#i would draw it but my wisdom tooth was taken out and no one warned me it would hurt soso miuch

[neptunym]

guys will be like "ill defeat you with the power of friendship" and literally stab you in the back

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Into The Thick of It (2)

Loki x Female Reader

Chapter 2: The God

Series Summary: Her work as an agriculturist nearly takes the readers life is not for a stranger (and his weird looking dog) who later turns out to be the God of Mischief. Thrown into a completely different realm, you want to figure out a way home while trying to stay out of the way of this literal God. But fate has its own plans for the two of you.

Written for @tarithenurse and her #Taris1Kchallenge

Warnings: sexist remarks

Word Count: My jaw is selectively pounding now that my wisdom tooth is out and the stitches are in place. It feels so weird because its not like you can simply scratch an itch or around the itch in some way.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"How does this look?" Zaira is holding up a green dress that goes down to your toes in length. You give the deep shade a once over and turn back to your laptop. "Meh." Zaira tsks. "I mean-" you breathe and give your attention to your friend- "it's okay. For you. For me?" You shake your head and shrug before trying to discreetly get back to the screen. "Bullshit. You look amazing in green." You try to find the mouse on the screen. "Are you sure?" The question is bland. "Of course! No one can carry this like you! And for the sake of all things holy, stop looking at your death again and again!" Your brows furrow at the statement, turning back to Zaira, who still stands there with the green dress, except for one thing- the usual workspace of white and grey is now replaced with an eerily familiar dark forest with trees trying to touch the sky. "What?" It is nothing more than a whisper, this word erupting from your lips at the change in scenery. Your mind is at the edge of a realisation waiting to erupt when your hand feels an unwelcoming heat. The immediate reaction is to get your arm away from the laptop, or at least that is what you think you are doing considering the last saved spot of this occurrence in your memory. But there is no laptop. No chairs or tables.  Just a bonfire in front of you and your hands covered in blood and tied in ropes tearing through your flesh. And beyond that fire are figures in the dark chanting verses that are alien to your ears. But just as the chanting grows louder, you can feel a cloud of dread begin to loom of your heart; growing bigger by the second. Zaira! You are screaming her name but your voice isn't audible and you cannot see her anywhere either. Zaira!! You call out for her again when the figures seem to be getting closer to you, the anxiety in your chest beginning to hurt even more.  ZAIRA!!!

