#gonna start tagging series and fic titles as the search function sucks so idk if i've posted this excerpt before
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aintgonnatakethis · 16 days ago
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Violence! 2, 3, 9, 23! 🗡🗡
Em, hi! 👋 Thanks for the ask! @eddiestattoos
3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr
Any of y'all remember the horrific mess that was the ending of Our Flag Means Death season 2? 'Izzy was better off dead because with only one leg his life wasn't worth living'. The sheer audacious level of ableism really knocked me flat! 😐
9. worst part of canon
So SGU season 2 episode 12 Twin Destinies… Overriding the safety protocols in order to dial within a star is possibly the STUPIDEST plan anyone in Stargate has ever had (and there have been some real doozies!) Destiny functions as a battery, which means she cannot deal with power input and output simultaneously. By forcing the issue, they are trying to use her as a capacitor, which she is simply not built for. It was always going to end in tears! Example: turn on your electric toothbrush, place it on its charging station. It will automatically turn itself off because it's a battery and trying to be a capacitor would result in its innards shorting out. Poor Destiny!
23. ship you've unwillingly come around to
I never really thought about Sheppard/Woolsey before seeing someone I follow recommend this fic. Went into it expecting to get bored or squicked pretty quickly, but boy howdy! 😳
2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom
Hmm this is a tough one, as the different versions of the characters I have swimming around in my skull are quite varied… Let's pick Rush, as many versions of him retain the desire to not bottom across quite a few of my series (kink-turned-not-kink and Vamp AU). This is because when he was a teenager, his drink was spiked and he was sexually assaulted. I think it's impossible to say he'd never bottom again, but he would have to trust the other person to an extreme degree.
I actually have the start of a fic written for the kink series quite far along in his relationship with Telford where he asks for it. My goal for it is to be full service top Telford (who prefers bottoming but will also jump on the chance to Provide™) Have a snippet!
"What?" Telford teases. "You're worried I'll say no?" Rush's laughter is quiet and full of anxiety. "No. I don't foresee any possibilities of circumstance where you say no." Telford's getting bored, resisting the urge to shift on the bed. "So why the hell are your panties in a bunch?" Rush stares at him, a really deep searching look that Telford immediately feels uncomfortable at being the focus of. "I've thought about it at great length," Rush finally says, barely able to force the words out. "And I've decided that it might be an enjoyable exercise for you to fuck me." What a romantic way to put it, Telford thinks, regarding Rush neutrally. "Is this a trick question?" Rush doesn't seem to process the words for several seconds, before his jaw tightens and he delivers a clipped, "...What." "Trick question. Where no matter what answer I give you're going to get pissed off. Everett's told me all about them."
choose violence ask game
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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago
Audio
Playlist Feels
Member: *at the point of writing this i haven’t yet decided but i went out today and this song started playing and my heart just starting beATInG SO faST
*update: ended up settling for san
A/N: I won’t write smut/anything aggressive for jongho (or any ‘00 liner for that matter) so until they turn 21 internationally, i’ll refrain from writing anything nasty. this goes for other idols who are ‘00 liners and younger.
Genre: shitty-ass angst, aggressive shoving lol idk, what’s a desire-inspired fic if there’s no smut heh (lowkey fifty shades vibes irdk what im doing at this point of time) *kind reminder that it’s been too fucking long since i’ve written some smexy smut so please bear with me ;_;
Word Count: 3.6k
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you could almost smell the money that everybody in the room collectively have under their belts. everybody was fitted in suits and extravagant gowns and blazers and dresses-- it was difficult to believe that these people would ever wear anything else besides whatever they were wearing now.
your parents had gone off to greet the older, more important people of the organisation, or bureau, or whatever group that coordinated this event was called. you were stuck staring at your glass of champagne while your fiance picks at the little nuts in the tray that was sitting in the middle of the small table. 
fiance, more like annoying family friend you’ve been actual friends with for nearly ten years. 
