#I’m a 22 year old teenage girl

[cartoon-skeleton]

I slept in a weird position on an air mattress at my friend’s house last night and I’ve been dealing with this annoying and persistent ache in my rib all day as a consequence, and I was freaking out about it to my dad because it won’t go away with ibuprofen, and he said “oh that shit will just start happening to you once you hit your early twenties” ☹️

[serotinals]

my birthday is in approximately 2 weeks 🥸 the passage of time sure is relentless huh?? 🤠

[meowsforyujin]

tattoo artist- Leeknow

(Warnings: smut! Leeknow x reader, slight age gap, oral, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill, tattoo gun, hair pulling, mentions of pain, semi public sex, good old fashion doggy style 😛😛)

Summary: leeknow is your tattoo artist that you’ve been crushing on for a while, but he’s never made a move. So obviously, you decide to get a tattoo in a slightly scandalous spot and inevitably things get steamy

——————————————————————

You sit on the chair eagerly, holding the piece of paper in your hand. It’s been 15 minutes since you came, where is he?

“Are you nervous?” you swear you feel your whole demeanor change when you hear his voice.

You scoff, “Have I ever been nervous?”

“You were the first time.” Minho smirks playfully.

You don’t remember the first time as vividly as he does. He remembers it as if it was yesterday.

He remembers his world stopping when you walked in. You were so captivating to him. You wore a leather skirt with fishnets, and a cropped tank top that complimented your belly button piercing. Your hair was black and blonde at the time, roots grown out but still pretty. Your eyes were starry and nervous, showing the design you wanted on your left arm for the first tattoo you’d ever gotten. You were shy at first, but then opened up pretty quickly, talking his ear off. Explaining how long you had wanted a tattoo, and it was hard to narrow down the choices for your first one. He knew you’d be back after proclaiming your love and interest in tattoos, but he didn’t expect so soon. You’d come back a week later for another. It was then when you told him you were excited to start college the following week. All his possible plans on asking you out vanished with that, given that you were 18 and he was 22 at the time.

Well it’s three years later, and who knows how many times you’ve been here. Minho expected to have a fun time like usual, chatting away with you, also expecting the familiar disappointment that would follow when you left. What he DIDN’T expect was you wanting a tattoo on your chest that required your shirt to be off.

“Um, well you’d need to take your shirt off..do you want me to get a girl to do this instead?” He hoped you didn’t see how red his ears were.

“No, why would I? I trust you the most, and it’s not like I’m getting naked or anything”

Yet.

He hesitantly nods, instructing you shyly to remove your shirt. This usually wouldn’t be a problem, since Minho finds himself mature. But his attraction towards you is what stands out among the rest of the customers. And he feels guilty for it, given the age gap. You’re 21 and he’s 25, which doesn’t seem that big of a deal to most but the fact that he’s known you since you were technically a teenager amplifies his guilt.

Despite his worries, and your black lace bra, things weren’t very awkward. You both talked as usual, enjoying the time you had since it had been a while. I mean, it's been three years and they're only so many tattoos you want, so inevitably your visits have slowed down over the years. At some point in your rambling, you ask, “Have you ever had a psychotic ex girlfriend?”

He simply shakes his head. “Oh really? Not even like a jealous one?”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend.” He states as if it’s the most normal thing for a gorgeous 25 year old man to have never had a girlfriend.

“YOU WHAT?” you could not contain your shock.

He chuckles softly, “Why so surprised?” He’s still focused on his task at hand.

“Well for starters, you’re gorgeous, and also you’re kind and funny, what else would anyone want?” His laugh was breathier than he wanted it to be, and you definitely catch the pink hue dusting his cheeks.

“Maybe, but I’m also a tattoo artist who didn’t graduate college.”

“I think the tattoo artist thing is dreamy.” You pause, “And hot.”

His breath audibly hitches. “I, thank you.”

Truth is you’ve been pining after Minho for forever. You flirt with him constantly, and it obviously has an effect on him, so you assumed he had a girlfriend since he never made a move. But even so, you always secretly hoped he was single. And maybe you let your delusions get the best of you, because you scheduled the latest appointment possible, and picked your most flattering bra for him to see. Your plaid skirt was short too, knee high socks complimenting your thighs.

“Any plans or ideas for the next tattoo?” Minho asks, desperate to change the subject.

“I dunno, I’m kinda running out of ideas.”

“Damn, I’d miss my favorite customer.”

“Well, maybe we should go for coffee sometime?” He pauses his movements, obviously flustered, but also deep in thought of what his response should be.

“You know I can’t, but I’m flattered regardless.” Minho failed to hide his disappointment in his voice.

“Why, can’t date customers or what?”

He laughs a bit, “No, have you seen this place? We don’t really have rules.”

You laugh with him, “Okay so why? Am I not pretty or?”

That wasn’t very funny to him. “No, you’re breathtaking.” He knows he shouldn’t have said that, yet he doesn’t feel a single trace of regret. “It’s just, the age gap.” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Aren’t you 25?”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t help giggling at him. “Oh please Minho, I’ve been on dates with way older than you.” His eyes dart up at you. “What? How much older?”

You shrug, “Doesn’t matter, go out with me?”

He turns off the tattoo gun and sets it next to him, deep in thought.

You suddenly wrap your legs around him to bring him closer, “Please?”, you watch his eyes flutter shut as you comb his hair with your fingers. You didn’t dare make another move. You needed him to take the next step. He caught on to this quickly, given the fact that you’ve had your fingers and legs wrapped around him for what felt like forever, and have made no further effort to act on the obvious tension between the two of you. Despite your persuasion, he still felt guilty. But his judgment was clouded by your hot breath fanning his cheeks.

You nearly zone out taking in his features, but quickly brought back by Minho closing the gap between the two of you.

His lips were so soft. He kissed just like he did his tattoos, calm and precise, concentrated on doing everything the best way possible. He bites your bottom lip softly, granting himself access to push his tongue in your mouth. He tastes so sweet it was insane.

You whine softly, tugging at his shirt. Minho pulls away from you for a second, pulling off his shirt, then quickly attaching his lips once more. His lips trail down your jaw towards your neck as you whimper. You hiss when his chest accidentally comes in contact with your new (unfinished) tattoo.

He pulls away worried, “Sorry, did I hurt you?”’

You shyly shake your head, “I liked it.” He raises his eyebrows at you, “I liked the pain, feels nice.” He stares at you, his concerned expression morphing into a devilish smirk.

“Oh really?” He touches you again, groping your breast slightly, barely pressing against the tattoo but still enough to cause a pleasurable thrill.

Minho kisses you again but with much more force this time, biting your lip rather harshly, earning a deep moan from you. His hand slowly inches up your thighs teasingly, searching for the hem of your underwear. He pulls away abruptly to look at you, and then pulls your skirt up. He scoffs when he finds that you indeed were not wearing anything under your skirt.

“You’re crazy.” He laughs, shaking his head, not really trying to hide that his face was bright ass red.

“I’m crazy for you.” you pull him closer, missing his lips on yours. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Cringe.”, you look at him in disbelief, about to protest but immediately distracted by his hand reaching down to cup your heat. You feel yourself beginning to fall apart for him right then and there.

“You're so wet.” He flashes you a toothy grin while running his fingers up and down your folds. You don’t respond, too focused on the fact that his hands were finally touching you, and this wasn’t a dream.

You’d often daydream about his hands alone. You loved staring at his hands while he held that tattoo gun, veiny and big, and precise in every movement. You’d think about all the ways his hands could move precisely, and not with the tattoo gun.

Your thoughts are cut short when Minho's head is in between your legs. “Fuck.”, you whisper, the way his dough eyes are looking up at you, half for consent and half for amusement was enough to make you finish right there. Nonetheless, you power through.

Minho licks a long, slow stripe up your folds. When he meets your clit, he circles his tongue slowly over it, before going back down to tease your entrance.

The way he eats you out is heaven. He uses a kissing motion around your clit, rather than just applying pressure or sucking on it (he does that too). You whine, pushing his face impossibly closer to you, tugging at his hair begging him to keep going. Your legs shake as you feel your high approaching, Minho gets the message and speeds up his actions. Out of nowhere he pushes in a finger, pumping it in and out of you quickly. This tips you over the edge and before you know it your thighs are shaking violently, closing around his head as you cum with a silent cry, back arched in the air.

Minho cleans you up with his tongue, ignoring your whines from overstimulation. Eventually he stops and looks up at you, and fuck if it isn’t the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. His lips parted, pupils blown out, and you don’t miss your juices dripping down his chin. His lustful gaze is working you up all over again.

You pull him into another heating kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. You hand trails down to his hard on, palming him softly. He groans deeply into the kiss, playing with the clasp of your bra until it falls off your shoulders. Minho pulls from this kiss to peel the rest of your bra off, letting out a shaken exhale staring at your bare chest. It’s not long before he has his lips wrapped around your nipple and his hand around your other breast. You enjoy this for a moment, before playing with his belt until you manage to get it off.

You stand up, taking Minho by surprise. He almost thought you were leaving until you get on your knees. His breath is shaky and he watches you pulling out his member. You practically drool at the sight of it. It wasn't too long, but longer than most. And what he didn’t have in length was made up for by how fucking thick it was. You wrap your hand around it, pumping steadily.

Soon enough, you take him all in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Luckily he did not notice your impatience, too immersed in the feeling of your mouth around him. You bob your head up and down on him, alternating between swirling your tongue around his tip and sucking it. He eventually begins thrusting his hips, meeting your bobbing motions until you feel him twitch in your mouth and he pulls you off him. You can’t help but pout up at him and he just chuckles, pulling you off the ground. He kisses you briefly before bending you over the tattoo chair.

You whimper as he teases your folds, dragging his cock up and down them. You feel his tip teasing your entrance, your cunt leaking in anticipation.

“Wait,” he breaths, “Do you have a condom?”

“No? Why would I have a condom? You're the guy here.”

“Yeah well you’re the one who expected this to happen!”

“I did not!”

“You literally didn’t wear any underwear.”

“I’m on the pill.”

You hear him sigh, “Are you sure?”

“Minho just fuck me already before I ride you instead.”

Despite your affirmation, he was still hesitant. Pushing in as slowly as possible, your warm cunt enveloping him earns a somewhat high pitched moan from him.

You want to tease him, you really do, but you’re already a fucking mess and he hasn’t moved. The stretch is absolutely delicious, and he’s reaching every spot perfectly.

He begins moving steady, hands gripping your hips. You’re loud and he loves it. Your moans encouraging him to move faster, he builds up his pace. “Fuck fuck fuck! Like that please!” You babble, already feeling your consciousness slip away.

“Mmm you like it rough right? You like it when I fuck you dumb?.” you can only nod, incredibly turned on by his words.

Knock knock.

You both pause, and you feel reality coming back to you when you hear a voice from the other side of the door.

“Hey Minho, sorry to interrupt.”

Fuck. It had completely slipped your mind that yeah maybe there weren't really any other customers there but there were obviously workers. And you recognized her voice, it was Yuri, the one who always answered your calls and scheduled your appointments. God this was embarrassing.

“I’m leaving for the day, so if you could lock up when you’re uh, done, that’d be great.”

You could not be more mortified in this moment.

“Okay sounds good, thanks Yuri.” Minho yells from the other side.

You both wait until you hear the bell from the front door, indicating she had left.

“Oh my god that’s so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face further in the chair. Minho laughs in disbelief, “You wore no underwear and THAT'S embarrassing?”

all you do is whine and mumble a ‘shut up’ before he’s fucking you again without warning, this time pulling your hair. You yelp at the sting, eyes rolling back to your head.

“Thought you wanted an audience baby? Thought you wanted everyone to know I was fucking you so well?” You can’t respond, you're too close to your climax already. Minho takes note of this and picks up the pace, thrashing into you without mercy.

“Oh my god I’m so close please!” You cry, tears of pleasure spilling down your cheeks. Minho just grunts, snaking his fingers down under you to rub your clit.

You see white as you cum for the second time tonight, walls clamping down on Minho, causing him to cum shortly after you.

You both lay there for a while, catching each other's breath. You jolt up when you hear him walking away, fearing that he was going to leave, only to find him returning with a warm towel to clean you up. You’re silent as he cleans you up, just watching him with adoration.

“So,” he clears his throat, “Should we go somewhere now?”

You smile, “My place?”

He chuckles, “I was thinking dinner?”

-AHH I had sm fun writing this!! Expect a sequel bc omg I cannot stop thinking ab tattoo artist bf lee know? Like? Anywaysss pls lmk your thoughts! I’m not great at writing but I love to do it, so I’d rlly like tips on how I can improve!!

[paulic]

Ok this is what I think the biopics will be like for each Beatle:

John will be so troubled but in a really charming way and Julian will be mentioned but briefly and they’ll make it seem like John was just too busy to be a present father (Paul will make up for it in a vomit inducingly cheesy way). His eating disorder, heroin addiction and other internal struggles (self-esteem, sexuality, maybe even gender,…) will go unmentioned or brushed over jokingly like haha he tossed Brian off, don’t we all at that age. He’ll be the cool and funny older brother & later genius who just couldn’t be confined within a band. They won’t have the guts to call his bullshit and therefore will automatically brush over his kinder and vulnerable sides. He’ll be reduced to a knock off version of the tortured artist blueprint. They’ll never pick up on his pathetic wet dog vibe

Paul will be the charming good guy who’s all in with the band. No mention of how he fucked over Jane and every other girl until Linda; he’ll be a musical genius, too, but in a prince of the people sort of way. They’ll loooove that he stopped eating meat, woke king!!!! Linda will be brushed over by making her into his soulmate wifey who finally helps the charming playboy with a heart of gold settle down. His depression and alcohol problem won’t be mentioned/reduced to feeling a little sad. He’ll be a little bossy sometimes but they won’t ever get it right how fucking annoying he could be. Straighter than a ruler. John’s brother, almost biologically. No homo. They’ll find a way to make the twink who fucked the entire population and had an ego bigger than Neptune into a straight feminist

George will be the indie underground smart Beatle and people on tik tok will start posting thirst traps of the actor with the caption “they don’t make em like this anymore” and then complain about real-George’s teeth. He’ll be so spiritual and smart and he won’t have an affair with his best friend’s wife at all and if he does it’ll be because of some spiritual insight, not because that man couldn’t keep it in his pants for 5 seconds. I’m deadly afraid of the colourful drug scenes where he’ll hallucinate god. He’ll be the perfect boyfriend and Pattie will be played by Sidney sweeney or something. They won’t take a side with the whole George Or Paul debate during the breakup, but George will be too focused on other things to want to stay in the Beatles. They won’t mention the three billion songs John&Paul deemed unworthy. They’ll never do the grudges my man held justice. No one could

Ringo will be the funny guy who luckily survived his childhood and found his passion through a kind nurse giving him his drumsticks. He’ll play an incredible drum solo at 8 years old on his hospital bed frame the first time he ever holds those sticks. He won’t be in gangs, he won’t beat his wife half to death, he won’t have drugs and alcohol problems. He’ll be peace and love from age 0. He’ll be slightly stupid and he’ll mention octopuses too much. They’ll never get it right how he was truly the eldest and how much his vote and opinion actually counted within the band and how much the boys wanted him in the band and admired him. He won’t be a sort of glue to the band. He won’t marry a teenager he met when she was 16 and he 22. He’ll be a weird version of Ken from the Barbie movie, his job will be Drum. They’ll flatten a severely nuanced and layered man to a sheet of paper with the word ‘beat’ on it

I am too afraid to even think about what they will do to Eppy

Oh and each and every one of them will have way too pretty teeth and I am already furious. I want them to have British men in the 1960s teeth. Give me British teeth and jerking off together

[coco-loco-nut]

Down Bad

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

summary: a heartbreak like no other

a/n: it’s super short, sorry

masterlist ttpd masterlist

________

You should've known better. Really. You aren't the kind of girl that a hot, 29-year-old, Spanish Formula One driver would like. Of course, you are beautiful, but apparently not enough for him. His attention was fleeting, leaving you just another one of his conquests in a long string of girls like you.