The loudness of her name in your conscience jerks you awake with the dread transported straight out of your hallucination. Still breathless and sweating from the nightmare, your head pounds at the sudden jump to the reality of finding yourself lying under a fur skin as heavy as you inside what seemed like a tent. From where you lay, the roof is a muddy beige colour dense enough to block sun or rain. Turning your head to your right, you can see a side table housing a copper goblet along with a copper jug. I hope to the Gods that water. I don't care if it's laced with poison at this moment. Turning to your left you are taken a little back to see familiar golden eyes staring from the copper jug back at you, so close that that saliva ridden tongue could lick you if it wanted. "Hi," you greet the familiar creature from the night of your nightmare, your heart still trying to dilute, resting by your side. The creature tilts its neck a little before you can see its tail rise up and swing from side to side. Such a doggo. You try to get up- with much effort, thanks to this animal duvet weighing just as much or maybe more than you- and breathe the cold air around you. Even though the anxiety of this recent incident is still looming around you in the corners you don't want to look at, it is a relief to feel the quiet around you. And the weird doggo looking at you seems to make those corners lighter, convincing your heart that it all ended not so bad at some point. Moving the fur duvet off you to get to the water on your side, you suddenly find yourself quickly putting the fur back on at the momentary realisation of something major amiss, bringing back all that anxiety that was watching you from the corners. "Where the fuck are my clothes?" you whisper right at the doggo despite knowing that poor thing can only swing its tail whenever you look at it. "They were tattered beyond repair." The voice immediately brings your duvet up to your chin before your eyes dart towards the entrance in front of you. No fucki-oh. A woman with skin paler than the pale described for Bella from Twilight stands at the entrance of the tent with a bunch of warm clothing. Her eyes carry a hint of grey and muddy green in them. She takes it upon herself to have already gotten permission to walk towards your side and place the clothes she has got in front of you before going back to secure the entrance. "You were fortunate to be alive in those deadly woods of the dark," she mentions while taking a thermos out of her dress and pouring the contents in the bowl kept on the makeshift table; all the while with her back towards you. You, still cautious of the eyes around you, slowly snuck the clothes inside the duvet to put them on. Only when putting them on, you realise the lack of a bra or panties; just a loose cotton camisole in their stead. ...okay. Maybe they didn't know my size. You look back at the woman busying herself around the tent. All you can see is the huge- and seemingly heavy- overcoat made out of an animal. Or maybe they...don't have the resources? Great, Y/N. Go be a judgmental b for the people who saved your life. The gown is a deep blue shade that neatly wraps around your shape and is put in place with the hooks, the last step being securing it all with the one string tied in what only you would call a bow. "So, it was you who saved me last night?" The woman brought you a bowl with steaming hot stew, bursting out in laughter on hearing your question. You stand there watching her immediately suppress the laughter as if she had been caught red-handed for a grave crime. "My apologies for what you just saw. It was not me who saved you." And before you can ask who it was, the woman gathers a wide bowl filled with water, a couple of hand towels and two bowls of what looked like homemade ointments, and walks out of the tent. You are about to go thinking about the materials that woman just took away when the only being you are familiar with, gets up from the bed, jumps down and struts out of the tent. "Wait...don't leave me," you whimper in a low tone, gathering a bit of strength to walk out right behind him. . The clearing in the forest has been turned into a camp with soldiers bustling in any direction you look. Swords, bows and arrows are being used for practice in one corner and the same are being mended in the other. Helmets akin to the ones Vikings wore can be seen on top of many heads. So can the undercut and braids. "Is this a cosplay fair?" you ask the one guy who passes by close to you. He is nearly the same height as you, but with a lush red beard and hazel eyes.  He- and his two friends- observes you from head to toe, almost making you realise how out of place you already look. "This is a war camp, missy. One where you have no reason staying." You mock a laugh at the audacity of this person. "I will decide the reason for my stay myself...boy." You start to walk away, trying to find any familiar figure in this quite realistic cosplay village. But last you remembered, there has been no such fair going on in the vicinity of that cursed town. A heated hand captures your arm and forces you to turn around. A wince comes out of you and flashes of that gory incident move before your eyes. Especially the face of that man. The Viking guy takes a step towards you, not letting go of your hand in the first wank. "Sigmund! Who is this wench with a quick mouth?" Sigmund, the taller of the three men, with bulky features and a sharp nose huffed. "Someone who needs to learn her place, Kare." "Aye," the last of the three speaks, "she does not look like help. Not in that silk she wears." Kare smirks through that unruly beard of his. "Why, are you that prince's mistress then, lassy? Is that why you came out from those royal