“do me a favour and cut it out, would you?” you glare at him through your long, false lashes, bringing the champagne glass to your lips and taking a sip. mingi looks at you and pouts, quickly throwing a nut into his mouth before he wipes the crumbs away on his shit-expensive Saint Laurent blazer. 
you groan under your breath, rolling your eyes so hard that you could see the insides of your head. 
“who picked out the gown? i know you have a thing against gowns so why’d you let them fit you in this one?” mingi munches on the nut and nods towards your fit. you don’t bother to look down at yourself, because you couldn’t stand the sight of it. 
the v-neck cutting was so low down your chest that if you pulled it aside with any considerable amount of strength, your chest would’ve been exposed. 
it didn’t help that the gown was red, and on top of that, there was a long, ridiculous slit up the dress by your left leg. 
it’s like you were a walking target. 
“does it look like i had much of a choice?” you eye him with an annoyed look, finishing whatever was left of the champagne. “in fact, i don’t even remember the last time i made a decision for myself. fun.”
mingi gives you a pathetic smile and wraps his arm around your shoulders, the soft material of his blazer grazing against your skin. 
someone pushes the door open to the function room, and everybody around starts making their way in. your heels would’ve been caught stepping on your gown, so mingi offers you and arm to hold while you grab a bunch of material with your free hand to make walking easier.
your fiance helps you settle into your seat before sitting down next to you. the function room starts filling up, every now and then some ceo or businessman or someone walks by your table and you have no choice but to stand up to greet them. 
but all you wanted to do was to go home to the comfort of your bed and binge watch your favourite series.
not stand here, in the middle of a function room in the country’s most expensive hotel, and let these middle-aged, possibly married-with-children, men caress your hands like they didn’t already know you had a fiance. 
“you seem to have a way around men, don’t you?” mingi teases quietly, helping you push the chair in as you sat down from shaking some stranger’s hand. 
“it’s the dress, and the hair and the make up. otherwise, i’m pretty sure they don’t give a fuck.” 
mingi sucks on his teeth at your straightforward statement, noting that your parents were coming round the table. you look up to search for them upon mingi’s announcement, and you notice they were talking to another couple with their children trailing closely behind them. 
“oh god, another one--” you spit under your breath. mingi elbows you a little, standing up and cuing you to do the same as your parents come by with the other couple and their clearly-uninterested son and overly-enthusiastic daughter.  
“mingi, y/n, this is mr and mrs choi, and this is choi haneul and choi san,” your mother gestures to them as the couple reaches out for a handshake. you and mingi take turns to shake their hands, including the two children. 
you were so used to faking a smile that you were sure nobody could’ve been able to tell you absolutely hated being here. 
but your ‘service’ smile struggles to remain loyal to your need to be the perfect chaebol when you catch their son staring at you, with eyes that could kill. 
you reach your palm out to him, and he takes your hand with a firm grip. 
you almost feel something similar to static, but you shake it off by giving him a bright smile.
he reciprocates, offering you a wide grin that exposes his dimples and folded his eyes into long, slits. 
that 180 degree switch... psycho.
you pull away, and you feel his reluctance to let go for a split second. 
a frown appears on your forehead in that instant, but he releases your hand quickly, as if noticing the change of expression on your face. 
your parents wave them off as they make their way to another table. you return to your seat, now sitting between mingi and your mother who just wouldn’t shut up about the choi family.
something about splitting the company into two so each their children gets an equal half. 
something about them being very capable. 
blah blah blah...
the function hall gets filled up and every table was fully occupied. name tags were placed on tables by the seats the guests were allocated, and your eyes run through the many names and titles. you couldn’t find a single one that didn’t have a big company name attached to them. 
mingi humors you the entire dinner, and being your only source of entertainment, you couldn’t help but still feel lucky that he was chosen to be your fiance.