You met Carlos while interning in Madrid during the Winter. At the time you didn't realize he was love-bombing you, only to drop you cold once your internship ended a month later and you went home, practically shipped away by him. For a moment you knew, or thought you knew, extraordinary love, but it wasn't real. Was anything real anymore?

“Sweetheart, you need to stop moping,” your mom says from the doorway of your bedroom. “You know I love you, but if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you are a moody teenager,” you know your mom means well, but the last bit struck hard.

“Fine, I’m going for a run,” you groan, rolling out of bed. She leaves your room, seemingly appeased. It doesn’t take you long to get dressed, lace up your trainers, and play your angsty playlist through your headphones.

You take the path you know by heart, the one you take when you need to be away from people. When you are sufficiently alone, you let it all out.

Crying and running may not be the wisest idea, but it’s cathartic to you. You stop when you get to the meadow and lay down, staring at the cloudy sky. As the music plays, you yell the lines that hit too close to home. I might just die, it would make no difference. Fuck you if I can’t have us.

Fuck. You need to get over him. Everything just feels so hollow now, like you were stripped of everything you are and ever were. You just want to talk to your friends about it, but you know them. They will call you nuts, saying that it never really happened, that Carlos Sainz would never date you.

So instead, you lay in this field, thinking about when you were heaven struck. You might just not get up, stay down while you are down bad for someone who doesn’t even care about your existence anymore.

Maybe you were abducted by an alien to another, then returned back to this spot. That could explain it. Explain why you are feeling the angst of a scorned teenage girl, when you have more emotional maturity than that. You are 22 after all.

It’s how you imagine it feels like to lose the touch of a twin flame. I guess being love bombed then abandoned would do that to you.

The more you think about it, the more the alien analogy seems to fit. It’s like he beamed down from a ship, did a hostile takeover on your heart, the alien encounters closer and closed as each day passed. And you let them happen, willingly.

It started with a hello, then coffee, then a stroll, then a lunch, then a drive, then a dinner, then a night spent together, two, three, four, it spiraled. He did everything he could to worm his way into your heart, only for him to say it’s over.

Maybe you will take the ship, go to some planet and find an alien who can understand all of it. How dare he do everything he could to make you fall in love, only to leave you stranded. How is that romantic? You were in love, and fuck him if you can’t have him because of his actions.

You stare at the sky, music pumping through your headphones, willing the sky to part and reveal the alien spaceship that will beam you up to it in a cloud of dust and take you away.

Minutes pass until you realize your efforts are worthless, you mentally wave goodbye to the ship that carries him (and his pet names and his perfect dates) with it. Shedding a few tears on your run home, you start rebuilding yourself with each step. The hurt and pain slowly being chipped away.

No man with EVER make you feel this down bad again.

[moeswriting]

mine | 1. wondering why we bother with love

pairing: young!no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary: a regular day at work turns into the beginning of something joel never thought would happen to him again.

chapter warnings: joel is 22 and reader is 20, mentions of a bad marriage and teenage pregnancy, reader is described a small amount (has hair, able-bodied, wears feminine clothing, is going to school for secondary english education, has a heavily-detailed background), joel being the single dad™, southern banter and teasing, fluff, joel being a flirt, baby sarah being her dad's favorite, if i missed anything let me know

word count: 3.6k (future chapters will be longer)

a/n: good lord, this got some attention!!! i'm so fucking grateful for it. really excited for you guys to read this. hope you like it. lemme know what you think. any reblogs and likes are appreciated <3

series masterlist | next chapter ->

read this chapter on ao3

You were in college, working part-time waiting tables

Left a small town, never looked back

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin'

Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

✦ ✦ ✦

October 1994

At seventeen-years-old, Joel Miller found out that his girlfriend was pregnant. It was startling and overbearing and horrifying and it made him want to scream at the sky, at God or whatever was up there and curse them for fucking up his life. He told Amanda that he was there for her, would do anything for her, but he was scared shitless.

At eighteen, he was holding a baby in the hospital with a ring on his left hand and thanking whatever was up there for bringing him a healthy baby girl to hold for the rest of his life. Maybe it was too soon, but as soon as he laid eyes on her, he knew. He knew he would love Sarah for the rest of his life and even beyond that. But, Amanda held her for a second and gave her back to him. He knew that she resented him– could tell by the way she fidgeted with the ring on her finger, pulling it off and then putting it back on, scowling at it when she thought he wasn’t looking. They moved into a small apartment near the college campus in Austin right before the baby was born. He could tell she hated that too. He knew he could grin and bear it, as long as Sarah got to have two parents.

At twenty, he came home from his job at the small diner across the street to their small apartment where his little girl was crying in her crib and a note sat on the counter that read, “I’m just not built to be a mother or a wife, Joel.” All of her things were gone. It was like she’d never been there at all.

That night, he held Sarah in his arms and cried. He watched her big, curious eyes as his tears ran down her face and soaked into her pink pajamas. He thinks maybe she knew what was going on– the toddler was always more ahead than he ever was. It only took a day for her to start begging for her mother, sobbing in Joel’s arms as he held her tight to his chest, hushing in her ear, trying to sing any lullaby he could think of. It took her two months to stop bringing her up at all.

By twenty-two, he’s a fully-functioning single dad. He has a stable job at the diner and does some contracting with his brother on the side. His mom helps him watch Sarah while he’s working– shows him pictures of her on her digital camera she insists on bringing with her everywhere when he gets back from work. There’s a wall in his kitchen dedicated to his favorites. He never stops thanking her for everything she does for him.

Sarah is growing beautifully. Her curly hair is a mess, but he’s trying his best to learn how to do it right. Amanda had always done it before– pigtails and braids perfectly set on her tiny head. But he finds that her thick hair is hard to tame on his own. He takes her to the salon downtown for them to do her braids whenever he can afford it. Her big brown eyes could make him do anything– she knows just how to work him with her wet, puppy dog stare and pouty lips. She’s up to his knees now. Everytime he comes home from work, she’ll run to him and crash into his calves and he can’t help but smile everytime she does it.

She’s his world, his everything.

It’s a Sunday morning. He always works Sunday mornings because the church crowd always tips well and today is no different. Sweat is dripping down his back from running around, and his brain feels like it’s split in half with all the orders stuffed in his head. The diner’s small enough that he’s only one of two servers working, despite how ridiculously busy it is, but he doesn’t mind. He can’t mind, really.

“Donald! Where’s my pancakes?”

The owner of the establishment’s balding head peaks out of the kitchen, as he yells back at him, “In your ass, Miller!”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, pushing an order sheet back into the kitchen for Donald to grab, “Hurry it up, please. Mr. Cassini is starting to get hangry again.”

Donald laughs boisterously, “Oh, that old man is always angry!”

Joel waves him off, “Just do it, Don.”

“No problem, kid!”

He turns around and there’s a new patron sitting at one of his tables. A woman, body guarded, eyes on alert, evaluating the diner for the closest exits. You look scared, but only in the way that prey does when it knows it’s safe– waiting for the next predator to flash its teeth at your trembling form. Your hair is wet, as well as the tops of your shoulders, which are tucked into a large hoodie that swallows you. He didn’t realize it was raining. Your sneaker-clad feet are tucked under your legs, criss-cross-applesauce on the soft leather of the booth beneath you.

You’re beautiful.

Tapping his pencil against his order pad, he approaches you carefully. You look like you’ll run for the hills if he takes you by surprise. But, his tapping seems to alert you of his presence, as your head turns towards him. You watch him with a discerning look and fold your hands on your lap.

He pulls out the Southern charm his momma taught him, smile and all, hoping it might ease your cautiousness, “Hello, ma’am. Can I get you something to drink?”

You look surprised– eyebrows raised and eyes wide, like you didn’t expect him to talk. It’s odd, he thinks.

“Oh– uh–” you look down to the menu he placed in front of you upon his approach– “Iced tea?”

Just from your voice alone– and piled onto the fact that he knows everyone around here, and he’s damn sure he’s never seen a woman as pretty as you before– he knows you aren’t from around here. He has the sudden and all-consuming need to know everything about you. Why are you here? Who the hell are you?

“You need a lemon with that, sweetheart?” He can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Oh, no, no. Sugar is good enough for me.” As if to prove your point, you pull a couple packets of Sweet ‘N Low out of the small container at the end of the table and toss them next to the menu splayed out in front of you.

“Alright, darlin’. One iced tea comin’ up.” He pulls out a wink for you and walks away. He isn’t prepared to see the aftermath of his overconfidence. He really hopes you don’t run.

And he finds that you haven’t when he comes back with your iced tea in his hand. He places it down in front of you with a, Here you go, hon, and asks if you want anything to eat, and you decline. He rushes to get to his other customers. Tips are more important than the beautiful woman, he has to tell himself, but he finds that his eyes drift to you as you dump three pink packets of the sweetener into your tea and swirl it around. He shakes his head in amusement when you pull a book out of the backpack sitting next to you and start to read.

✦ ✦ ✦

When he comes back to check on you again, you’ve downed your glass of tea and you’re squinting your eyes as you write on the page of the book in front of you, underlining a passage you determine is worthy of note, not once, not twice, but three times. He thinks he sees the words ‘idealized love’ as he pours more tea from the pitcher he brought with him into your plastic cup.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Your eyes don’t even leave the page, pencil doesn’t cease writing as you reply, “The Great Gatsby.”

“Huh. Read that in high school. Kinda sad, ain’t it?”

You place your pencil down in the crease of your paperback, still reading, “I suppose so.”

It’s gone quiet in the diner now that the Church crowd has left, the sound of the jukebox in the corner the only background noise remaining. Only people here now are you and Mr. Cassini, but he’s preoccupied with Doreen, the other waitress on duty today. They’re flirting in the way that old people do, with shy smiles and boisterous laughter. He thinks he can take a quick break.

He sits down on the booth across from you and you look up at him for the first time since he came back to fill your tea.

“What’re you doing,” you ask– not in anger or annoyance, but just genuine confusion.

“Sittin’. This book for pleasure or school?”

You seem to accept his presence here with you as your new, temporary situation and put your bookmark– a pressed leaf– back in your book and close it shut. “School.”

He hums, disappointment dripping down his back, “You in high school then?”

Your eyebrows furrow before you seem to realize where he is drawing his conclusion from, “Oh! No, no. I’m studying to be an English teacher. We’re supposed to read this and come up with a fake lesson plan.”

Relief replaces the disappointment just as quickly as it had come.

“Huh. Interesting.”

You shrug, “I’d like to think so.”

He shuffles in his seat, pressing the cold leather against his sweltering back. “So, what– you gonna be a high school teacher?”

“I’m trying to. It’s hard work.” You pull out a few more packets of sweetener and pour them into your new cup of tea. He tries his best not to smile, but he can feel the corners of his lips pulling at his skin.

“Hard work is good for the soul– shows you got guts. That’s what my momma always says, anyways.”

You grin, “She sounds real smart, your mamma.” He hears you emulating his accent, teasing him for being so incredibly cliché, but he’s so focused on your blinding smile that he can’t even fight back.

“She is. She’s the best I could ask for.”

“Good. Everyone deserves a good mom,” you say, your smile almost turns sad as you say it. He wants to grab your face and beg you to tell him why what you said makes you sad, where’s your good mom that you deserve?

“Joel Miller, what are you doin’, sittin’ down? Get your ass up and clean some tables,” Donald yells from across the diner. Joel doesn’t even flinch– used to his sour attitude from almost four years of working here. But he watches you flinch, eyes going wide. You look warily over to Donald, assessing the situation, before you look back over to him.

You clear your throat, “It seems like you need to be getting to work, Joel Miller.”

You're teasing him again, but he can tell you’re nervous. He smiles, trying to calm your nerves as much as he can, and he thinks it works as he watches your shoulders relax slightly.

He chuckles, muttering to you conspiratorially, “Bitter old man, can’t see I’m trying to get myself a date over here.”

Your eyes flick down to your book and back up to him. Biting your lip, trying to suppress the smile he can see taking over your face, you reply, “Get back to work.”

“Alright, alright, sugar. I’m going,” he concedes, hands flying up in surrender.

The grin finally takes over your lips again and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful– besides his own baby girl’s smile. 

A name falls from your upturned lips.

“Huh?”

You laugh, opening your book back up and pulling yourself back into the story, “My name, Joel Miller.”

He repeats it back to you. It tastes like honey and sweetener on his tongue.

He wonders what you would taste like on his tongue.

“I’m getting off in 30 minutes.” An invitation.

You look back up at him. “Well, then, I guess I got another thirty minutes to read before you’re bothering me again.” You accept.

“I suppose you do.” He turns back to the counter and walks away. He can feel the pull to go back to you, to indulge himself in you further, but he needs the money and the extra $3 for the next thirty minutes could be the difference between his baby girl getting a full meal or not, and Donald has a nasty habit of not paying the full amount if he ain’t working, so he picks up a rag and gets back to work.

✦ ✦ ✦

Thirty minutes later, he’s pulling off his apron and bounding out of the backroom towards the table you’ve made a home of. He finds that you’ve packed up your things into your lavender bookbag, like you’re ready for whatever he throws at you– to go wherever he’s going to take you.

He wastes no time; he doesn’t want to be here anymore. “You wanna go on a walk?”