tents, eh?" Kare turns towards his lads to laugh, who had slowly gathered now to watch the show, giving you something new to be anxious about. Agni, on the other hand, makes his way through this crowd to come and stand next to you, observing the situation. "Fucking dogs," you whisper under your breath- which you are trying your best to stop from trembling- and begin to walk away again but Kare is already hopping in your path. "Why in such a hurry, my lady?" He bows and turns towards his lads to let his words be heard by everyone "Give us unworthy lads a chance to find out how well you warm the royal beds, eh?" But the 'lads' seem to be having a sudden seizure. Either that or the joke did not seem to register. A sudden movement behind you and all the eyes staring past you assure you in your heart that it is the former one. "Your lads do not seem to find that funny, Kare." A voice not too deep but certainly somewhere right under the surface with a weight that can be felt in your bones, speaks from right behind you, freezing you where you stand. It takes some time for you to turn around and look at the source of the voice. And once you do, you realise how tall this man stands. His pale skin is radiant and his features sharp. You could draw straight lines just by referencing his cheekbones. His black hair- perhaps the only one with black hair in this cosplay fair- is neatly braided in braids at each side and the rest of the hair left open. What shampoo does he use? "I pity your mother and sister," this man continues, "for meeting your lads in an alley someday and being asked the same question." He does not stir his gaze from Kare, constantly piercing through that man's existence without so much as a smile.  "Apologies, your grace." Your grace?  You turn to watch Kare and his buddies drop their heads down and then it hits you. Your grace?!!! Your head whips around with the air of surprise as you watch this man in a new light. I mean, yeah, he kinda looks like a...'your grace'. "It is not me you should be apologising to." He doesn't even blink. He is as stoic as a boulder and everyone here revolves around him. "Apologies...my lady." The words bring you out of the trance that this man's face has created for you and you turn to watch Kare bow to you along with his 'lads'. "Ansa!" the man calls out for someone, finally turning to look at you. You have to catch your breath when those green eyes bore into you, the stare not too piercing and neither too soft. Just balanced. But damn the skies for it is making you lose your balance somewhere inside you. "Yes, my lord," the familiar lady comes out of the crowd to stand before him with her head low. "How is the weather today?" He simply puts the question. Within seconds you realise what the question really is about. You try your best to stand still in this chilly weather despite the sun high in the sky but it is as if he can smell the chill off you. "It's cold my l-" she realises it too, running to the nearest tent to grab a fur coat just like her Lord's and put it gently on your shoulders. "My apologies, my lady. Apologies, my lord." "Are the armies ready for the west front, Aren?" "Yes, your grace. Two battalions are ready to march to the mountains. They wait for my signal." Aren, a tall ginger with soft features gives a warm smile when you look in his direction. "Very well. Go for it then." And with that command, Aren walks to the space vacating in front of you, spreads his arms and transforms into an eagle to fly up and away beyond the nearest mountain. You are left with your jaw unhinged as you try to make sense of what just happened, turning towards the man in charge here; all the while pointing at the sky. "H-how?" "Walk with me..." that commanding voice a couple of minutes ago has transformed into a soft tone that captures a completely different personality of this man. "Y/N." "Y/N," he repeats the name as if to memorise it, and lets his arm gesture you towards the direction you are asked to walk. "I am Loki, of Asgard. Pleased to make your acquaintance." "Asgard?" you wonder the name out loud, confusion visibly dripping from your face. "There is no place by the name Asgard on the maps? Is this further north in the Alps? Wait...are we still in Norway or did we change countries?" The guards by the biggest tent make way for Loki and you to enter. Unlike the place you woke up in, this one houses everything fit for a king. From the bed to the cutlery. And everything has a colour theme going on for some reason. A real deep shade of green. Even Loki's fur coat carries blues and greens as if they had been specially plunged from the deepest corners of the oceans on earth. "Y/N-" he gestures you to sit down on the settee by the foot of the bed while he pours you wine in a goblet- "I have to tell you something. Be kind enough to hear me out before jumping to conclusions." You take the glass from his hand and sit down on the settee. Oh! cold hands! Is he okay? It's really chilly out there. "What?" You wait for him to start. Loki stands by the conference table and faces you, his hands working with each other as he looks at them before finally letting his gaze meet yours. "You are no longer on earth. You were transported to Asgard last night during the Pagan ritual, where you were conveniently made a sacrifice, and would have died if not for Agni hearing your prayers and tearing that scum apart." Silence. Loki’s features show no emotions when he narrates the reality to you. In fact, he waits for a reaction from your end, carefully studying those y/e/c eyes as they blink at him in unadulterated innocence, turn away to look at Agni and then come back to him. Ultimately, you take a sip from the goblet, letting the wine go down your throat, the involuntary reflex of