there were so many things about being a chaebol that was so wrong and so pathetic, and mingi knew very well how much you hated it. both of you grew up as childhood friends, for the sole reason that both your parents were partners in an important project. 
so big, rich people gatherings? your weekend plans for almost ten years straight.
when you were told that a marriage was in plan for you though, you remember threatening to run away from home unless your fiance was mingi.
and since mingi was a chaebol himself, your parents were more than happy to let the both of you get engaged, even if the two of you didn’t actually love one another. 
there was some dumb auction going on with the mc yelling into the damn mic every ten minutes, not even giving you the peace of day to eat your food that took forever to come. mingi tries to get you involved by raising your name tag, helping you offer three million for a premium yacht.
you hiss at him, nearly giving him a slap across the face when you won it.
your mother reminds you not to have too much wine and champagne, but you didn’t even want to be here in the first place. you were going to get married into the song family anyway, so it gave you the courage and liberty to do whatever the hell you wanted. 
you were so used to drinking champagne and wine that mingi doesn’t stop you until your face finally flushed bright red, and you were beginning to smile and giggle at the mc. 
an unfamiliar sight for your fiance. 
“do you need to go to the washroom to get yourself together? you look tipsy,” mingi leans into your ear and asks with concern. his question pulls out an ugly look on your face, and you reach for your champagne glass, only to realise that it was empty. 
you huff in disappointment. mingi gives you a blank look, knowing that you weren’t done with whatever attitude you had up your sleeve tonight. 
“i’m gonna hurl out all that fucking champagne and you better have my glass refilled when i get back,” you try to whisper to mingi, but you belch out all the gas that was in your stomach. 
“disgusting--” mingi winces at the scent of the alcohol. you laugh, pushing yourself out of the seat and grabbing your purse, leaning over to your parents to inform them you were heading for the washroom. 
it was a good thing you weren’t drunk, but you definitely would be if you had returned for more champagne had you not stuffed your finger down your throat. you wretched loudly, knowing that you deliberately searched for the most out-of-the-way washroom in the building, and there was nobody around to hear those inhumane noises. expensive liquid flushes out your throat and you choke on the sight. the burning sensation wasn’t a good experience, but you couldn’t be any less bothered.
you lick your lips, still cautious that you had lipstick on. turning around, you struggle to your feet and head over to the sink, head hanging low and palms pressed flat against the marble surface. 
you gather the tap water in your hand, slurping it up to try and get rid of the taste of stomach acid and alcohol in your mouth. 
didn’t help. 
you mutter some curse words under your breath, looking back up at the mirror to fix your hair and your lipstick, pulling your shoulders back so you were standing with the posture your mother spent most of your life scolding you about. 
you take a step out of the washroom, and your eyes were so occupied with mentally berating the hell out of your obscene dress that you physically ram yourself into someone’s shoulder. 
the impact throws your balance off completely, but you feel an arm snake around your waist just moments before you got fall flat on the ground. 
“oh, you.”
you fidget with uneasiness, anxiously getting your balance back in check and shoving him off you. you look down at yourself, making sure your boobs were still under the material and your slit didn’t get any higher up your thighs. 
“you’re welcome, by the way.”
you return your attention to choi san, who now had a sneaky smirk drawn across his lips. he was in an all white fit, with small black details like his cuff links and black gemstone accentuating his entire look. 
“sorry.”
you clear your throat, feeling your face flush from the realisation that you could’ve been completely fucked over by your parents if they saw the way you responded. 
‘that’s no way of thanking someone,” they’d say. 
“what are you doing here anyway? it’s such a far walk from the function hall.”
you raise a cocky brow, tongue looking for small bits of food stuck in the crevices of your teeth. you couldn’t be bothered to maintain your image now that you’ve already acted like he was molesting you. 
“me? i could ask you the same,” you tilt your head to the side, hands looking for the slit of your dress to push aside. you wouldn’t want to trip on your walk away from him. 