You nod your head eagerly. It seems you’re in agreement.

The pavement is a dark gray beneath your purple sneakers and his steel-toed boots, a pair his momma gave him for his 18th birthday. They’re good for work– sturdy, not too sweaty or uncomfortable. He wears them everyday. He wonders if you like cowboy boots, hopes you don’t find them tacky.

It’s still light out, around six in the afternoon. It stopped raining an hour ago, but the humidity still lies heavy in the air as the two of you make your way outside. It’s hot, but only in the way that Texas is in the middle of October. It’s comforting, like laying in front of a fire on a cold day.

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. He wants to take your hand, can feel his fingers twitching with the exertion of forcing himself to stop. You don’t even know him– he doesn’t want to scare you off yet.

You look to him for directions and he tilts his head forward and down the street, starting your walk at a slow, but steady, pace.

Austin is busy this time of year, what with all the college students a month or so into their return for the fall semester. The bars they pass are full of drunk students on  full-weekend benders and loud music. Stupid decisions and disco lighting. Sometimes he’s glad he was able to avoid all that. Sometimes he misses having the option of making mistakes.

He clears his throat, “Where you from, darlin’?”

You smile, kicking a rock with the edge of your sneaker, “Oh, is it that obvious that I’m not a Texas girl?”

If the lack of the local accent and not recognizing you wasn’t enough, the way you held yourself would be the obvious give away to him– nervous, on-guard. He finds that people around here aren’t scared of being too loud or in the way of anyone or anything. It was plain to him that you couldn’t stand the idea of getting in anyone’s way.

“Kinda,” he chuckles.

You hesitate, looking away from him and to the uneven sidewalk below you both, like you’re trying to decide if you should lie to him or not.

“Seattle.”

That takes him by surprise, but he hopes it doesn’t show too much. What in the hell were you doing all the way down here?

So many questions left unanswered in the aftermath of you.

“Woah– long way from home, aren’t we?”

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah— yeah, I am.”

Home, family seem to be sore topics for you. He makes a note to avoid it.

“Never been to Seattle. In fact, I’ve never left Texas.”

Your eyebrows lift. “Really? Washington’s beautiful.”

“Lotsa rain, I hear.”

You let out a breath of amusement, “You hear correctly. It's one of the only things I miss about it. Texas isn’t exactly known for its rain.”

He snorts, “No, it ain’t. But, you got yourself some today. Bet that was nice.”

You nod. It’s a few moments of comfortable silence before you speak again.

“You from around here?”

He nods once, pushing his hands even further into his pockets in embarrassment, “Lived in Austin my whole life.”

“Joel Miller, you’ve gotta get out of Texas,” you laugh.

You’re beautiful when you laugh. Your smile lights up your whole face like the sun as you throw your head back towards the dreary sky, eyes crinkled by the pull of your cheeks.

He sighs lightly, “Yeah, ‘spose I do.”

You seem to realize something as you do a quick scan of your surroundings before you look back at him with narrowed eyes and a playful smirk.

“Miller, where are we going,” you draw out.

“Nowhere,” he mimics your drawn out syllables, “Just walkin’.”

You hum, “Hm, and I don’t suppose that nowhere is in the general direction of my college campus and that you may be ‘just walkin’ ‘ me to my dorm like the Southern gentleman you are?”

He chuckles, bashfully scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe.”

You pause, look him up and down, and then sigh, “Thank you, Joel.”

“It’s no problem, sugar.”

He lets you take the lead now that you’re approaching the campus, slowing his steps so he could keep up with you. You scrunch your eyebrows at the ground below you and pucker your lips, opening your mouth and then closing it again. When Sarah does that, he calls her ‘fishy’. He desperately wants to tell you about her, but he finds himself once again fighting the urge so he doesn’t scare you off. Not yet, he tells himself.

You look up at him again, eyes wide and biting your bottom lip, “Why do you keep calling me that?”

He’s staring. He knows he’s staring at your mouth, but he can’t help it. They’re like a siren song he can’t resist. He can’t think straight when you’re next to him. 

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch, “What?”

“‘Sugar’. Why do you keep calling me that?” You glance over at him, but quickly look back at the ground when you catch him staring at you. He can tell you’re flustered.

“Oh, well, I watched you pour three packets of sweetener in your tea like a maniac. So, I figured that was an appropriate nickname.”

You scoff, throwing your hands up in the air, a grin growing on your face, “Hey, that is a very appropriate amount of sweetener, thank you very much! I thought you Southerners adored your sweet tea.”

“Darlin’, if all us ‘Southerners’ drank three packets of sweetener with our iced tea, we would all be dying at a very young age.”

“Well then, I’ll die a very sugar-high and happy, young woman.”

He laughs– one of those real laughs that only his family can bring out of him. He can’t remember the last time he laughed like this in public.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna die young, sugar, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea that I do what I was about to do.”

You stop in front of the tall brick building in front of you, clicking your heels together, and playfully furrow your eyebrows again. You’ve reached your destination. This is goodbye. He doesn’t want it to be.

“And what were you about to do, Joel Miller?”

“Ask you on a date,” he smiles and you smirk, “But… if you’re planning on an early demise, darlin’, I don’t wanna get my heart broken.”

“And if I promised to cut back?” You’re approaching him quietly– two feet turning into almost chest-to-chest in a few agonizing seconds.

“Then, I’ll have to take you out to make sure you keep your promise– now, won’t I?”

He watches from the corner of his eye as you pull a piece of paper out of your hoodie pocket and stuff it in his own. The soft, fleeting feeling of your hand brushing his makes a shiver run down his spine. Your hand quickly retreats.

You look up at him with mischief in your eyes, “I guess you will.”

Before he can even blink or think or process, you're kissing his cheek with a tenderness he hasn’t felt in years– eyes closed and big grin plastered on your face. He knows he’s blushing; the heat is crawling up his face ruthlessly.

You pull away and start to walk toward your building. He lifts a hand to his face in hopes that you left something there, evidence that you were real, evidence that what just happened wasn’t a figment of his imagination. But all he can feel is his own stubble. He hopes it didn’t hurt your lips. Maybe he should shave when he gets home.

“Call me, Joel Miller,” you shout over your shoulder, grinning brightly.

“How,” he shouts back.

“Look in your pocket!” You point to your own in emphasis.

His eyebrows pull together as he pulls the paper out of his pocket and reads it. Ten digits sitting pretty in red at the top with your name sitting on the bottom, a heart colored in with purple highlighter drawn next to it.

He goes to tell you thank you, or declare something he’s not even sure of himself, but when he looks back up to the doors of your building, you’re gone. The only evidence that you were ever real sits in his hands like a promise.

He rushes home before his mom starts to worry about where he went. He can’t wait to tell her all about you.

series masterlist | masterlist of all masterlists 🌼 | eras masterlist 🌻

[eve-was-framed]

just wanted to take some time to say rest in peace to Christina Grimmie, who would have been turning 30 years old today. she’s someone who I’m sure many of you remember. I really looked up to her and so did so many other young women and girls at the time. she was an extremely talented singer who got big on YouTube as a teenager and she even made it onto the The Voice. she was murdered at age 22 by her stalker at a meet and greet in Orlando on June 10th, 2016 just a few miles away from where the Pulse Nightclub shooting took place two days later.

[dianawinchester03]

Senior Prom

Series Masterlist

Summary: Going to prom has always been an everlasting dream of y/n, and she’d be damned if her father didn’t let her go. Willing to do anything to get one last taste of a somewhat-normal high-school life.

(Y/N and Sam are 18 years old and Dean is 22 years old)

BASED ON:

The Old Testament Series.

Genesis Primis: A Supernatural Rewrite (Dean Winchester x Reader) by @dianawinchester03

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Authors Note: Since ‘Senior Prom with Sammy’ won the poll I did. I decided to post it since I’m still yet to update Genesis. A lil sum sum to ease our minds lol. I hope everyone likes! I’ve had it in my drafts for a while, it’s been waiting to see the light of day so here you go❤️

👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓

Lake Preston, South Dakota

•2001

“Please, Dad! It's just prom, what harm could it cause?!” Y/N exclaimed frustrated. “Y/N/N, it's not just 'prom'. It's a school event, full of teenagers who are more interested in hooking up than anything else.” F/N grunted, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Mr. L/N, we promise we won't do anything stupid. We just want to have a good time with our friends.” Sam pleaded. “I understand that, son. But your safety is my top priority. You two know the rules.” F/N shook his head and an idea popped into y/n mind.

“Let Dean chaperone then. Please dad, I’ve never asked you for anything. I know I yell and I’m not perfect but this is the last night we have. Since I came out of juvie, this is all I’ve been looking forward to. Please” Y/N tried to reason with him.

F/N took another drag on his cigarette, his expression softening slightly as he looked at Y/N. He could see the pleading desperation in her eyes, the genuine desire to experience something normal for once. He glanced over at Sam, who was standing beside Y/N, a hopeful expression mirrored on his face.

"No, end of discussion" he snapped, his voice stern. Sam’s head hung in defeat, “Yes sir” He sighed before strolling out of the room, moping while Y/N stood with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at her father.

“You’re kidding me right?!” Y/N gritted her teeth, her heart aching after seeing the look of defeat on her best friends face. F/N dropped the stern look after Sam left the room, turning his daughter. He rolled his eyes, knowing his daughter was about to let one rip on him, but he had another plan in mind. “Don’t get snippy with me missy. Here” he stuck his cigarette between his lips, holding it in place before fishing his fraud credit card out of his wallet and handing it to his little girl.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as her father handed her the fake credit card. She looked at him with skeptical question. "Your credit card...?" she echoed, her voice trailing off. F/N chuckled, taking the cigarette from his lips and flicking some ash into the nearby ashtray.

"That's right. You'll need money for a dress, shoes, and whatever other girly crap you're gonna need. And buy a suit for Sasquatch too, but don’t tell him until after" he explained. Y/N squealed with excitement, she thought she would’ve had to sneak out and go. Her heart swelled with joy as she grappled her father into a firm hug.

F/N chuckled as Y/N tackled him into a tight hug. He patted her back affectionately, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, daddy. Thank you, thank you!” Y/N squealed. "Yeah, yeah, I love you too" he muttered gruffly, but the warmth in his voice showed he was secretly pleased with her reaction.

As F/N watched Y/N race out of the living room, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hall, he couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew that he and John could be tough on the kids, but deep down, he wanted them to have the best in life, even if that meant breaking some rules.

As if on cue, John appeared in the doorway, his expression quizzical. "What was all that racket about?" he asked, his voice gruff. F/N took a drag on his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke before replying. "Y/N and Sam want to go to their prom. She begged and pleaded until I caved" he explained.

John's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "You let them go?" he asked, his voice tight with disapproval. “You don’t get snippy with me either, Winchester” F/N snapped, mimicking John’s expression, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray. “I didn’t like the idea either but you know how y/n/n is. She would’ve sneaked out and gone either way and Sam would’ve followed her. This way, we know they’re safe” F/N grunted.

John clearly didn’t agree, rolling his eyes at his best friend's habit to cave when it comes to his daughter. John ran a hand over his face, his expression tight with frustration. "I know she's tenacious, but you can’t just give in whenever she throws a fit" he protested.

"You think I don’t know that?" F/N snapped back, his voice rising with irritation. "But what was I supposed to do? She's never asked me for anything. Ever." John sighed heavily, clearly still not pleased with the situation. "They’ll need someone to keep an eye on them. Just in case."

“She suggested Dean chaperone. I gave her my card to buy clothes her and Sam, no doubt she’ll buy something for Dean too” F/N explained, a sly smile played on his face for a second, knowing his daughter is probably gonna give Dean hell to chaperone. The elder Winchester would cave to Y/N’s demands too, it made him chuckle a bit.

“They’re kids, John. They deserve a break” F/N sighed. John's expression softened a bit as F/N explained the situation. He knew all too well how persistent Y/N could be when she wanted something.

"She's gonna drive Dean up the wall if he agrees to chaperone," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He’s gonna agree” F/N assured John with a snort. “They do deserve a break," John conceded reluctantly, "but they’re also hunters, and hunters need to be alert and vigilant at all times. A high school dance is a risky environment."

“The worst that’s gonna happen is someone spiking the punch bowl” F/N scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal. “And they’re not stupid enough to drink it” He added. John shot his best friend a skeptical look, clearly not convinced.

"You're underestimating the chaos that high school dances can bring" John listed off. "Not to mention the hormonal teenagers, the peer pressure, and the drama." F/N rolled his eyes, "You worry too much."

“Clearly not, because she literally just got out of juvie a couple of months ago for beating a girl's ass” John retorted. John’s blunt reminder about Y/N’s recent stint in juvie sent a pang of guilt through F/N’s chest. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I know, that’s why I’m a little hesitant about this whole prom thing" he admitted. "She’s got a temper but Dean’s gonna be there. it’s gonna be fine” F/N assured him. “Famous last words” John muttered, causing F/N to roll his eyes as John sank into the couch across from him. “Besides the point, I think I’ve got a hunt.”

F/N perked up at John's words, the mention of a hunt immediately grabbing his attention. "What kind of hunt?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

____________________________________________

A couple of days later, Y/N and Dean stood in a clothing store, surrounded by racks of colorful outfits. Y/N had her fingers on her chin, studying the various dresses on display, while Dean leaned against a nearby wall, a disinterested expression plastered on his face.

"Dude, c’mon, just pick something already," he groaned. “If you complain one more time, I WILL make you wear a pink bow tie” She threatened with a firm finger. Dean shot Y/N a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow at her threat. "You wouldn't dare" he challenged, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Try me, Winchester” She retorted, placing her hands on her hips. “I’ll even top it off with a pink bow on your head” She smirked, turning back to the rack. Y/N ruffled through the racks until her eye landed on a sweetheart black ruffled long dress with a slit going up to the mid right thigh.

‘This is it. This is the one’ She said in her head, smiling widely.

Y/N took it off the rack before turning to Dean, showing it to him. Dean's eyes widened as he looked at the dress Y/N held up. It was undeniably beautiful, but it was also... girly as hell. "You want to wear that?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“It’s hot, I’m gonna go try it on” She rolled her eyes before rushing over to the changing room. Dean stood there, watching Y/N disappear into the changing room with a mix of amusement and resignation. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Of course she's gonna choose something 'hot'. Why did I even bother agreeing to come with her?" he muttered to himself.

-

Soon after, Y/N emerged from the dressing room in the dress. Dean was now sitting in-front of the room on the couch, reading a magazine. Dean heard the curtains of the changing room being pulled open and looked up, expecting to see Y/N looking somewhat normal. But when he saw her, his jaw dropped.