tasting something not to your liking naturally coming over your face. Waiting for a few seconds, you bring the goblet back to your lips, this time gulping down the contents within a breath. "Okay." Loki looks at you with a focused glare before tilting his head a little. "Okay?" You nod. "Are you-" Loki pauses to come and sit down in the chair right in front of you but at a respectable distance- "okay with everything that I just told you? All the parts of it that do not make sense to a human?" You breathe in a lungful. "Oh, Gods! No. I am overwhelmed at this point. To even consider the fact that I am not currently on earth and that I was about to be raped by an eighteen-year-old cultist if not for your wonderful doggo and you, I am considering. Because now that I look at you I completely put you in the silhouette I saw last night. And I thought this was some adult dress-up show going on until a legit person just turned into an eagle and fucking flew away right in front of my eyes. I mean...it would take a good amount of CGI to actually make that happen just in the movies, forget real life. And if I am not on earth, the thought of getting out of doing mindless labour because your boss is an asshole is very appealing, mind you. Even though that means I have been thrown straight into a pit of testosterone-filled sexist Vikings who look like they will pounce on me the first chance they get. So...yeah. I am...I...uhh...have decided to shut my brain down till-" you simply shrug before breaking into nervous laughter and bringing the empty goblet back to your lips, raising it as far as it could go before it decided to release a drop into your desperate mouth. Loki blinks at you before breaking into a smirk that he hides from your eyes. It feels like he has watched you slowly crumble a little within the last few moments when all you did was talk. He has noticed those shaking hand movements and those trembling lips that force a smile to show they are doing absolutely fine. He has observed that shift of your fingers to scratch an itch on your exposed neck and that movement of turning that sole ring made out of iron in your index finger; hiding your anxieties in the rotations of that little circle. And now he watches you trying to dissolve the incoming anxious winds in alcohol. He knows this look too well. The look of fear; fear of the unknown. Loki raises his hand to you. "Allow me to refill that. With something better." You watch his hands and make a mental note of those long pale fingers and how good they would seem wrapped around anything. "Something better? I don't think Asgard could provide me with a Long Island Iced Tea or a Jeager Bomb. Or a Zombie." Loki simply chuckles and you find yourself stuck on that toothed smile of his. Is he the same guy who was dragging his soldiers in the mud like anything? Taking the goblet from you, he gets up and walks towards a little cabinet that opens up like a medieval bar.  "I sympathise with you being so far away from home. But I can assure you these...Vikings will not touch you or even think about pouncing on you ever." You furrow your brows and let your arms rest on each side while you tilt your head a little in question. "They know it better than to even think about what I claim as mine." You feel little chills go up your spine at his words, your legs going one over the other as you wiggle away certain scenarios from your mind. Damn! He should write dialogues for the entertainment industry. "Excuse me, sir," you press while raising your brow, "I may have fallen on your royal highness' land but that ain't making me anyone's property...considering this is your property." You cannot see it from where you sit, but the God chuckles at your audacity of raising your voice at him. He comes back to you with your drink. You notice that this time it is not the familiar red wine waiting for you in the goblet but something relatively darker and comparatively with a more medicinal odour. "No one will harm you. Agni will make sure of it. Isn't that right, beast?" You turn to watch Agni sitting right next to your feet, immediately wagging his tail at the mention of his name, contently growling as assurance. You notice how familiar this creature look to the Pitbulls back on earth. Give them pits some pointed skeleton for their backbone, a pair of horns and huge canines and these two breeds will be a copy of each other. "And we will find you a safe passage home once we reach back to the city." Home. unfortunately for you, the first thing at the mention of 'home' is the rush of crude flashbacks from last night of that horrid nameless town. No matter how hard you try to breathe in, the scenes keep on coming. Both Loki and Agni seem to sense the uneasiness creeping onto you. Your racing heartbeat and uneasiness of breath can be heard by them as clear as you can. "I hope you were not too attached to your clothes. I had to tear them apart to treat your wounds," Loki announces, gulps his herbal drink and walks towards the entrance of the tent. "Yeah, no problem. They were just clo-wait what? WHAT? You-" you get up and lower your voice for the fear of any third person hearing it- "you tore my clothes?" He nods with the most neutral expression you wanted to punch. "Yes. As you mentioned, they were just clothes. And nothing I haven't seen before. Now come on." You wonder whether to be relieved or angry with this one. Putting that thought on the back burner to simmer for a while, you gulp down the goblet without breaking any eye contact with him.  "Where are we going?" "To get you out of your clothes again," he states without skipping a beat and you have to question all the good you have thought about him till now. Son of a bitch! What an ass- "You stink. About time you took a bath."