“i don’t like these functions. i like meeting people but i definitely don’t like watching them spend their money on ridiculous items.”
you sigh, wondering how long you were going to be stuck in this meaningless conversation with him. 
“you do realise the proceeds all go to charity anyway, don’t you?” 
“is that why you bought the premium yacht for three million?”
“no, my fiance used my name.”
“so you’re saying you didn’t want to provide the financial assistance to charity?”
your eyes harden at his accusation, and you couldn’t be more frustrated. if you weren’t in your obscene v-neck gown with that useless slit up your thighs, you would’ve already gotten your heels off to whack him on the head. 
all your emotions must’ve been put up for display all across your face, because choi san flashes you a devilish grin, eradicating any hint of his dimple-smile from before. 
the same 180 change.
“my family and i do enough charity every year. this three million doesn’t mean shit,” you take a step forward, not letting his demonic presence faze you. he was just about a few inches taller than you, so confronting him like this was nothing compared to mingi.
“so, mr choi,” you hiss under your breath, your nose just right under his. “if you’ve got nothing else constructive to say, then do excuse me. i have an event to be at.”
you gave it a few moments for him to flinch or react, but he fails. you smirk to yourself, convinced that you’ve won this showdown. you turn, ready to walk away from him, but he grabs your arm just as you walk past him and wraps his arm around your waist. if he had invested more effort into the act, he would’ve easily picked you up.
“what the fuck-- let me go!” you try thrashing yourself out of his grip, but he only pulls you harder into the hidden lift around the corner. you try to make a run for the door before it closes, but he holds you back as he hits a button on the lift panel.
he shoves you up against the wall, your rear resting against the bar that lined the walls where people could hold. he rests his palms on the bar on either sides of your hips, and he pushes his face dangerously close to yours. 
you were fuming at this psycho, but deep down in your heart, you knew you were the one to blame for inciting it. 
“you know...” he drags a finger down your earlobe and your jawline. it takes you awhile to realise that you were slowly turning away from him, gradually becoming unable to continue this power play with him. “you haven’t said ‘thank you’.”
you scoff, eyes shifting to meet his without turning your head. you wipe your canine teeth with your tongue, trying your best to read his face. 
but all you could see was that devilish grin you don’t think you were ever going to forget. 
you try to hold back from saying anything, knowing that every word you said from this moment on was going to decide his next move. but you were angry with this piece of shit, and your temper invites you to spit out the words you had on the tip of your tongue. 
“or what?”
i should not have said that. 
“that’s completely up to you.”
choi san smirks again, and you’ve never seen someone look so lustfully challenged before. the look in his eyes was enough to rile you up to it as well. though your head was screaming at you, telling you to stop, but your heart and body say otherwise. 
he sucks in a deep breath as he takes a step back, letting the lift doors open to the hallway where all the suites were. 
you expected him to grab your wrist and pull you along, but he doesn’t. confusion wasn’t the right word to describe the overwhelming feeling that ate you up, and you hated yourself for it. 
you watch in dissatisfaction as he calmly walks out of the lift and walks down about four doors. he stops right outside the cream colored door, his white fit contrasting the brown hallways, and turns to look at you.
that devilish smile was gone, replaced with a look you couldn’t begin to describe. 
you feel your stomach churn as he reaches up to his neck and starts to undo the top few buttons, exposing his collarbone. his free hand pulls out a card from the inside of his blazer, and he gets the door open. 
your hands were balled up into fists, and you could still feel his trace on your jaw as you watched him walk into the room. 
don’t do it.
you suck in a deep breath, frozen in place. 
don’t fucking do it. he knows exactly what he’s doing. 
the lift doors begin to shut. 
don’t. do. it. 
your needs and desires engulf you like flames in a burning building, and you found yourself storming straight into the suite, eyes only searching for him. before you could even notice the size of the room, you were shoved backwards against the carpeted wall.