The dress hugged her curves in all the right places, the sweetheart neckline revealing a subtle hint of cleavage. The black fabric accentuated her skin, and the ruffles gave the dress a subtle feminine touch.

"Whoa..." he muttered, his eyes widened in surprise. “Say it, I look hot” Y/N smirked triumphantly, placing her hands on her hips.

Dean cleared his throat, attempting to look unaffected by her appearance. “Meh, I’ve seen better” he shrugged, looking back down at his magazine.

A coat rack went flying at his head, the culprit with a glare shooting his way. Y/N stood with her arms crossed.

“Say it” she repeated, her voice firm.

“Fine, you look hot” Dean grumbled, looking back up at her.

Y/N’s face broke out into a victorious grin, knowing she had coaxed a compliment out of him.

“Jesus, if I knew just throwing a coat rack at you would get me a compliment, I would’ve done it years ago” She snorted, reaching to unzip the dress but was unsuccessful. “Help me outta this dress, we’ll go get my shoes after and then we’ll shop for yours and Sam’s clothes” She mumbled, reaching behind to unzip but failing.

Dean rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling slightly at her comment. He put the magazine down and pushed himself off the couch.

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say" he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He walked over to Y/N and unzipped the dress with ease, his hands brushing against her exposed skin as he did so.

A blush rose to y/n face as her breath hitched, a simple touch from Dean had her heated already. But she quickly schooled the act and went back into the dressing room. Stripping out of her clothes, changing back into her usual wear and making her way back of Dean.

-

“Ready, charming?” She asked after paying for the dress. Dean chuckled at her sarcastic nickname for him, but nodded. "Sure, princess" he said with a mock bow. "Lead the way." Y/N threw her head back laughing at his mock bow, leading the way out of the store.

-

Now in the gentleman’s store, Y/N shoved the outfit into Dean's hands, a black bow tie and three piece suit. Pushing him into the dressing room to try it on. Dean walked into the changing room, holding the suit and bowtie in his hands. He took in a deep breath as he looked down at the bowtie, silently cursing himself for agreeing to go shopping with Y/N.

After a few moments, he re-emerged from the dressing room, looking less than pleased with what he was wearing. The suit fit him perfectly, hugging his toned frame in all the right places. But the bowtie around his neck looked ridiculously out of place.

Y/N laughed at the way the bow tie hung, getting up from her chair to help him fix it. “Jesus dude, I’ve shown you how to do this like a million times” She chuckled, fixing the bow tie.

"I know, I know" Dean grumbled, rolling his eyes as Y/N fussed over the bowtie. He watched her with feigned annoyance, but secretly he enjoyed a moment when she was so close to him. Feeling the heat of her body against his, the scent of her perfume.

"You know, you're enjoying this too much," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “You know I always had a thing for playing dress up” She said snidely before taking her hands off his tie. “Okay, now to Sammy’s outfit” She clapped excitedly

Dean chuckled at her comment, shaking his head. "Of course you do."

-

The pair headed to the next department, where they found a selection of suits for men. Y/N immediately started rifling through the racks with excitement, her eyes scanning for something Sam would like.

“Maybe we should get him something to match your three piece suit?” Y/N suggested, rubbing her chin as she thought deeply. "Matching outfits?" Dean grunted, looking down at his own suit. "What am I, a groomsman or something?"

He leaned against a nearby rack as he watched Y/N peruse the selection of suits. She was clearly in her element here, and he couldn’t help but smile at the look of concentration on her face, her brows furrowed in that way she did when focused.

“Shut up, I’m thinking” She muttered, before scanning the room before her eyes landed on a white three piece suit. It was similar to Deans, except the outter layer was white and the inner piece was black, with a white bowtie. Deans suit being a black outer layer, inner white layer and a black bow tie. It was the perfect match for her black dress and Deans black suit. Seeing as Sam was practically her prom date. It would make sense to match.

Dean followed her line of sight and saw the suit she had her eyes on. It was simple yet elegant, just like Y/N. He had to admit, the idea of him and Sam being matching in their suits was growing on him.

"Looks like you’ve found what you’re looking for" he teased, pushing himself off the rack and walking over to where she stood.

Y/N squealed again before rushing over to the store attendant. “Hi, I’d like to get that suit” She pointed to the suit. “In the largest size please” The store attendant nodded with a small smile. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll go fetch it for you.”

The attendant disappeared into the back room, leaving Y/N and Dean alone again. Dean glanced over at Y/N, amused at her excitement. "You're awfully chipper about all of this" he commented, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I’ve dreamed about prom for years and it’s finally happening. Of course I’m excited” Y/N gushed. “And I’m happy you fellas are coming with me” She added, nudging Dean a bit. Her eyes flickered over to the cash register counter, the store sold an array of corsages and boutonnières.

She strolled over, her eyes landing on a white corsage and a black boutonnière along with a white one. Dean chuckled at her answer, unable to resist the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Her excitement was contagious.

"Well, we wouldn’t want to miss out on your special night" he teased, watching as she made her way over to the counter. His eyes followed her to the corsages and boutonnières, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“What do you think?” Y/N held up the two boutonnières and corsage. “One for you, one for Sammy and one for me” she smiled. “Since he doesn’t know still and we’re surprising him, I can ask him to prom with this” She waved the black boutonnière.

Dean looked at the two boutonnières and corsage in her hands, admiring the simplicity and elegance of the black and white combination. A warm feeling filled him as he realized the significance Y/N placed on this.

“It’s a good idea” he admitted, nodding. “Sam will probably get a kick out of the whole surprise thing. He’ll think it’s cute.”

-

Y/N hummed happily as they walked back into the house. She was carrying the small bag that contained the boutonnière and corsage while Dean was loaded up with the bags with her dress, shoes along with him and Sam’s outfits.

John and F/N had already left for their hunt, leaving a little note on the counter about their absence. Basically saying Dean was in charge and to make sure to be home by 11 on prom night, since the hunt would most likely go until after prom.

Bobby, John and F/N had a bit of a falling out. And by bit, I mean Bobby pointed a gun at them for disappearing without any notice for months after Y/N came out from juvie, leaving their kids by him worried they were dead. Bobby didn’t have an issue with the kids staying but the fact that their dads didn’t say a word for months, it riled him up just a tad.

So they’re staying at F/N’s Lake Preston’s house, a little over half hour drive from the school.

Dean stood there, looking comical with the number of bags in his hands. The suit bags were slung over his shoulders, each one weighing him down. The shoes, accessories, and other miscellaneous items for Y/N, Sam, and himself were balanced in his arms, making it difficult for him to see past the mountain of clothes.

"Why the hell did I agree to carry all this crap?" he grumbled, adjusting his grip on the bags awkwardly. “Because you can’t say no to me” Y/N grinned, taking the suit bags slung on his shoulder from him after resting down the flowers.

Dean rolled his eyes, secretly enjoying the little grin that spread across her face. He grunted as some of the weight left his arms, and he shot Y/N a mock glare.

"Yeah, something like that" he chuckled. Y/N reached into the small bag, picking up the black boutonnière she got Sam as Dean rested the rest bags on the living room couch, next to the suits. He followed behind her as she led the way to the staircase.

Y/N knocked on the door to the room Dean and Sam shared. “Sammy, you in there?”

A few moments later, the door opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Sam. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and it looked as though he had just woken up from a nap.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here" Sam yawned, rubbing his eyes as he looked at Y/N and Dean with bleary eyes. "What's up?"

Y/N held up the black boutonnière with a wide smile, “Samuel William Winchester, would you do me the honor of going to prom with me?” She said dramatically, placing the back of her hand over her forehead like a southern belle.

Sam's eyes went wide at the fact that she convinced their dads to let them go and Dean stood with his arms crossed next to her, leaning on the door frame as he watched the whole theatric, snickering.

Sam was caught completely off guard by Y/N's proposition. He looked at her, his brain still trying to catch up with the situation, and glanced over at Dean, who was enjoying the whole thing way too much.

"Um, I—“ Sam stuttered, still trying to process the fact that Y/N had managed to get both their dads' permission to go to prom. "Are you serious right now?" he asked, his voice a mixture of disbelief and excitement.

“After you left, dad gave me his card and suggested I surprise you” She explained, handing him the boutonnière. “So is that a yes or so I have to get down on one knee?” She teased her best friend.

Sam chuckled, taking the boutonnière and inspecting it in his hands. It was simple yet elegant, just like her style. He looked down at Y/N and smiled, "You're insane" He snorted.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Of course it's a yes, you crackhead. Did you really think I'd say no to free food and a chance to get all dressed up?" Y/N squealed again, clapping her hands as she jumped up and down, making Dean stick his fingers in his ears while grimacing.

"Jesus Christ" Dean muttered as Y/N squealed, glaring at her with exaggerated annoyance while plugging his ears. "My eardrums are gonna explode if you keep doing that" He grumbled, pulling his fingers out of his ears.

Sam chuckled at his brother's reaction. He couldn't help but find it amusing how both Y/N and Dean had drastically different reactions to her excitement. “I will do it again if you keep complaining, asshat” She threatened.

____________________________________________

It was finally the day of the prom and the house had exploded with chaos. The sound of hairdryers, laughter, and the occasional argument filled the air as the two teenagers and Dean got ready for the night.

Y/N had taken over the bathroom, claiming it for herself while the boys got ready in their room. She had already put on a sleek black dress, which hugged her body at all the right places, making her look like a princess. She was now standing in front of the mirror, applying the final touches to her lipstick.

She smiled content at the way she looked, a slight pit was in her stomach, missing her dad for not being here to see her dressed up for prom.

Y/N took a deep breath as she stood there, taking in her reflection. She looked beautiful, confident, and happy. Despite the absence of her dad, she was filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness for the night ahead.

Just then, there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Hey, any princesses in there?" Dean's voice sounded from the other side, a hint of playful mockery in his tone. “Just one” Y/N joked, opening the door.

Dean stood there, his eyes widened slightly as he saw her standing in front of him. The black dress she wore hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating all of her curves in the most sinful way. He had to admit, she looked breathtaking.

"Damn" he muttered, his eyes raking up and down her body. “Told you I look hot” She smiled widely, moving over to the sink to get his white boutonnière. Her gaze flickered over to his bow tie which was surprisingly fixed properly, “Sam helped you with it, didn’t he?” She snickered, gesturing to the bow tie while pinning the boutonnière to his pocket.

Dean's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink when she mentioned the bowtie. He looked down at the flower pinned to his tux and nodded, "Yeah, he did. Damn nerd insisted it was crooked" he grumbled.

He couldn't help but notice the way Y/N's dress dipped down, revealing a hint of cleavage. He forced his eyes to stay focused on her face, trying to keep his thoughts in check.

“I’m sure it was” She chuckled, still making sure to fix the bow tie. “You don’t look to bad yourself, handsome” She breathed out, taking in Dean’s attire she articulately picked out herself.

Dean smirked at her compliment, his ego swelling a bit at her words. He shifted on his feet, enjoying the way her eyes roamed over his body, taking in his appearance.

"Yeah, you've got taste" he quipped, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a cocky grin. "I do look pretty damn good, don't I? That's a rhetorical question by the way, cause the answer is obviously yes"

That earned him a smack to his arm, “Don’t ruin my compliment with sass, boy” Dean chuckled, the smirk still tugging on his lips as she smacked his arm. He raised his hands in surrender, feigning innocence. "Hey, hey I'm just stating facts, princess" he said, his voice oozing with confidence.

He took a step closer to her, his gaze roaming over her body once more. "But I do have to say, you look absolutely stunning" he added, his voice dropping an octave. “Thank you” Her cheeks flushed before clearing her throat. “Is Sammy ready?” She asked, walking past Dean and out of the bathroom.

Dean followed behind her, his eyes lingering on her figure for a moment before he answered her question. "Yeah, he's been ready for ages. I told him not to be late" he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice as they made their way to the living room.

As if on cue, Sam emerged from the stairs, dressed in his white suit and black boutonniere pinned on his lapel. He looked nervous, his eyes darting between Y/N and Dean. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re gonna throw up” Y/N asked him concerned.

Sam chuckled nervously, running his fingers through his hair. "It's nothing, I just... I haven't been to a school dance before, that's all" he admitted, looking down at his shoes.

Dean rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've hunted wendigos and ghosts but you're nervous about a bunch of teenagers in a gym? Get a grip, Sammy" he teased, unable to resist getting a dig in.

Y/N chuckled before taking her best friends hand into hers, “It’s gonna be fine man. If I’m being honest, so am I. But we’ve been through worse” She reassured him. “Besides, you look great! I’m sure that Cindy Wu gal you’ve been crushing on is gonna wanna dance with you” She teased while complimenting him.

Sam's cheeks turned pink at the mention of Cindy Wu. He had harbored a secret crush on her for ages, but he hadn't had the courage to talk to her. The thought of dancing with her, especially in this setting, made his heart race.

"Shut up" he muttered, shoving Y/N playfully in the shoulder. "And stop talking like you're in one of those teen movies" he added with a smirk.

“First of all, you fellas love those movies” She said snippy, “And second of all, if I were in a teen movie. I’d be the damn heart throb, now it’s picture time. Chop chop.” Sam laughed as Y/N spoke, clearly amused by her confident and sassy attitude.

Dean shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Alright, alright" he said, holding up his palms in mock surrender. "We'll take the damn prom pictures."

He went over to the bookshelf in the living room and grabbed a small camera. He turned back to Y/N and Sam, gesturing for them to pose.

Sam and Y/N posed, Y/N wrapping her arm around Sam’s waist and Sam’s arm residing on her shoulder. "Smile for the camera" Dean said in a mock cheesy voice, pointing the camera at the two young adults.

Sam looked a bit awkward while Y/N flashed her brightest smile, sticking her tongue out slightly. Dean chuckled at their expressions, his finger hovering over the shutter release. "Ready?"

“Just take the damn picture!” Sam and Y/N exclaimed in unison. Dean chuckled to himself, finding their synchronized response hilarious. "Alright, alright" he said, still holding the camera. "On three, act cool"

He counted down in reverse, "3...2...1..."

He snapped the picture, capturing their goofy expressions perfectly. “Okay, now Sammy, hop on y/n/n back” Dean smirked.

Sam shot Dean a confused look, raising an eyebrow at his sibling's request. "What? Why do I have to hop on Y/N's back?" he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

Y/N, on the other hand, looked excited at the prospect. "Oh, come on, Sam! It'll be fun!" she encouraged, already turning her back towards him, signaling for him to hop on.

Sam just shrugged shrugged and went along with it. He stood behind Y/N as she bent down slightly so he could hop onto her back.