[untamed-sun]

Lan Wangji (and Wei Wuxian) Meta

I promised @myakkoh to write up a meta I posted to discord. This will be slightly different from what I wrote there, as I’m not copying/pasting and I’m not on my phone. :)

I want to talk about Wei Wuxian before getting into Lan Wangji, first. Or talk about how my (Western/Christian) background which may badly shape that perception for a decidedly not Western or Christian show?  Fair warning, there’s spoilers if you haven’t finished the story.

In the Old Testament there’s this bit about ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”. This was a way to reduce the threat of blood feuds and violence. In MZDS we have Xue Yang, for example, who says that the loss of his finger was worth the lives of an entire clan. 

That’s the sort of thing that creates an escalating spiral of violence. Xue Yang loses a finger. He kills fifty Chang Clan members. If they had survived, and if Xue Yang had his own clan... then maybe one of thsoe survivors would have killed 100 of his kith and kin. 

Limiting the violence to ‘an eye for an eye’ (or a finger for a finger... or even, as Xiao Xingchen pointed out, an arm for a finger) places limits on that. 

That sort of view is a bit transformative. It’s natural for us to care mostly for ourselves and our loved ones, but we have a variety of cultural wisdom that help us see past that. The Silver Rule of Confucius, the Golden Rule of Christianity. Reminders to care for each other even when we’re not related by blood or friendship.

Wei Wuxian has that sort of wisdom. He sees injustice and doesn’t want to keep his head down and stay safe. That’s one of the underlying differences between him and Jiang Cheng. 

This isn’t to knock on Jiang Cheng - he’s a Sect Leader, was the Heir, and he has to worry about his people. He also lost almost everyone when Lotus Pier fell, and he’s fundamentally more concerned with his people. He wanted to protect Wei Wuxian, and if the cost of that was letting all the Wen Remnants die that was fine. He repeatedly criticizes Wei Wuxian for trying to be a hero, for stepping up and drawing attention.

Wei Wuxian knows that somebody has to do it, that if everyone keeps their head down and tries to avoid trouble that ultimately they will all suffer. Jiang Cheng would rather he and his stay safe. 

Jiang Cheng and Wen Chao both have asked Wei Wuxian why he was playing the hero, which is funny because Wei Wuxian is a hero, and is definitely not ‘playing’ at it.

Part of the tragedy of this story is that Wei Wuxian fails at it. That other people suffer the consequences for his attempts to ‘be the change you want to see’. He’s transformative, but ultimately rather fails at transforming the cultivation world (at least, when it comes to the Wen Remnants and how they are treated after their defeat.)

But this all started with Lan Wangji. 

The differences and similarities between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are fascinating. Wei Wuxian has an infamous reputation, the worst parts of which are unearned. Lan Wangji has a stellar reptutation, much of which is also unearned.

He’s not as ‘pure’ and ‘good’ as his reputation makes him out to be. We don’t see a lot of his interiority, so it’s hard to say how much he did it out of love and how much was because he felt Wei Wuxian was unfairly villainized. Truth to tell, I find the novel story arc a bit confusing and complicated here (Lan Wangji protects him in a cave? But then the Lan elders find him and he fights them off and loses. So three months later the cultivation world has the first siege of the Burial Mound, and Wei Wuxian dies... and Lan Wangji only hears about it later? The CQL version has it’s own problems, and I’m sad that the second siege of the Burial Mound isn’t as coherent and misses some important bits from the novel, but it also is a bit... easier to understand the timeline. I like to think Wei Wuxian falling off the cliff is because he knows the backlash is coming from destroying the Stygian Tiger Seal rather than suicide, but that’s my own personal headcanon. Novel Wei Wuxian died of a backlash, after all.)

We see that he can be jealous and petty, particularly when it comes to Wei Wuxian. Novel Lan Wangji also forcibly kisses a blindfolded Wei Wuxian on Phoenix Mountain, and helped save Wei Wuxian after the massacre at Nightless City, where Wei Wuxian (tragic hero though he mostly is) did commit mass murder. There's a tumblr post I can't find right now that talks about that, and the novel sex scenes, and consent. It seems some translations make it sound worse than the original?

What is interesting to note is that despite his jealousy he never really tried to control Wei Wuxian. He was hurt and upset, especially when he realized Wei Wuxian flirted meaninglessly. He stole the pouch Mianmian gave Wei Wuxian and used it as his money bag and he warned Wei Wuxian that people can get hurt by his flirting, but... he's not trying to force Wei Wuxian to be with him.

Anyways. CQL and novel characterizations are a bit different, but the CQL definitely shows how at their core Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are very similar. They share the same values, they care about protecting the weak and defenseless. They care about justice, and right and wrong.

In Wei Wuxian’s first life, Lan Wangji was too hampered by his upbringing. By respect for his Uncle, his brother, and the rules he was raised to believe in. He wasn’t just struggling with his feelings for Wei Wuxian. He saw that the Wen Remnants weren’t the threat rumor made them out to be, knew Wei Wuxian was being unfairly maligned... and wasn’t ready to take the next step.

