in that direction.

As soon as the door closes behind her I start pacing, trying to give myself a little “You got this, man. It’s ok that she killed you at pool,” pep talk.

“Hello, Dean.”

I practically jump out of my skin and whirl to find no-one’s favorite trenchcoated angel standing awkwardly behind the door of the hotel room. “What the hell, Cas? How long have you been standing there?”

“Since you were trying to convince yourself that your masculinity is not defined by your inability to win a game of billiards against a woman,” he squints at me and I can see him fighting to keep the smile from his mouth. Asshat.

“Are you just here to cockblock me, or do you actually have a purpose?”

“Where is your brother? I was hoping that I could speak to you both at…” the sound of the bathroom door interrupts him and he glances over my shoulder. The look on his face is one I’m not sure I understand. It’s like he’s relieved, confused and terrified all at the same time. “Y/n?”

I glance between the two of them. The rage I’d seen in her eyes earlier is back, but stronger somehow.

“Of course. Of course it’s you, Castiel,” she crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head so far to one side it looks like her neck could break. “I should have known you were behind this.”

“I thought you were dead, y/n,” Cas’ voice is barely above a whisper. “They said that your cell was…” his words trail off.

“Oh, is that what they think?!” She laughs and the sound is...I can only describe it as maniacal. “I wondered why no one came to look for me.”

“Will one of you two please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Shut up, Dean,” she barks as she brushes past me roughly to stand toe-to-toe with Cas. “So this is what all that chatter was about. What did you do, rally the troops and spring ol’ Hound Chow over here,” she throws a thumb over her shoulder in my direction. “From the bounds of Hell?”

Cas stares at her silently as her words sink in.

“Wait are you an ang…”

“Shut up, Dean,” neither of them look at me as they say it unison.

“Why are you here,” Cas studies her, disbelief still marring his face.

She cranes her neck to look into his eyes. “Funny story, I was just enjoying a drink, contemplating my life choices and trying to keep Jasper from falling off his stool and getting hurt again...you know me, old habits die hard. Occupational hazards and all...anyway...when who to my wondering eyes did appear? This asshole in all his leather and flannel glory. I was sure I was dreaming or dead or something, but I’d followed him around for long enough, it was easy to figure out it was the real Dean Winchester. The only question was how?”

“I had my orders, y/n.”

“Right. Of course. Your orders,” she nods. “That’s why you didn’t come to visit.” It’s not a question. Her voice is low and colder than ice. Cas looks away.

“You know I went insane in there, right? Did they tell you that? And this asshole,” she jerks a thumb at me again, “is the reason I was there in the first place. And now he gets to wander the Earth and live life hustling pool and screwing barflies, but I was left to rot in that cell for who knows how long. Tell me again who’s getting their fair share of punishment, Castiel.”

“I am sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” She chuckles. “I doubt that.”

From the corner of my eye I can see her right hand jerk a second before a long, pointed silver blade slides into her palm. Without thinking, I rush toward them, but Cas has already stripped her of her blade and spun, pinning her to the wall. I grab the blade from the floor, gripping it tightly in one hand and appreciating the balance and weight.

“Everyone just calm down, and I swear to Whoever’s calling plays up there, if you tell me to shut up one more time, I will stab you,” I flick the end of it between them. Cas nods and releases y/n, but doesn’t step back. “Now, y/n. Who the hell are you and why do you keep calling me an asshole?”

Read Part 3 HERE

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