"You better not drop me" he warned her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders for stability. “Listen dipshit, it’s not my fault your Sasquatch ass is heavy now just hop on”

Sam rolled his eyes at her remark, knowing she was just trying to annoy him. He let out a exaggerated sigh as if he was going through an ordeal. "Fine" he said, feigning annoyance as he hopped onto her back.

Y/N let out a slight grunt as she straightened up, adjusting herself to balance his weight. "You're like a baby gorilla" she joked, holding onto his legs to keep him from slipping. Dean was in hysterics at this, holding up the camera.

He couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably at the sight of Y/N piggybacking Sam. The sheer size difference between them made it look so absurd, yet hilarious. He held up the camera, trying his best to keep it steady while laughing.

"Alright, say cheese" he managed to get out between laughs, composing himself slightly to take the picture.

Sam grumbled, his cheeks flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and slight annoyance. "I hope you're happy" he muttered, trying to keep his balance on Y/N's back.

Y/N simply ignored his complaints, flashing a cheesy smile at the camera. "Come on, this is fun!" she teased, bouncing slightly to rile him up even more.

Dean burst out laughing again, trying to capture the perfect shot. "This is priceless" he managed to say, shaking his head in amusement.

Y/N let a grumpy Sam down as Dean walked over and handed Sam the camera. Sam took the camera reluctantly, still looking a bit moody about the whole piggyback situation. He held it up and looked through the viewfinder.

"Okay, it's your turn now" he said, looking over at Dean. Dean raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on his lips. "What, are you gonna give me a piggyback too?" he teased. “Fuck no, I’d like to keep my back in one piece” Y/N huffed, resting her hand on Deans chest to pose for the picture.

Dean chuckled, enjoying her touch on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. He leaned down slightly to be level with her.

"You look beautiful by the way" he murmured, his breath close to her ear. Y/N’s breath hitched again as Sam looked at the two with raised eyebrows and a sly smile on his face.

Silently praying that by the end of tonight, these two would finally just end it all and get together. “Take the picture, Sam” Y/N cleared her throat, swallowing hard.

Sam smirked, the sly smile on his face deepening. He could see the chemistry between the two, the fact that they were yet to act on it was starting to get annoying. "Okay, okay" he said, rolling his eyes slightly. He raised the camera up, looking through the viewfinder.

Dean pulled Y/N even closer, their bodies practically flush against each other. His eyes locked onto hers, a hint of longing and desire flashing through them.

Sam took the picture, capturing the tension palpable between the two. He lowered the camera, a knowing smile on his face. “Alright” Y/N chimed, pulling away from Dean. “Let’s go fellas, chop chop” She clapped her hands excitedly.

____________________________________________

Sioux Falls High, Sioux Falls, South Dakota

The air was alive with excitement. The school's gymnasium was transformed into a sea of glitzy decorations. Music thumped through the air as couples danced together, their laughter and chatter echoing throughout the room. The gym was all decked out for the occasion. There were silver and black balloons, a disco ball spinning above the dance floor, and a big banner that read "Class of 2001"

Dean, Sam, and Y/N entered the gymnasium, their eyes widening at the sight before them. Sam’s right arm was linked into Y/N’s left and Dean’s left arm was linked into Y/N’s right.

“Holy fuck” Y/N gasped. Sam's eyes were also wide, taking in the sights and sounds of the prom. "Whoa, the place looks great" he commented, his gaze flickering around the room.

Dean chuckled, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Just wait till the party really gets going" Dean snorted, his eyes immediately went to the snack table. Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's comment, knowing that his mind was on food. "Can't even go five minutes without thinking about food" he muttered under his breath.

Y/N, on the other hand, was looking around for any familiar faces, her eyes scanning the room. “Let’s go get a drink while Dean goes and stuffs his face” Y/N suggested to Sam.

Sam chuckled in agreement. "Let's get out of here before he starts drooling" he joked.

With that, the two of them headed towards the refreshments table, leaving Dean alone to make a beeline for the snack table. Eyeing the food like a hawk before diving in.

Over at the punch table, Sam poured Y/N a drink, handing it to her before pouring his own. Y/N thanked Sam graciously, taking a sip of her drink along with Sam. Their eyes widened, coughing when the taste of vodka seeped into their taste buds and hit the back of their throats.

"Whoa, they went all out spiking these huh?" Y/N commented, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Sam nodded, his expression a mix of surprise and slight amusement. "Yeah, no kidding. This stuff is strong" he said, taking another smaller sip this time.

“Uh uh uh, it’s prom night” Y/N tilted Sam’s glass more so he would drink it all. “We’re enjoying ourselves, Dean’s the designated driver so we’re partying like there’s no tomorrow”

Sam looked slightly hesitant at first, not wanting to get too drunk too quickly. However, the thought of letting loose and having a good time swayed him.

"Alright, alright" he said, downing the rest of his drink. "But if I end up puking on someone, you're cleaning it up" he warned Y/N with a grin.

“You know damn well I’m puking on you too if you puke infront of me” She grimaced, shaking her head in disgust. “Plus, when I am gonna see you again to coax you into getting drunk with me....” She said a bit sadly. Sam had gotten his acceptance letter to Stanford but he had yet to tell John, F/N or Dean.

The secret has been tumultuous to keep from their family but they knew how they would react to Sam leaving.

Sam's smile faded a bit, a pang of guilt hitting him. He knew he needed to tell his family about his acceptance to Stanford, but he had been putting it off, afraid of the explosive reaction that would surely follow.

"Yeah, I know" he responded softly, his gaze meeting Y/N's. "I just... I'm not ready to tell them yet. Especially Dean, you know how defensive he gets"

“I know, Sammy” She smiled sadly. “But I’m proud of you” She added genuinely. Sam smiled weakly, his heart warming to hear that from his best friend. He always valued and respected her opinion, so when she pushed him to go to college after being skeptical about taking the leap, he dove head first in.

But that didn’t stop the guilt from lingering at the fact that he was gonna leave her and Dean to deal with their fathers wraths. She expressed that she had no desire to go to college but he knew that was bullshit, and now with her record. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t.

“Thanks, Y/N" he said, his voice soft.

-

Sam and Y/N stayed stationed at the punch bowl, four to five drinks in. The teens were getting pretty tipsy at this point.

Suddenly, the music changed to, ‘Quit Playing Games With My Heart’ by Backstreet Boys, prompting an excited scream from Y/N. "Oh my God, I love this song!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. "Come on, let's dance!"

She grabbed Sam's hand, pulling him towards the dance floor without giving him a chance to protest. Sam let himself be dragged by Y/N, feeling the effects of the alcohol in his system. His head was slightly fuzzy, and he found himself not minding a bit of dancing.

“Even in my heartttt…I seeee….You’re not being true to meee” Y/N sung as she swayed to the song with Sam. As they reached the dance floor, Sam felt the infectious energy of the song and found himself swaying to the beat with her. Hearing Y/N sing along made him chuckle. "You have the singing skills of a dying cat," he teased.

Y/N flipped him off as she danced along with her best friend. Sam laughed, the middle finger in his direction not bothering him in the slightest. He was enjoying himself, dancing and laughing with Y/N. The alcohol had done its thing, he felt lighter, more carefree than usual.

As the song played on, Sam found his moves getting more exaggerated and carefree. He spun Y/N around suddenly, and they erupted into a fit of giggles.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here” A voice boomed behind Y/N, she spun around her eyes wide to see her ex boyfriend, Xander. They had broken up not too long after she came out of juvie. She knew once she graduated, she wouldn’t have been able to keep the relationship going.

Xander expressed his desire to become a police officer after witnessing the complete injustice Y/N faced with her charges. It warmed her heart incredibly but with the line of work her family was in, she didn’t want to put him in danger.

So she ended things, lying to Xander about getting into Stanford with Sam. Since Xander was gonna stay in Sioux Falls, a blind man could see that long distance wasn’t gonna work for either of them. He was heartbroken and so was she, but it was for the best and the two parted on good terms.

Y/N was caught off guard by Xander's sudden appearance. Her heartrate picked up as she turned to face him, memories of their short-lived relationship flooding back to her.

She remembered the good times they shared, his support in the aftermath of her time in juvie, but also how she had to lie to him about her future plans, saying she wrote a riveting essay to the college and got accepted despite her record. It had been for the best, but it still hurt.

She put on a smile, masking the turmoil she felt in the moment. "Hey, Xander" she greeted him with a small smile. Sam, sensing the tension between Y/N and Xander, stood quietly next to her. He knew Y/N had ended things with Xander, his mind going back to the night she bawled her eyes out in his arms after pulling the plug on the relationship.

He could sense the unease in Y/N's voice and knew this was a delicate moment. Xander's expression was a mix of surprise and nostalgia as he looked at Y/N. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing seeing her again. "You look good," he commented, a slight waver in his voice.

“Thank you, you look great” She greeted back with flushed cheeks. “Hey Alex” Sam greeted Alexander with the typical bro-fist-bump they always did when him and y/n were together. Xander returned the greetings with a slight nod at Sam and a smile at Y/N. "Hey man" he said to Sam.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the three of them stood together, the tension between Y/N and Xander still hanging in the air. Sam, being the perceptive one, could feel the tension. He tried to break the ice. "So, enjoying the prom?" he asked, looking between the two.

"Yeah, it's great" Xander replied, his eyes never leaving Y/N.

Y/N fidgeted with the hem of her dress, feeling the intensity of Xander's gaze. A million thoughts were running through her mind. She didn't expect to see him here, especially after their breakup and her lies.

"We're just about to get another drink" Sam chimed in, sensing Y/N's discomfort. Y/N’s eyes flickered to a little distance behind him, a familiar face made an idea pop into her head, though she was already planning this long before. “Oh my god, is that Cindy Wu? Sammy, it’s Cindy” She nudged Sam behind her.

He recognized Cindy Wu, a girl he had had a low-key crush on for ages. His ears perked up as Y/N mentioned her name, and he looked around to see Cindy standing with a group of her friends a few feet away. “Xander, could you give us a second. I just wanna introduce Sam and Cindy” Y/N said politely to her ex boyfriend.

Xander looked slightly taken aback by the request, but he nodded. "Sure" he relented.

Sam shot Y/N a questioning glance, clearly puzzled by her actions. But before he could say anything, Y/N had grasped his wrist and was pulling him towards where Cindy stood.

“Cindy, hi!” Y/N greeted Cindy with a sweet smile. Cindy turned her head towards Y/N, her face lighting up in recognition. "Y/N! Hi!" she replied happily, returning the smile. Her eyes then went to Sam, who was trying to keep his cool demeanor, but failing miserably.

“Girl, you look gorgeous” She gushed at Cindy’s beautiful baby blue corset dress. Cindy blushed at the compliment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you! You look amazing yourself" she said, her eyes flickering over to Sam for a brief moment.

Sam was now blushing heavily, fiddling with the collar of his shirt nervously. “Thanks sweetie” She smiled widely, “I’m sure you know my friend, Sam” Y/N nudged Sam towards Cindy. Sam stumbled forward slightly, his eyes widening as Y/N pushed him towards Cindy. He took a deep breath, plastering on a shy smile.

"H-Hi, Cindy" he stuttered, his voice cracking mid-sentence. He mentally cursed himself for being so nerv. Cindy giggled slightly at Sam’s nervous behavior, the sight endearing to her. "Hey, Sam" she greeted in response, her voice soft.

Y/N stood back, watching the interaction between the two. This was exactly what she had planned. She knew Sam had a crush on Cindy, and she hoped that maybe this would be the night he finally made a move.

Sam’s heart was hammering inside his chest, nervousness and alcohol coursing through his veins. He tried to compose himself, to seem more confident than he was.

“You look very handsome Sam” Cindy gushed, blushing profusely. Sam's cheeks were now aflame, his whole face turning red. He wasn’t used to receiving compliments from girls, let alone from a girl he had a crush on.

He tried to think of something charming to say, something to keep the conversation going. But his mind was blanking, consumed by her beauty and her praise.

"T-thank you" he managed to stutter out, his hands awkwardly shoved into his pockets. "Yeah, you look beautiful" Sam managed to stutter out, his cheeks redder than ever. “L-like a peacock” Sam slurred, gesturing to her blue dress and her perfectly styled hair.

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes and facepalmed internally. Oh God, these two are as hopeless as each other, she thought to herself.

Cindy let out a nervous laugh, her cheeks flushing further at Sam's comment. She was charmed by his awkward attempts at flirting, finding it endearing.

"Thank you, Sam" she said with a nervous stutter, clearly unsure of what to say next. She fidgeted with her dress, glancing from Sam to Y/N and then back to Sam.

Y/N could feel the palpable awkwardness between the two. She knew they both liked each other, but neither one was making the first move. She wanted to shove them into each other and just make them kiss.

“Okay….well I’m gonna go…enjoy” Y/N snickered before excusing herself back to Xander. Sam watched as Y/N left, his heart rate increasing even further. Now he was left alone with Cindy, the girl of his dreams, and he had no idea what to do or say.

Cindy glanced at Y/N, watching her leave with a smile. Then she turned back to Sam, her eyes studying him for a moment. She was nervous too, but she didn’t want to show it.

“So, you having fun?” she asked casually, trying to start up a conversation.

-

“Oh my god, they’re like puppies” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she poured herself a drink. Xander laughed, sipping his punch, his eyes trained on the way she wobbled due to the alcohol in her system.

Dean stood by the snack table, idly munching on some chips as he watched the festivities unfolding around him. His eyes zeroed in across the gym in Y/N’s direction.

His gaze landed on Y/N and Xander, the two standing close together, an air of familiarity between them. He watched as Y/N poured herself a drink, her movements a tad sloppy, indicating she was tipsy.

His eyes darkened slightly as he took in the scene, a pang of jealousy stirring within him. He hadn't expected to see Y/N so buddy-buddy with her ex-boyfriend, and the sight didn't bode well with him.

Back at the punch table, “So, how are you?” Y/N asked Xander casually, sipping her vodka laced punch. Xander took a moment to respond, his eyes tracing over Y/N's face. He saw the slight flush on her cheeks thatindicated she was a bit drunk.

"I'm okay" he finally answered, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. "Better than okay, actually. But what about you? And honestly" he added, his gaze fixed on her.

“I’m getting by” She sighed with a nod. “It’s good to see you though” Xander’s expression softened at her words. “It’s good to see you too” he agreed, his tone sincere.

He glanced over her shoulder for a moment, noticing Sam and Cindy a few feet away dancing. He turned his attention back to Y/N, an amused smile on his lips. “Looks like your boy is finally making a move,” he teased, jerking his head in Sam’s direction, where Sam was awkwardly dancing with Cindy, their bodies a safe distance apart.