Wei Wuxian cut ties to his family and stepped onto that single plank bridge. He told Jiang Cheng that he would have saved the Wens even if it hadn’t been for Wen Ning and Wen Qing. He wasn’t doing it because he owed them, he was doing it because that’s what was right. Despite how deeply Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng love each other, there’s a fundamental difference there.

That difference isn’t there with Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji didn’t disagree with Wei Wuxian’s values, so much as that he was still very confused about a lot of things. Wei Wuxian practiced demonic cultivation, which was evil according to everything Lan Wangji has been taught. Wei Wuxian flippantly disregards rules that Lan Wangji spent his life following. Lan Wangji wasn’t ready to challenge everything he’d built his life on. 

And then Wei Wuxian dies.

Lan Wangji’s punishment for fighting with the elders is... interesting on a number of levels. 

It reminds me a bit of my experiences in the military, actually. Discipline is important, following orders is important (you don’t want to waste time arguing or explaining in a life or death situation!)... but soldiers don’t actually blindly obey. Or rather, they’re not supposed to. We’re not supposed to follow orders that are illegal. As World War II and the Nuremburg Trials show, ‘just following orders’ is not an acceptable excuse when you’re ordered to do something wrong.

Despite that, there is a safety in following orders, and following the rules. It doesn’t put the burden of deciding what’s right or wrong on you. Deciding that a particular rule or order shouldn’t be obeyed is a decision that shouldn’t be taken lightly, and you should be able to justify or explain that decision.

And... you should be able to accept the consequences of that decision. If you truly believed it was right, truly believed it was important, then it should be important enough to do even if you get in trouble with it.

This is how I interpret Lan Wangji’s punishment. He accepted it, showing that he still respects the rules (and the elders, and his clan)... but everyone also knew that he would still make the same choice again if he had to. 

He is not rejecting everything the Lan stand for, not defecting from his clan. He has, however, chosen to use his own judgement (and accepted the consequences of so doing.)

It shows some of the same transformative elements as Wei Wuxian defecting to protect the Wen. 

[winsister91]

This Means War

Summary: Reader and Dean have a bet on who can pick up the most people at the bar and things get competitive.

Characters: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2172

Warning: Language, fluff, implied smut

A/N: Flirt war! Just let your imagination run wild at the end of this I guess, I fear my smut gets repetitive :/ Been nursing a pulled wisdom tooth for the last couple of days so apologies if it's well... crappy. I’m not 100% but writing makes the pain lessen somewhat :)

My Masterlist!

~ Dean and forever tags are open! ~

Tag list originally from @spnfanficpond I deleted a bunch that didn’t seem to be working, and now some of these aren’t working either? I don’t understand Tumblr tags at all. Feel free to lemme know if you’d like to be added/removed.

“The next time Sam says 'ooh it's a simple ghost haunting, you guys can handle it', remind me to hit him in the face with a brick,” You groan throwing yourself onto one of the motel beds.

“Noted,” Dean grunts as he copies you. You're both covered head to toe in black goopy ectoplasm and cut up to hell. It wasn't as simple as Sam thought but...well you had both handled it.

“Aw man, now it's all over the sheets,” you grimace as you sit up and see a perfect black outline from where you've been laid, “Perfect.”

“Well, I'm getting a shower,” Dean announces getting to his feet, “Then we're hitting the bar.”

“Ugh does it have to be we?” you scoff, “Do I really have to sit and watch you hit on skanks all night?”

“They're not all skanks,” Dean laughs, “And yes it is we. I need a wing-woman.”

You roll your eyes and drop back onto the bed.

“Why don't you give it a go?” he asks with a wink.

“Excuse me?” you respond confused, heart skipping a beat at thought of him meaning what you think he might be.

“Let your hair down! Have some fun for once!” Dean shouts, “Relax, get drunk, hit on some guys! You're hot so I'm sure you'd be able to get a sweetheart for the night!”

“Dean Winchester,” you raise a threatening eyebrow, trying to cover your heart sinking because he wasn't on the same wavelength as you, “If I want to grab myself a honey, I do it on my own terms.”

“Spontaneity is a fine thing,” he grins.

“If we both pick someone up, we can't exactly fetch them back here can we?” you argue, “Beds are ruined and we're sharing a room for crying out loud!”

“Who says we got to fetch them here?” he shrugs, “Go back to their place.”

“Valid point...” you mumble, “Fine whatever. Be quick with that shower then, and don't moan at me when I'm getting ready. It takes time to make this face beautiful.”