hands were hungrily searching your body for any crevice for him to dig into, and you could already feel your lipstick getting smudged between both your lips. 
his fingers find the material of your dress that goes over your shoulders instead, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull them down your arms. you struggle to get his white blazer off, completely ignoring the rare gem that was pinned above his breast pocket. 
you were already running out of breath, teeth clashing and your tongues messily swirling around each other as his hands find the zip on your back. by the time your dress pools around your feet, you get the buttons on his shirt undone. 
you run your hands down his chest and toned stomach, but was interrupted by him picking you up against the wall. he doesn’t hesitate to attach his lips to your breasts like a hungry kitten, and the heat between the two of you becomes nearly impossible to contain.
his hair gets tangled in your fingers, desperately trying to find something to grip while lewd sounds escape your lips.
“you must not like losing,” he pulls you away from the wall, eyes looking up at you as he walks elsewhere in the room. you expected yourself to be thrown on a bed, but instead you find yourself pressed up against the window panel of the room, with the city right below your feet. 
“don’t you fucking dare,” you threaten with a low voice. but you hear him scoff, arm wrapped around your waist as he positions himself so that you were pressed flat against his chest and your breasts against the cold surface of the window. 
“but i already did.”
he whispers into your ear, somehow finding both your wrists and holding them in one hand while the other snakes down your stomach and under the only piece of clothing you were wearing. 
you bite on your bottom lip, shutting your eyes tightly upon the contact of his fingers on your sensitive spot. you hear him chuckle and he realises that you had absolutely no control over what your body needed - or wanted.
“aren’t you going to tell me that you have a fiance?” his voice was low, and almost threatening. he hooks your underwear by the side and pulls it off the curve of your rear, letting it pool around the heels you were still wearing. 
you gulp and huff heavily, listening to him undo his belt while your wrists were still trapped in his left hand. 
“answer the question, mrs song.” he presses his already hardened manhood against your core, and the contact sends chills up your spine to your head. you could feel yourself slowly losing all sense of control by the second, and him psychologically pushing you into a corner to make you submit to him wasn’t helping. 
“we could always stop now, and you could go back to the function hall like nothing happened.”
now you don’t feel the material of his underwear, but the bare skin of his manhood rubbing against your naked core. the sensation finally pushes you over the edge, and you choose your desires over the fucking obligations you were born with.
“please don’t stop.”
you brace yourself as he pushes himself into you, and he doesn’t give you much time to process the explosive feelings of need in your abdomen. picking up his pace, you feel his grip on your wrists tightening as the excessive thrusting pushes you nearer and nearer against the glass.
you hear nothing but the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the combination of the mewls and groans the both of you were offering one another. 
his free hand finds your sensitive nub, and the combination of his ramming into you with the circles drawn with pressure pushes you closer to your climax. your legs tremble under the overwhelming feeling, and he finally releases your wrists. he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you up while he continues fucking you against the window. 
you feel the weight in your abdomen get heavier after every thrust, and your irregular moans tell him that you were reaching your high. 
something inside you snaps, and you raise your head to look at the window, water vapour already collected in messy patterns on the surface. 
he pulls out and you feel his load landing on your lower back, the only sounds you could hear now was the panting from the both of you. 
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
you take your seat between mingi and your mother again, legs still shaking ever so slightly, and you were hoping nobody was going to notice that your hair didn’t look at neat as it was before.
“i thought you got lost in the bathroom,” mingi looks at you while you down a whole cup of water before attacking the champagne. 
“well,” you shrug, eyes catching a glance of choi san returning to his seat. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”
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sleepywinchester · 8 years ago
Text
UNUSUAL | PT. 19
Summary: The Winchesters found her in Crowley’s supernatural prison guarded by a dozen of demons. Keeping her as leverage without even knowing she’s the big key everyone is looking for. 