“Oh my god” Y/N laughed hysterically at the way they awkwardly moved, “He’s growing up” She joked, holding up her punch. Xander chuckled along with her, his eyes drifting back to Sam and Cindy. “It’s a sight isn’t it?” he commented, watching the two of them dance.

He took in Y/N's relaxed demeanor, the tension that usually coiled around her when they were in public had faded, replaced with a comfortable ease. He was happy to see her so at ease.

“Yeah…” Y/N smiled, turning back to Xander. “So…” She cleared her throat. “Have you heard back from the academy?” Xander's expression changed at the question, a hint of pride in his eyes. He had been working hard to get into the police academy.

"Yeah, I did actually" he responded, a small smile on his lips. "I got accepted last week"

“What?! Xander that’s amazing!” She hugged him, “I’m so happy to hear that, you’re gonna be the best cop in Sioux Falls” Xander hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. He had worked so hard to get into the academy, and it felt good to have someone genuinely proud of him. "Thanks, I'm really excited" he said, his voice filled with excitement.

The clearing of a throat behind Y/N startled them both, their gazes darted to the direction of the sound to see Dean. Dean stood a few feet away from the pair, his arms crossed over his chest, and a slightly brooding look etched on his face.

He took in the sight of Y/N and Xander together, his eyes flickering between the two of them. “How was the snack table?” Y/N chimed. Dean's gaze landed on Y/N, taking in her slightly tipsy state. He could tell that she had definitely had her fair share of punch.

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it cool despite the jealousy that was building up within him. "It was fine" he grumbled, his eyes flickering briefly over to Xander before returning to Y/N.

Xander's ears pricked up at the unexpected appearance of Dean, sensing the tension in the air. His eyes darted between Y/N and Dean, silently taking in the dynamic between the two.

He narrowed his eyes a bit, tilting his head as the wheels turned in his head.

Wait a damn minute…. Xander thought to himself.

He was used to the cold demeanor of the older Winchester, but the look Dean was giving him now was particularly hostile. “Dean, how have you been?” Xander asked in a friendly tone, stretching his hand out to shake Dean’s.

Dean eyed Xander's outstretched hand for a moment, his expression cold and unwelcoming. But he relented, shaking Xander's hand firmly but not warmly. "Good" he grumbled in response, his reply short and curt.

How did I not see it before? Damn… Xander internally chided himself.

He chided himself for being so blind and in love with Y/N that he didn’t realize the reason Dean was so cold with him was because…well…he felt the same way he did about the same girl.

Y/N looked down at her punch and back up to Xander, her mind fuzzy. “Well, it was great to see you, Xander. Really. Congratulations, again…I’ll see you around” She chimed before reaching up to kiss his cheek. Taking Dean’s hand into hers and leading him away.

Xander smiled warmly, appreciative of Y/N's congratulations and her goodbye. He tried his best to ignore Dean's icy demeanor, knowing how protective the older Winchester brother was of Y/N.

As Y/N took Dean's hand and led him away, Xander couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. He had cared about Y/N deeply during their time together, and seeing her with Dean now was a constant reminder of what he had lost. But he didn't show it, just smiled and watched them walk away.

Now on the dancefloor, “What was that about?!” Y/N gritted her teeth at Dean as they made their way to the dance floor. Dean was slightly taken aback by Y/N's sudden shift in mood. He was used to her fiery nature, but her anger still caught him off guard.

"What was what about?" he asked, feigning innocence, even though he knew exactly what she was referring to. “You practically cockblocked me man” She groaned.

Dean's eyes widened, taken aback by her choice of words. Cockblocked? That was a new one. "I did no such thing" he protested, his tone defensive. "I just came over to say hello" He added weakly.

“You barely said a word” She snorted, shaking her head in amusement. “It was kinda awkward though.” She chuckled, swaying to the music. Dean couldn't deny that the interaction had been a tad awkward. Seeing Y/N cozy with her ex-boyfriend had spiked a pang of jealousy within him, and he hadn't exactly been subtle about it.

“Dance with me” Y/N suggested, as ‘It’s Gonna Be Me’ by *NSYNC started playing in the prom. Dean shot her a look, a mix of surprise and reluctance on his face. He was not a big fan of dancing, especially in public.

But the pleading look in Y/N's eyes was enough to break down any protest he had. He let out a long-suffering sigh and resigned himself to her request. "Alright, alright" he agreed reluctantly, taking her hand and stepping closer to her on the dance floor.

“Every little thing I dooo, never seems enough for youuuu. You don’t wanna losee it like againn. But I’m not like themm” Y/N swayed drunkenly, wrapping her arms around Deans shoulders, singing along to the song.

Dean allowed himself to be pulled along, his movements a bit stiff and awkward next to her fluid swaying. He chuckled at her drunken singing, finding her carefree attitude amusing despite his initial resistance.

“Baby when you fi-na-llyy, get to love some-bo-dyyy. Guess whatt? It’s gonna be me” Dean sang along with her.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at the sound of Dean singing. She didn't expect him to join in, but the surprise quickly gave way to a wide grin.

She tightened her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as they danced. She was tipsy and carefree, the alcohol making her less inhibited than usual.

"Aww, look at you, singing along like a pro, Winchester" she teased, laughter in her voice. “I thought you didn’t sing those, and I quote, ‘teeny poppy girly songs’” She snorted, quoting his words to her when she would listen to songs like this.

Dean gave her a sheepish grin, his cheeks flushing slightly. He had indeed made such a comment in the past, but seeing Y/N enjoying the song, he couldn’t help but join in.

"Hey, I make exceptions" he retorted, trying to maintain some level of coolness. "And I might have listened to a few of those ‘teeny poppy girly songs’ on my own time" he admitted reluctantly. “No shit” She snickered dancing with him.

Dean tried to hide his embarrassment, but the flush on his cheeks betrayed him. "Alright, alright, you’ve had your chuckle" he grumbled, trying to act grumpy but the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

As the song continued, he found himself getting more into the rhythm, dancing with less restraint. The closeness between them, coupled with Y/N's carefree attitude, made it difficult to stay stoic.

Y/N's body was pressed up against Dean's, swaying to the music. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his hands on her waist sending a jolt through her.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes clouded with drunken affection. She was feeling brave, maybe even a little reckless, spurred on by the alcohol.

She leaned in closer to him, whispering so only he could hear, "You know, Winchester, you're not such a bad dancer after all" Dean felt a rush of heat at her words. Her closeness was intoxicating, and the huskiness in her voice made his heart race.

He tried to maintain his usual cool demeanor, but her compliment sent a thrill through him. "Gee, thanks" he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes for effect, but his tone lacked his customary edge. He held her closer, his hands tightening on her hips as they continued to move to the music.

"You’re not half bad yourself, considering you’re drunk off your ass" he added, a small smirk playing on his lips. Y/N chuckled at his response, her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. "You love it when I'm drunk, admit it" she teased, her breath warm against his neck.

She pressed herself closer to him, her body molding against his as they danced. The alcohol in her system was making her clingy, her inhibitions lowered.

Dean was taken back by this, reminding himself that she’s just drunk and that’s why she’s acting like this. He cleared his throat before pulling away slightly to look at his watch, “It’s almost 12, we’ve gotta go” He said urgently.

Y/N's face fell at his words, a pout forming on her lips. "What? Why?" she whined, her hands still gripping onto Dean tightly.

The alcohol was making her stubborn and unwilling to part with him, the magic of the moment shattered by the harsh reality of time.

"Can’t we stay for a little longer?" she pleaded, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “This isn’t Cinderella” She groaned. “I’m sorry sweetheart. We promised our dads we’d be back home before 11. Let’s get Sammy and beat it” Dean denied.

Y/N's pout intensified at his refusal, but she knew he was right. They had made a promise to their dads, and breaking it would spell trouble.

"Okay, okay" she grumbled, her disappointment evident. She reluctantly untangled herself from him, her body immediately missing the warmth of his touch.

"But I'm calling shot gun on the way home" she declared firmly, her stubborn streak not completely squashed.

“Can we stop and get burgers? I’m craving a milkshake” She asked hopefully as Dean pulled her through the dancefloor to interrupt Sam in the middle of his make out session with Cindy Wu.

Dean nodded in agreement, his own stomach rumbling at the thought of greasy burgers and a thick milkshake. "Yeah, we can stop by that diner we like" he assured her, gently pulling her past the couples dancing around them.

When they reached Sam and Cindy, both of them were too engrossed in their own world to notice their presence. Dean cleared his throat loudly, finally getting their attention.

Sam jumped, clearly startled out of their moment. He quickly ran a hand through his messy hair in an attempt to smooth it out, a sheepish look on his face. His gaze darted from Y/N to Dean, anticipating their remarks.

Y/N giggled at the way Sam’s hair was disheveled and his lips were swollen. Dean smirked, unable to resist teasing his younger brother. "Looks like someone was having quite the dance party over here" he said, his tone filled with barely suppressed amusement.

Y/N added to the teasing, a wicked grin on her face. "I didn't know prom was a make out contest" she teased, poking fun at Sam's disheveled appearance. The drunken side of her mind was jealous because that should’ve been her and Dean.

But the logical side screamed at her for being an idiot and embarrassing herself, ‘He’s not into you, L/N. Stop being so desperate’ Her mind yelled at her.

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to play it cool despite being caught red handed. "Okay, okay, you’ve had your laughs" he muttered, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

Cindy, feeling left out of the conversation, spoke up, "Are you guys leaving already?"

“Yeah, Cinderella here is scared his car turns into a pumpkin at 12” Y/N scoffed, smacking Dean in his arm. Dean huffed indignantly at Y/N's jibe. "Hey, watch it" he warned, rubbing his arm where she had hit him. He shot her a scowl, but there was no heat behind it.

"We promised our dads we'd be back before 11" he reminded Y/N, his tone turning serious again. "We gotta keep our word." Y/N rolled her eyes, “But they’re not here!” She protested.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Doesn’t matter if they’re here or not" he retorted. "We made a promise, and we’re keeping it." He was growing increasingly annoyed by her stubbornness, even as endearing as he found it.

“Fine, let’s go. I’m sorry, Cindy” Sam turned to Cindy with a sad smile. Cindy smiled at Sam, a little disappointed that the night was coming to an end. "It's okay, Sam. I understand" she replied, although she clearly would've preferred otherwise.

Dean led Y/N and Sam towards the exit of the gym, his body tense with irritation from the situation. Dean buckled Sam and Y/N into the backseat, both teenagers giggly from the effects of the spiked punch.

Dean shook his head at the pair as he got into the driver's seat. They were a mess, their giggles and hiccups only adding to his growing headache. He knew it was going to be a long ride back.

"You two are impossible" he muttered to himself, adjusting the rearview mirror to glance at Y/N and Sam in the backseat. “Shut up and put on some music!” Y/N hollered enthusiastically as Sam cheered.

Dean rolled his eyes again, but he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Their carefree attitude was infectious, even in his grumpy state. They were like rowdy teenagers who hadn't grown up.

He turned on the radio, the sound of Bon Jovi's ‘Livin' on a Prayer’ filled the car. “Oh my god I love this song!” Y/N screamed as she and Sam sang along.

Dean groaned inwardly, but he couldn't stay annoyed for long. The two in the backseat were infectious, and their energy was slowly thawing his grumpiness.

"You both are so damn loud" he complained half-heartedly, the corners of his mouth twitching with a barely suppressed smile. “We’ll give it a shot!! Woaahhhh, we’re half way thereeee. WOAHHHHH LIVING IN A PRAYER!!” Sam and Y/N screamed the lyrics at the top of their lungs spitefully.

Dean chuckled against his will, the sound of their out-of-tune singing was oddly endearing. Despite his best efforts to remain composed, he found himself singing along under his breath, the words becoming a little more audible over time.

He shot a glance at Y/N in the rearview mirror, a small smile on his face at their antics. They were loud, obnoxious, and totally incapable of keeping to themselves, but he was strangely fond of them all the same.

Halfway through the song, a stir in Y/N’s stomach began erupting, holding her mouth. “God I think I’m gonna be sick” She groaned. Deans eyes snapped to her in the backseat. “If you barf on my upholstery I will toss your ass out” Dean warned her.

Y/N's face grew pale, a wave of nausea crashing into her. The earlier carefree joy now replaced by a queasy unease. Feeling the contents of her stomach churn, she clutched at her belly, her eyes growing wide.

"Oh crap, I think I need to throw up" she whimpered, her voice weak and raspy. The thought of throwing up in Dean's precious car was enough to add to her growing anxiety.

“Pull over dude!” Sam yelled at his older brother. Dean acted quickly, pulling the car off the road swiftly. As soon as the car was at a complete stop, Y/N threw open the car door and stumbled out, her body hunching over as she vomited beside the road, into the drainage.

Sam grimaced at the sound of her retching, his own nausea kicking in. Dean, on the other hand, got out and began patting her back. Holding her hair up for her as she let the remnants of the vodka out of her stomach.

Sam grimaced before stumbling out behind them, barfing up his own stomach contents next to Y/N. The sight of Sam's projectile vomiting was the icing on the cake for Dean, he couldn't contain his reaction as he doubled over in laughter.

"Oh, you two are unbelievable" he managed to say in-between chuckles. He leaned against the car, shaking his head at the absolute state the two were in. “Can it and hold my hair!” Y/N whined.

Dean bit back his laughter and nodded, moving to stand behind Y/N again. He gingerly gathered her hair in one hand, holding it away from her face as she continued to heave.

Stood between both Sam and Y/N, he rubbed his little brothers back soothingly as he let out more wretched vomits. "I'll hold your hair, but I'm not shutting up" he said, his tone teasing. "This is what you get for gulping down spiked punch like it's water."

-

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N's stomach seemed to have expelled all the alcohol. She leaned against the car, her face pale and clammy, looking thoroughly wrecked.

Sam wasn’t fairing much better. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the tire, his head lolling to the side.

Dean was still standing near Y/N, his hand still holding her hair, his other rubbing her back soothingly.

Y/N got up after emptying her stomach, wiping her mouth as she sat next to Sam on the gravelly road, her dress dampening. Dean reached into his glove compartment, pulling out a pack of cigarettes he had in case y/n ever ran out and a spare lighter.

He took one out, sticking it between his lips, lighting it. Inhaling a plume of smoke before handing Y/N the stick which she accepted graciously.

As Y/N took the cigarette from Dean, her fingers brushed against his. The contact sent a jolt through her, reminding her of the night's earlier flirty behaviour. But her current state of nausea quickly squashed any such thoughts.