“I doubt that,” he smiles cheekily and shuts the bathroom door behind him.

You both enter the bar and you feel smoking. Just a simple tight black tee paired with skinny jeans and boots, but your eyeliner is so on point and hair stylishly tousled. You couldn't remember the last time you'd put makeup on and gone out, what with all the hunts lately, but doing so tonight had given you a new found confidence. Or maybe it was the slight jaw drop from Dean when he saw you that had given you the boost. Nonetheless, you felt pretty damn good.

You stride to the bar, already noting a few eyes drift your way and sit yourself down on a barstool at the end. You order yourself some cheap cocktail, giving the cute bartender a seductive smile.

“Okay,” Dean sips on a beer next to you and scans the room, “Who are you introducing me to first?”

“Hold on there Casanova,” you laugh, “If I'm on my own prowl tonight, I can't be your wing-woman at the same time.”

“You're gonna leave me to fend for myself?” Dean looks slightly hurt, “Fine. I can handle myself. Don't you wanna be going out there prowling?”

“No need,” You give a cocky smirk, “All I gotta do is sit here, and they'll come to me baby.”

“Yeah sure okay,” Dean laughs, “Let's see how that goes for ya. I betcha I can pull at least three chicks by the time someone mans up and comes over to you.”

“How much?” you ask, still smirking.

“What?”

“How much do you wanna bet?”

“Ugh...I dunno, ten bucks?”

“C'mon more interesting than money! I say...whoever gets the most people's numbers tonight doesn't have to drive with a hangover tomorrow.”

Dean looks you up and down with an expression of shock, “I uh...wasn't expecting you to be so laid back and candid about trying to pick people up.”

“Well you were right,” you bite your lip as the bartender catches your eye again, “Maybe I should let my hair down and have some fun for once.”

Dean shoots the bartender a glare, before rolling his shoulders and heading out into the 'playing field'. You narrow your eyes whilst you observe him head up to one of his typical candidates. She may as well have just come out in her underwear there was so much skin on show, and her heels are so high they were like stilts. Each to their own you guess. You feel that awfully familiar pit form in your stomach as he leans in to whisper some sweet nothings. You get this feeling whenever you see him hitting on someone but you don't allow yourself to acknowledge it. Tonight is your time to shine, and you will not lose this bet. A loud smacking sound comes from Dean's direction, from the slap he just received from stilts girl. You can't help yourself but burst into laughter, promptly stopping when he shoots a warning glare in your direction.

“Another?” the bartender asks as you finish your cocktail.

“Hmm it was a little sweet for me, what would you recommend?” You lean on the bar with a lone finger playing with your hair.

“I'm a rum and coke guy myself,” he answers, taking your empty glass.

“Rum and coke it is then,” you smile, biting your lip as you flutter your eyes at him. He smiles back as he fetches you your drink.

“So uh...what time do you get off?” you ask, deciding to just dive straight in. You were adamant not to drive in the morning.

The guy laughs, “You're straight to the point!”

“Have to be when presented with fine specimens like yourself,” you giggle, noticing Dean re-approaching for a new beer, “C'mon, humour me.”

“Well... my husband picks me up at about eleven,” the bartender answers with a look of sympathy.

“Oh...” your face drops and you feel your cheeks turn hot from blushing.

“Sorry to disappoint hun,” the bartender pats you on the head like a child and turns to tend to his other patrons.

“Haha!” Dean laughs when the guy is out of earshot and elbows you, “So that's one to me and nil to you?”

“What?” you quickly spin around to face the Winchester and he presents a napkin with some number scrawled on it in lipstick, “Aw, crap.”

Sometime later you’re at a draw with three all. Your new tactic of hanging around the pool table with a group of guys and joining in their own little tournament was also working out marvellously. Dean had taken your spot at the bar, introducing himself to ladies innocently buying a drink and giving them his full on charm offence. Despite the attention from the pool table hunks, your eyes consistently drifted in Dean's direction. You could have sworn you caught his eyes on you a number of times. That pit in your guts refuses to shift.

On your way back from a bathroom trip, you spot Dean talking to your hunks.

“I mean, gold digger. Completely. My friend woke up and she was gone as well as his phone and wallet,” you catch him saying to them.

“Wait, what!?” you squeal as your new friends make a hasty retreat, “Dean!?”