Autor: @sleepywinchester | prev. deanwinchester-af 
Pairings: Dean x OFC (Eventually)
Characters: Dean Winchester, Katherine Pierce, Sam Winchester, Benny.
Words: 1.5k+
Warnings: None.
Title: Mistakes Were Made
A/N: This is part of my series re-write. This chapter is also written in first person; idk, I just felt like writing it that way.  Is been a while since I’ve written for this fic and geez, forgot how much I love it. | gifs are not mine |
Feedback is always appreciated it <3
Masterlist
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There was nothing entertaining playing on TV, there were no signs of cases, and the claustrophobic began to overcome my senses. I could take almost everything but boredom, that was something that didn’t suit me. Three days in Bobby’s old cabin with Dean was my limit, I couldn’t handle being in here another hour. Dean wasn’t a bad company, it were the mixed up thoughts and feelings what worried me.
“That’s it,” I spat, standing up from the old couch and shutting the TV off.
“Where are you going?” Dean’s asked without taking his eyes off the laptop.
“We,” I corrected him. “We are going to the bar,” I kept talking as I made my way to his side. My tone casual with a notch of demanding. “If we don’t go out tonight, I’ll lose my mind.”
Dean barely reacted to my words. He scoffed softly without disconnecting from his laptop.
“Suit yourself,” he replied.
A deep and slightly annoyed sigh crawled up my throat. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. We were going to go out of this cabin tonight. I didn’t care if I had to drag his fine ass out of the cabin myself. It wasn’t until I shut Dean’s laptop close that his green eyes finally met mine.
“Hey!?” Dean snapped.
My eyebrows rose, “Stop stalking your brother and let’s go out!”
Dean rolled his eyebrows, saying, “I’m not stalking, Sammy.”
“You’ve been keeping tabs on him since he left the cabins three days ago,” I rested a hand on top of the table, looking down into Dean’s eyes. “Sam’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. Now can we just go? I’m starving and I want a beer.”
Tonight we were going out and there’s nothing Dean Winchester would do to get out of this. Without waiting for an answer from him, I took my leather jacket from the chair next to him and walked out of the cabin.  
Dean watched you with squinted eyes as you walked outside. A part of him couldn’t believe the audacity of your tone, the other part was turned on by your bossy attitude. He sighed deeply giving in to your demands, grabbing his jacket and strolled out. The corners of Dean’s lips curved for a second when he saw you already sitting in the passenger seat.  
“You can be really bossy sometimes,” Dean got inside the car.. “And a real pain in the ass.”
“You love it.” I taunted with a wink, “Now let’s go before we miss happy hour.”
Dean scoffed once again, scoffing and keeping his cool. He did enjoyed those characteristic about you. It was his pride that stopped him from accepting the feeling and say it outloud.
- - - -
It was a Tuesday and giving the day of the week, the bar wasn’t as lonely as expected. Instead it was crowded with some noticeable couples and lots some other fellas. It wasn’t till I saw the hearts in some of the spots of the bar that I remembered which day it was.
“I completely forgot it was Valentine’s Day,” I muttered taking a swing of the half drank beer, glancing at a couple kissing by the bar. They seemed happy and functional, the woman was laughing her ass off at something her boyfriend said.
Dean was looking at the same couple as well, “I forgot too which is weird.”
My eyes looked into Dean’s gorgeous green eyes, “I bet is a busy night for Dean Winchester.”
The taunt on my voice made him chuckle, showing his teeth before biting his lower lip.
“I get by,” Dean said before having another swig of the amber licor resting on his cup.
The Winchester suddenly didn’t felt like talking about his game or how smoothly he hits on women and take them home. Maybe it was respect or keeping his privacy to himself but talking that topic with Katherine didn’t felt right.
“So…” I licked my lip, searching for a way to break the sudden awkward silence. “What really happened with Sam?” He gave me a flat look in response. “Come on, Dean. It’s been three days, it’s good to talk about the shit you’re going through sometimes.”