She took a long, deep drag on the cigarette, hoping the nicotine would settle her churning stomach and quell the pounding in her head. “You’re a lifesaver” She muttered gratefully, leaning her head back onto Sam's shoulder.

Dean smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners amused. “Don’t get used to it” he joked as he made his way around the car to the trunk, opening it and pulling out a bag he had with toiletries. Finding out the mouthwash after unzipping the little clear baggie.

“I am never drinking again” Y/N groaned, her head dropping on Sam’s shoulder. Dean chuckled at her claim, knowing full well that the both of them would be drinking again come next weekend. "Yeah, that's what you said last time" he teased, walking over to them with the bottle of mouthwash in his hand.

Sam, who was slowly coming to his senses, echoed Y/N's sentiment, his eyes closed in discomfort. "Agreed, I'm never touching alcohol again" Sam groaned, his voice hoarse.

Y/N snatched the bottle of mouthwash from Dean, gathering some into her mouth before handing it to Sam who accepted the bottle, taking a large swig of the liquid and swishing it around his mouth before spitting it out onto the road along with Y/N simultaneously.

The burning sensation of the alcohol made their eyes water.

Dean watched this with amusement, shaking his head. "You both really are a sight for sore eyes," he joked, leaning against the car. "A couple of prom royals, reduced to puking in the drain next to my car."

He couldn't help but find the humor in their situation, even if they were both miserable messes at that moment. Y/N rolled her eyes, outstretching her hand for Dean to help her up.

Dean chuckled at her eye-roll, but he complied none the less. He reached out and grasped her hand, gently pulling her to her feet, taking one last drag from her cigarette before she flicked the burnt out bud to the side, in the drainage.

He then moved to help Sam up, who was still looking a little green around the gills. With both of them on their feet, Dean couldn't help but grimace at how disheveled they both looked.

“We still getting those burgers?” She asked hopefully as they helped Sam up. Dean shook his head at her one-tracked stomach. Despite their current mess, she still had food on the brain. "Yeah, we're still getting the burgers" he confirmed, guiding both Sam and Y/N back to the Impala.

"But you're both washing up in that gas station over there first" he added, pointing towards a small gas station a few feet away. Sam and Y/N looked down at their mess of outfits, then at each other before shrugging.

He had a point. They looked like crap.

____________________________________________

The diner was fairly empty given the late hour, which suited them just fine. Dean led Y/N and Sam to a booth at the back, sitting opposite them as they settled in.

The waitress approached their table, a tired smile on her face as she handed out menus. She took their orders, making a few notes before heading towards the kitchen.

Sam and Y/N looked absolutely terrible. Y/N’s hair was sticking up in all directions, the once perfect curls now tousled and knotted. Her lipstick was smudged, eyeliner and mascara stained her cheeks, and her prom dress was stained from the previous events. She looked like a zombie prom queen without the crown.

Sam was in a similar state, his usually neat hair sticking up in messy peaks, and his shirt rumpled from his stint with the ground. His tie was hung around his neck, the bow limp and loose. Remnants of Cindy Wu’s lipstick smeered on his neck and his shirt collar.

-

They both practically inhaled their food, their appetites returning with a vengeance. It seemed puking up the spiked punch had reignited their hunger.

Dean watched them with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Even though they looked a mess, they still managed to wolf down their burgers with gusto.

“Jesus Christ, I could make love to this burger” Y/N moaned, dipping some fries into ketchup before biting into it, her eyes fluttering close with pleasure.

Dean almost sputtered on his drink, his eyes widening at her comment. He wasn’t expecting her to say that, and the image her words conjured up sent his mind reeling.

“Jesus, L/N” he muttered, trying to play it off as he busied himself with his own food. Though he couldn’t deny the way his stomach churned at her words, a certain heat pooling in his stomach.

“Damn straight, and this milkshake” Sam agreed, sipping his milkshake. His expression mimicked Y/N’s reaction to her food.

Dean snorted at their enthusiasm, shaking his head at the duo. They were acting as if they hadn’t eaten in days instead of a few hours ago.

“Slow down, you’re going to give yourselves stomach aches” he warned, though there was no conviction in his tone. He couldn’t help but find their gluttony endearing.

“Shut up” Sam and Y/N snapped in unison before going back to their food.

Dean raised his hands in surrender, deciding not to make any further objections. It was clear that when it came to food, there was no stopping them.

He continued to eat his own meal, watching as they ate with relish. Their disheveled state and messy faces made the scene even more amusing.

“So, how was Cindy’s tongue down your throat?” Y/N teased her best friend, nudging his side with her elbow. Sam choked on his milkshake, his cheeks turning red at the mention of his time with Cindy. He swallowed, clearing his throat before shooting an embarrassed glance at Y/N. He had nearly forgotten about that in his food-induced bliss.

“Uh, it was... nice” he mumbled, trying to play it cool. Though the evidence from Cindy's lipstick on his collar said otherwise. Dean and Y/N bursted out laughing.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh, the sight of Sam, trying to act nonchalant, while his collar was smeared with lipstick was just too comical.

Y/N joined in with a fit of giggles, her own food momentarily forgotten. She leaned back in the booth, wiping a tear from her eye as she snorted with laughter.

“Despite the vomiting and the hangover I am dreading in the morning. I had fun tonight fellas” Dean smiled at her words, glad that she could find the silver lining despite the night’s events. “Yeah, me too,” he replied, taking a swig of his soda. “Even though I had to deal with two puking teenagers in my car” he added, shooting a teasing glance at Y/N and Sam.

“And don’t even get me started on the gas station bathroom” he continued, exaggerating his complaints in jest. “I swear it’s like the two of you tried to throw up everywhere but in the goddamn toilet”

This earned Dean a fry tossed at his head by Y/N.

Dean dodged the flying fry, narrowly avoiding it striking him in the forehead. He laughed even louder at the failed attempt, throwing his head back at Y/N's antics.

“Now you’ve done it” he warned in a mock-threatening tone. He reached for a fry from his plate, aiming it at Y/N and flicking it towards her. Y/N quickly swatted it away with her hand, only for it to hit Sam in his head.

Sam grunted in surprise, a piece of the fry landing in his hair. He looked up at Y/N with faux outrage, his eyes narrowing jokingly.

“Seriously?” He asked, plucking the fry from his head. He then lobbed it back at her, a laugh escaping his lips. Y/N laughed loudly as Sam just shrugged and ate the fry.

Dean watched the exchange with amusement, his own food long forgotten. Sam and Y/N were like siblings, constantly teasing and taunting one another without malice. It was refreshing to see them being carefree teenagers for a change.

He couldn’t help but smile at their infectious laughter, the sound bouncing off the diner walls.

👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓👩🏻‍🎓🧑🏻‍🎓

Authors Note: Hi again, I hope everyone liked this one. I’ve had this tucked away for too long, I’m just so happy to let it be seen now.

Tell you what you think! Comments, reblogs and opinions are greatly appreciated❤️

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia

Thanks again,

Xoxo

[shitswiftiessay]

3 little girls were brutally murdered while dancing to Taylor Swift songs and of course some swifties have decided to make this tragedy all about them and how persecuted and unsafe they feel AS SWIFTIES.

At this time we don’t know ANYTHING about the killer’s motivations but obviously you have to be a special kind of fucked up and evil to commit such a crime against 6 year old girls, regardless of the “motivation”. But the swifties have decided that he did it simply because he hates taylor swift and quote “was raised in a culture to dislike Taylor.”

And swifties are lumping EVERYONE who ever criticised Taylor or swifties into the same category as the Southport killer, saying that we caused this horrific act of violence and I’m just like- are you actually fucking serious?

When people say they HATE SWIFTIES they are obviously talking about the cult like grown adults and teenagers who are nasty and bigoted to other people. NO ONE in their right fucking mind would think a 6 year old deserved to be murdered because she went to a Taylor Swift themed dance class. Fuck you for even trying to put Taylor critics into the same category as that POS. And absolutely FUCK YOU for trying to make this tragedy about YOURSELF and your perceived victim complex as a swiftie.

It is a GIANT fucking leap to equate “bully a swiftie today” with the fucking murder of 6 year olds.

Also let me say while I do NOT agree with calling for Taylor to be publicly executed, I think this is insanely hypocritical coming from a fandom that has done nothing but wish death on Joe Alwyn and threaten him for the past year. But you’re saying that YOU feel unsafe as a swiftie.

This rhetoric about swifties being a persecuted class is especially goddamn rich considering that swifties on Twitter LOVE to make fun of the Manchester bombing, calling Ariana “BOMBIANA” and making memes about the 22 victims who died at Manchester. Take a look for yourself at their disgusting behaviour. THIS is just one of the many reasons why people HATE swifties ⬇️

[theblue6ook]

Other Lovers

Summary: Here’s something I didn’t tell you. Our charming bachelor Bruce is still invested in his old fling Rachel and our beautiful assistant Y/N is engaged (but not for long hehehe).

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Listen there’s a reason it’s called a slow burn. For more context you can follow the full “Out of My League” series. Also, Y/N is just turning 22, this is doubling as her birthday post. [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]

Y/N had known Danny Russel since primary school. He started working at her dad’s mechanic shop in middle school. They started dating in high school. Russ and her were stupid teenagers in love doing stupid teenager things. Going to Chuck’s Chili way too late on a school night. Taking the cars they were working on drifting. Fooling around in said cars…

He’s been there for her since the beginning. Him and Carrie sat and supported her through her run in with the cops, when her dad kicked her out. Even after she decided to further her education, he was there… on his knee… proposing at eighteen. Again, stupid teenagers in love.

They weren’t stupid teenagers anymore.

It had been a long engagement and she was no where near ready to get married and he was… Russ. Always ready for anything. Always ready to tie the knot and that was great. It was, but they had no money and honestly, they’re in different places right now. Russ really wanted to focus on his music. She needed to focus on Bruce. She means work. Whatever. Bruce is her work okay? When he’s stressed it’s her job to get shit done and he seems really on edge lately.

Plus, her and Russ were kind of going through a rough patch. He didn’t exactly seem pleased she was working with Bruce Wayne or even that she was working at Wayne Enterprises. It had always been her and Russ against the world, but now she was in that world. It didn’t exactly sit right with him no matter how much money she made. But she was trying to schedule a date with him anyway. Well a birthday date. It was her birthday. Bruce had been nice enough to make a reservation for her and a plus one at his restaurant downtown. People waited months to get a table and she had one in less than a day. He assured her it was all his treat for her birthday and to go crazy. So she wanted Russ to come. 

“Y/N/N, you have never been that girl who wants to go to The Occult or whatever it is.” She had been sitting at the office on the phone with Russ for the past 15 minutes trying to convince him to come with her. It was getting to be too much.

“It’s The Ocelot, Russ,” she hissed into the phone. She was trying to be quiet about their spat, but everytime she thought they were taking three steps forward it was five steps back. Rubbing her eyes she said, “Seriously don’t be like this. Bruce is just trying to do something nice.”

“That’s great. Let’s let the millionaire finally do something nice for everyone else.”

“He’s a billionaire, actually.”

“Jesus, Y/N/N I am not going to be caught dead in that snobby place. Lets just do something casual babe. Let me take you to Chucks-”

“Russ, I am twenty two years old,” she snapped, “I don’t want to go to the high school hangout and eat chili dogs. I want to look nice. I want to have a nice drink at a sophisticated restaurant.”

“Babe, I can’t afford to take you there. It is what it is,” he stated so condsending. Like his word was god. Like there was no way in the world he could even show up.

“Well shit good thing you don’t have to worry about the money. It’s already paid for, I have told you this. This is the third time I’m telling you this.”

She could tell they were both getting frustrated and Y/N knows they should take a step back. Compromise. But she had done a lot of compromising lately and what had he been doing? This was her birthday. Was it too much to ask her fiance to take her to a nice restaurant? He didn’t even have to pay for it. He just had to show up.

“Since when did you take handouts,” he scolded. “That’s not the Y/N I know.”

“I’ve got to go, Russ,” she sighed and hung up before he could say anything else.

The conversation felt so backhanded. Everytime she talked to him she felt like she was getting scolded for having a nice job, nice clothes, and nice things. Her boss wants to reward her with a birthday dinner. You’re taking handouts. His driver drops her off at home when she has to work late. Why does Bruce Wayne know your schedule so well? She’s been so excited for this new opportunity, but everytime she wants to talk with him about it he doesn’t want to hear about it. The bands not doing well. I’m busy bartending tonight. What do you mean you have to work early tomorrow? No, I won’t come to your birthday dinner.

It made her question herself. He was making her question herself. Maybe I should just cancel the reservation. I’m being difficult. She picked up the phone again and dialed The Ocelot.

“Hi, I was just calling to cancel my dinner reservation.” A hand came from over her shoulder and took the phone out of her hand, hanging it up. She didn’t even need to look over her shoulder, she knew it was Bruce Wayne.

“I was using that, Mr.Wayne,” she sighed, picking up the phone and redialing the number. He took it out of her hand again and unplugged the phone line. She turned to him, “What is your problem?”

“Why are you canceling your birthday dinner?” he looked at her quizically. “It’s free. I’m paying for it. You love free things.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Everyone loves free things,” she mumbled as she started look up their other contact information on the computer. Maybe I can find an email.

“Even the rich,” he added, “but that doesn’t answer my question.” He leaned his forearms on the front of her desk and hit the off button on her computer so she had no choice but to looked at him.

She leaned her head back into her chair and closed her eyes groaning in defeat, “My fiance, he’s… busy so I’m not sure who I’d really go with.”

“Your fiance is busy… on your birthday.” She gave him a glare that said, just go with it. “Why don’t you take Carrie then?”

“I shouldn’t she has a lot going on-”

“You don’t want to tell her he screwed up again do you?”

“How did you know he screwed up in the first place?”

He shrugged, “I’ve been talking to Alfred.”

“About my love life?”

“What else is there?” So many other things, but it didn’t matter Y/N decided she was done talking about herself. She decided to pivot.

“You know Rachels going to be at the Ocelot too. I saw it on the Gotham Gazette” She looked up at him. “She’s going out with Harvey Dent to celebrate his campaign.”

“How do you know about Rachel?” She gave him that look. 

“Alfred,” he sighed.

-

It wasn’t that Bruce was in love with Rachel he just missed her. A lot. He missed their late night conversations. He missed having someone down to Earth who understood the crazy uptown world they were in. He missed talking with someone about his… night shift. Most importantly, he missed his friend and the fact that she was his friend made him love her. He didn’t even mean to. He just did.