“What?” he laughs, “The betting rules never stipulated interference.”

“You son of a-” you start before taking a breath to compose yourself, “Fine. This means war.”

Round 1

You skulk up to the blonde Dean has been chatting up just as he goes to the bar to grab them both a drink. “Hey,” you whisper and the girl turns to you puzzled, “My sister hooked up with that guy a week or so ago. Crabs.”

Dean approaches while you dance with a baby-faced cutie. “Again?” he says, pulling out his fake FBI ID, “I'll let you off this night Miss Spankalot, but I catch you in here looking for customers again, I'll have to take you in.”

Round 2

You run up and slap Dean amongst a group of girls on their hen night. “You bastard!” You cry over dramatically, “You're other wife just called to tell you she's pregnant! With triplets!”

“She's loopy that one,” Dean mumbles to your next victim, “I heard she pokes holes in condoms and goes crazy screaming you'll be the perfect happy family.”

Round 3

Dean wanders over to the guy eyeing you up. You watch as he points at you and lip read him saying, “Has a penis.”

You make eye contact over Dean's shoulder to the brunette he's charming. You lean forward, nodding your head towards Dean and announcing, “Micro-penis.”

“Okay okay enough,” Dean sulks sat at a table with you while you chuckle, “Screw the bet.”

“You really don't like the taste of your own medicine do you?” you giggle. It's getting late and the bar is slowly emptying, “It's a draw anyway so no one wins. I'll get us another drink before this place shuts.”

You head on over, noticing the old blush inducing bartender had left and swapped for an upgrade. He eyes you up and down with a sly smirk as you approach.

“What can I get you hot stuff?” he asks with a lick of his upper lip.

“One beer and hmm...I'm not sure what I want...” you pout slightly, tilting your head at the pile of cute stood before you.

“How about a....sex on the beach?” he suggests with a wink.

You continue chatting with him, causing other customers to complain at their lack of service. You feel yourself flirting but again your eyes frequently drift back to the Winchester. He's still sat at the table, watching the bartender with narrowed eyes, he hadn't spoken to any other girls since you left him there. You daydream, absorbing those olive green orbs of his you loved so much. The pouting lips just begging to be kissed. How warm and cosy it must be snuggling up with those strong arms wrapped around you.

“You listening sugar?” you hear the gruff bartender's voice interrupt your Dean fantasy.

“Oh!” you shuffle in your seat awkwardly, “Sorry I uh...I think I should go.”

You go to move but a calloused hand sticks your arm to the bar.

“But we're just getting started here,” he says with a sly smile.

“You really don't wanna do that,” you snap into hunter mode and glare him down.

“Yeah you really don't,” came Dean's voice, now stood next to you.

The bartender's eyes dot between the two of you for a moment. He sighs and lifts his hand off you.

“Whatever,” he shrugs and walks away.

In a second you feel your other arm being tugged. Dean pulls you towards the exit and you both leave. He lets go of you outside the door and starts pacing back and forth.

“Dean what the hell?” you raise your arms and look at him bewildered.

“Y/N...” he starts, still pacing and then just sighs.

“Dean what's wrong?” you grab his arm to stop him pacing.

He looks at you in the eyes, a slight frown on his face.

“Screw it,” he mumbles, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your heart leaps up to your throat and feels like it's going at a thousand beats a second. You can feel your cheeks burning and your hands slightly clench in shock. His lips are better than you imagined, soft and full and there's a slight beer taste which you find oddly pleasurable.

He lets you go and you gasp, “D-Dean...”

“I'm sorry I just... tonight was a stupid idea,” he stumbles on his words, “Seeing you flirt with all those guys drove me fucking crazy.”

“Um...” you laugh, holding your chest like it'll help your heart slow down, “That was your idea?”

“Yeah, a stupid one like I said,” he sighs. His hands are still around your waist and you can feel him pulling you close again, “I just thought you'd want someone better than me.”

“Now that's a stupid idea,” you laugh, now pulling him back and starting a kiss on your own terms.

You wrap an arm around his neck and one through his hair, pulling it lightly. He clenches your ass and moans into your mouth, sending tingles through you.

Another release and your foreheads are touching. You catch him smiling and it makes you do the same.

“Motel?” you wink.

“Hell yes,” Dean agrees, “I just hope they'll give us some new sheets at reception first.”

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