Dean sighed deeply and shrugged, “You know what happened with him. I sent a phantom text to his ex-girlfriend. Sammy got mad and we’re not really on talkin’ terms. Simple.”
“That was a dick move,” I replied with a steady tone, “but he will get over it.”
“Yeah,” Dean scoffed drinking the last sip of his whiskey.
“Soon Sam will come around and you guys will pair back up to annoy the hell out of me.” I took a sip of my beer.
Dean arched his eyebrow, “You’re not a peach yourself, Kat. You’re bossy and sarcastic.”
Flashing a flirty grin, I leaned backwards, “You love my company, Winchester.”
“Why are you still here, Katherine?” Dean suddenly asked with a serious look on his face. I didn’t spoke taking my time to think a valid answer. “I mean,” he leaned forward, “you can be anywhere in the world right now - since we helped Benny but… you’re still here. Why?”
“I like-” I took a pause to lick my lower lip and shrug, “I like helping people… It makes me feel redemption for all the horrible things I’ve done. In my head if I save as many people as I’ve hurt, I might wake up one morning where I actually like the person staring back at me in the mirror.”
“Hmm” Dean hummed staring into my eyes. “I know the feeling. “ He ignored the waitress when she came back to grab the empty plates and place a new round of beers on the table. “That’s the same reason I hunt.”
Grabbing the beer, leaning it forward for a cheer, “To redemption.”
He grabbed his and shook it with mine, “To redemption.”
After both taking a swing of the beer, I hopped off the stool and grabbed my beer. Walking towards the free pool table without asking him to come with me. Somehow I knew Dean Winchesters would always follow my steps. He meet me by the pool table and I smirked watching him have a manly and mouthful swing of his beer.
“You’re gonna lose,” Dean bragged.
I stepped backwards with a flirty and daring smirk on my face. Touching the velvet rug inside the pool table as I walked. Dean’s eight ball skills are competent and he’s a damned good player and hustler. Daring him was something that brought me satisfaction. Laying the beer on the edge of the table and I went to grab the sticks.
“Let’s see, shall we?” I teased, tossing him a stick.
Dean’s eyebrow arched grabbing the stick and staring back at me with a slightly flirty cloud in his eyes. He knew your game and there was enough alcohol in his system to play along.
“I break,” he spoke with confidence and got the balls in position.
He leaned over the pool, his eyes staring at the triangle made of colorful and numbered balls in front of him. Dean raised his vision to meet my eyes and throw a smug wink before breaking the triangle and starting the game. What it supposed to be just one game of pool became three games, two hours and a handful of beers later.
The chart was two - one, with Dean Winchester on the lead. I wasn’t furious but I wasn’t happy about it either. We were drunk and alcohol made us forget about stereotypes and the millions reasons of why shouldn’t think of each other in anything more than friends. Between beers and turns we shared laughs and silly jokes no one except us would find funny. Dean looked at me before making the winning shot.
“Ha-ha,” Dean laughed with pride of his skills.
I sighed harshly and drank the last of my beer.
“Good thing we didn’t bet on anything,” I said softly.
Dean and I walked towards each other without noticing we were already close to each other. Both staring into each other’s eyes, neither of us feeling the need of saying a word.
“You don’t suck,” I taunted with a flirty smirk.
“You don’t suck either, Kat,” Dean licked his lips.
Dean clenched his jaw, suddenly my knees felt stable, he got closer and my heart beat faster. My sight was on his lips, kissing him was all I could think about. It took me by surprise when Dean’s lips crashed on mine, kissing me with so much lust and desire. 
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Every inch in my body wanted to kiss him endlessly.  Every nerve in my body also wanted to jump on him and make love on top of the pool table. I wanted him. I craved him but my subconscious knew I couldn’t have him. That it was wrong for an ex-monster to be with a hunter. Love wasn’t made for me, Dean wasn’t someone I deserved having.
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