So what was he supposed to do besides… offer to bring the entire Gotham Ballet to The Ocelot the exact day Rachel and Harvey would be there. He didn’t have a choice; she forced his hand. In all actuality, he wasn’t just moving them around for Rachel. Bane is still on the move trying to steal and harbor chemicals and the next CEO he was planning on visiting had made it obvious they were going to the Gotham Ballet. So… kill two birds with one stone. 

Next episode we’ll see Bruce and Y/N “happen upon” each other at the Ocelot. Maybe old flings don’t need to be flung anymore. It’s time for something new and hot (like birthday candles :D)

Also, this was not edited so sorry, I'm MIA this week. I just scheduled this in advance to keep y'all fed this week.

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky

[oliveisme533]

part one: a really good dad

You had Ellie when you were 18 years old and the father was not the greatest. Surprise surprise… he wanted nothing to do with you and this new baby once he found out you were pregnant. Flash forward 10 years and you enrolled Ellie in a local soccer legue where she meets Sarah. Sarah and Ellie quickly become thick as thieves and naturally want to have play dates. Of course this means getting to know Sarah’s dad . It’s not long until the very handsome Joel Miller asks you on a date. You date for 6 months before he pops the question. Everyone thought it was too fast, everyone except for Ellie and Sarah (and you two of course) but you didn’t care. This little family of 4 was everything to you. 6 years later you’re still happily married to your Joel, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

It was late when you got home from work. Joel’s truck was already in the driveway and the girls should both be at home at this point. You open the front door with a sigh. “Hey mama” Ellie calls from the couch. You walk over to kiss her head “Dad’s upstairs with Sarah” she said without looking away from the television. You set your bags down on the kitchen counter, slipped off your heels and carried them up the steps. You dragged your body towards your bedroom, but on your way there you passed Sarah’s room. Joel lay in bed with her, one hand gently rubbing her back as she rested her head on his chest. It looked like she had been crying. “Well hey baby girl” you said softly as you stepped into the room. You met your husband’s eyes trying to gain any sort of intel. He mouthed the word “cramps.” Truthfully, you should have guessed. All the women in this house had long since synced up and poor Sarah always struggled with very intense periods. “You need anything, bug?” You asked as you gently tucked a curl behind her ear. She shook her head. You turned your attention to your husband and bent down to peck his lips. “I’ll be in in a minute sweetheart.” He assured you“Okay, I’m going to shower” “Without me?” Joel called teasingly. “Joel!” You warned from across the hall. Sarah slapped her dad’s chest. “Don’t be gross, dad.” Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “You act like a damn 22 year old boy.” You often told him.

As promised, by the time you were out of the shower Joel was in your bedroom. “Is that girl still down there playing video games?” You asked. Joel shrugged and retreated to the top of the steps. “Ellie..” “what?” “TV needs to be off in 30 minutes.” “Yes sir.”

“Long day?” He asked from behind you as you brushed your teeth. You nodded “yeah…I’m so fucking tired. Girls have an okay day at school from what you can tell?” Joel, who was now putting toothpaste on his toothbrush responded. “Yeah ‘course baby. We got good girls.” You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. We sure do.” You put your hand on Joel’s ass “what about you? You behave today.” Joel shook his head. “Nahuh” he still made you laugh after all these years. “Well I’m sorry to hear that. I hope tomorrow will be better.” The two of you climbed into bed wordlessly on your respective sides. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his warm chest as his arms wrapped around you. This was your favorite part of your nighttime routine. Joel rubbed your back as you melted into the mattress. Your eyes fluttered shut and you were almost asleep- “no, I told you these are my shin guards I don’t know where yours are!” “I have a game in the morning just let me borrow them!” “We both have a game in the morning, Ellie! You need to find your own shit!” You and Joel both groaned. “Girls!” Joel called without moving from his current position. Moments later your bedroom door was opened by two grumpy teenagers. “Dad I told her- no I didn’t even try and take yours- that’s not what you said!” Joel held up his hand. “Enough! Both of you! Your game isn’t until 11 tomorrow. Ellie get up at a decent time tomorrow morning and find your shin guards and quit bickering with each other! Or if you’re going to do it, do it quietly.” You kicked Joel from under the blanket. “Never mind. Your mother says no fighting.” “You girls both need to get some rest, it’s been a long day. We love you.” You said to the girls. They muttered “good nights” and “we love you too” before closing the door again. Probably 20 minutes later you heard giggling coming from their rooms. You shook your head and smiled “sisters…You wouldn’t get it.” “You’re right. I certainly don’t get it” Joel responded. He resumed rubbing your back and you were asleep in minutes

————

Joe’s POV

In your slumber, the two of you had detangled and were now sleeping on your own sides of the bed. The door creaked open and in tiptoed a hyperventilating Ellie. Joel sat upright. He was always the first to wake up…his wife was an incredibly heavy sleeper. “Baby, breathe, breathe. Com’ere” he stretched out his hands to his beloved step daughter. He didn’t see her that way though, he saw her as his own just as much as he saw Sarah as his own. Ellie had been dealing with these panick attacks for a couple of years. Joel pulled her in squeezing her tightly. This was the only thing that calmed her down. Joel wrapped his arms around his Ellie as he cood “shh s’alright baby girl. I’ve got you.” he straightened out her pajama shirt and gently rubbed her back. Damn…every poor woman in this house is falling apart tonight. Joel thought to himself. Ellie’s breathes were slowing with the firm pressure from Joel’s arms. Joel sat there with the girl in his lap, rocking ever so slightly. She nuzzled her face into his shirt. “Ya know I used to do this with Sarah too” Joel whispered. “Really?” Ellie whispered back. “Yeah only difference is, she was 6 months old not 16.” “Heyy” Joel’s chuckle rumbled through his chest “you know I’m only teasin’ baby, if my girls still need to be rocked when they’re 26 I’ll do that too.” He kissed Ellie’s head. “Cmon let’s get you in bed. Your mamas had a long day and I don’t want to wake her.”

In Ellie’s room Joel turned on the fairy lights that were strung around her bed. After tucking her in he handed her one of the stuffed animals he had got her probably years ago. “Mr. Bunny is awfully sad that he hasn’t been snuggled in awhile” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Dad I’m not 5” she took the stuffy anyway and tucked it under her arm. “Goodnight baby girl” he gently kissed her forehead and tiptoed from the room. On hard nights like these he always left her door slightly opened. Back in their bedroom Joel sighed. Now he was fucking exhausted. He left their bedroom door open too, in case Ellie needed them again. He looked lovingly at his wife who was still passed out cold. She deserved a good nights sleep. Hell, he deserved one too!

I’m not sure how many chapters I’ll write of this. I plan on making them so they can be read as independent stories :)

[thescribblesofreverie]

WIP Excerpt - Aaron Hotchner x teen!reader

I thought I would share just a little snippet of a project I'm working on. It's a series about Aaron meeting a teenager on a case who ends up being involved, and there's just something so familiar about her...

Reader does use she/her pronouns.

Everyone had that one touchy subject that seemed to bring back memories of events and cases past. Everyone knew that J.J. was the one who was affected by cases involving children. 

But this time it was Hotch who felt his chest restrict with each new fact presented. With every body found the pressure of solving this case felt ten times heavier on his shoulders.

On his nightstand, the alarm clock’s neon blue numbers read 3:22 A.M. He was pacing around the hotel room, mind racing a mile a minute. The facts and theories of the case were incredibly confusing. Everytime the team got close, something drastic changed and they were at square one.

Four young, innocent girls were dead, and a fifth was going to be soon if they didn’t shape up.

Hotch glanced out the window of the third story room to see a small diner in the plaza across the street. On its left there was a tobacco store with big yellow block lettering covering the window pains with advertisements promoting vapes and discounted cartons of Mavericks. To its right there was a laundromat, with a few letters of the sign tilted from rusted out nails crumbling away instead of holding it fast. The glowing blue and pink sign on the diner read “open 24 hours”, though it flickered out every few seconds. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he sighed.

Nothing was getting done in this small room, and the diner would have coffee. He had heard before the coffee from 24 hour diners was always better. He doubted that to be true, but at least it would be caffeinated. 

He grabbed the coat off of the chair in the corner of the room, and quietly left, locking the door behind him.

It was a short walk across the street. He pushed open the door, and a bell jingled.

Soft sounds of 70’s music filled his ears. His eyes found a pastel yellow and mint green jukebox in the corner. It was your typical retro themed diner. Checkerboard flooring, blue and pink booths and tables, milkshake decals on the wall, and a long bar that a waitress was cleaning with a rag. With the typical 50’s decorations and colors, but 70’s music playing and newspapers from the 80’s on the wall, the establishment seemed to lack a general knowledge on what decade it was supposed to be emulating. Nonetheless, there was a pot of coffee sitting behind the counter, and it wasn’t like this was the strangest 3 A.m. experience he had ever had. 

Hotch looked away and sat at the counter, waiting patiently for the waitress to meander her way over to him. She finished wiping down the section of counter she had been working on and dropped the rag in a basket beneath the counter. Finally, she looked over at him.

20-24 year old girl, medium build, round face, brown eyes, umber skin, and dark black waves of hair. She shouldn’t be working alone at night, he thought. Not with a killer on the loose.

“What can I get for you?” She asked, all but rolling her eyes. Her name tag said “Marisa”. 

“Just a coffee please.” He said quietly.

“Black?”

He nodded.

As she went across the room to fill up a mug, he took a moment to revel in the peace he rarely got to feel while on a case.

The soft lighting and low music was almost comforting, in an odd way. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Marisa set the mug of steaming coffee in front of him. “Just brewed a new pot, so you’re lucky.”

“Thanks-”

The jingling of the door interrupted him. 

“Marisa, darling!” A feminine voice cooed. 

The waitress had a look of annoyance flash across her face before she quickly covered and plastered on a smile.

“Julie, welcome in. Go ahead and take your usual booth. I’ll get you a coffee and… I’m so sorry sweetheart, what’s your name again?”

“Y/N. I’ll have orange juice, please.” 

At the mention of her name Hotch looked over his shoulder. Y/N was dressed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. Her shoulders were hunched and as she sat down in the both, she immediately curled into the corner, like it was supporting her. Dark circles hung under her eyes and as he watched, she put a hand up to her mouth to hide a yawn.

It was early Thursday morning. And unless there was something going on that he didn’t know about, she had school in four hours. What was she doing up?

[not-wrong-just-different]

Hello Questies!!

This post has been a long time coming, and here it finally is. Willow, and more importantly, the Willow Fandom, changed my life, so, thank you all for everything!

Now Presenting…

How to Get a Girlfriend by Watching Willow 2022:

Step 1. See gif of Kit on top of Jade when she was saying goodbye like on Pinterest.

Step 2. Figure out the name of the show with the hot girls.

Step 3. Rewatch the original Willow.

Step 4. Watch Willow 2022

Step 5. Realize that the feelings about other women that you have been suppressing since you were 17 are coming back to bite you in the ass.

Step 6. Reject compulsory heterosexuality.

Step 7. Call your best friend in a panic.

Step 8. Try for weeks to try to get anyone you know to watch Willow. Fail.

Step 9. Sign back into an old tumblr account and start following people just as obsessed as you are.

Step 10. Read horny fanfic. A LOT of hot horny fanfic.

Step 11. Get your best friend so fed up with you that she invited you to an LGBTQIA+ friendly community event more than an hour away just so she doesn’t have to be the only person hearing about Willow anymore.

Step 12. Make lifelong friends!!

Step 13. After several months of trying to convince people to watch Willow literally steal the TV hookup and force people to watch it.

Step 14. Share the link to the Free Willow website in the Facebook group chat so everyone can watch more episodes.

Step 15. Get private Facebook message from girl wanting to talk about Willow.

Step 16. Make friends with said girl and get a huge crush.

Step 17. Start hanging out outside of group events.

Step 18. Be awkward.

Step 19. Continue to be awkward for several months until one half of the friend group pulls you aside, and one half pulls her aside and endure an intervention.

Step 20. Ask girl on date. (She says yes!!)

Step 21. Go on date and realize that despite the fact that there are over 12 years of university between the two of you, that you both read dozens of the same articles on Reddit and Quora about how to act on a first date, since neither of you have had one before.

Step 22. Get mutually pissed off at the lack of official peer reviewed research on how to have a healthy relationship. Decide to work on writing and publishing together. (So far, the only thing actually peer reviewed is our relationship, which only started due to peer review.)

Step 23. Make plans for more dates.

Step 24. Be happy!!!

Step 25. Realize that communication is hard and misunderstandings suck after reading more horny Willow fanfic.

Step 26. Write 5 page love letter in proper MLA Epistle format and give to girl.

Step 27. Become official girlfriends!

Step 28. Receive photos of her extensive collection of swords and blades.

Step 28b. Implode. (Like seriously. It was SO hot.)

Step 29. After being girlfriends for two months, bring up Willow again and find out that she doesn’t actually care that much about Willow?!?!?!!!! She likes it but was mostly using it as an excuse to talk to you?!?

Step 30. Consider breaking up with girl (not really!!) because she isn’t actually as obsessed with Willow as you are.

Step 31. Decide to share your gratitude with the ongoing Willow fandom for changing your life instead of worrying about making everyone in your life love it as much as you do. 😂

————

Thanks to the creators who helped me work through the emotions of steps 5 and 6 and those who helped with steps 10 and 25. @ksfreckles @geek-and-nina @ourlonelymoon @commanderbuffy @acre-of-wheat @wigster07 @vetiverriver @barmaid-anon @swashbucklery @spybrarian @isabrella @lowkeyed1 @savewillow2022 and so many others!

While I’m at it: Thanks to @ourlonelymoon for reminding me I don’t have to earn help, @acre-of-wheat for helping me remember that being on the spectrum doesn’t make me unloveable (and for reminding me that letter writing is valid communication) @commanderbuffy for proving that love isn’t just for teenagers, @wigster07 for showing second chances and that character growth requires tons of hard work @geek-and-nina for perfectly portraying the emotions and joy of falling in love, and @ksfreckles for being the first person I talked to online and for writing the story that means everything to me.

Thank you Willow Fandom and Willow Creators! I do not know where I would be today if it wasn’t for my lovely, Willow-obsessed online community. 💕 ⚔️ 😉

[apoemaday]

What Women Deserve

by Sonya Renee Taylor

Culturally-diversified biracial girl with a small diamond nose ring and a pretty smile poses besides the words “Women Deserve Better”. and I almost let her non-threatening grin begin to infiltrate my psyche until I read the unlikely small print at the bottom of the ad: Sponsored by the US Secretariat for Pro-Life Activities and the Knights of Columbus On a bus in a city with a population of 553,000, 4 teenage mothers on the bus with me, 1 Latina woman with 3 children under 3 and no signs of a daddy. One sixteen-year-old black girl standing in 22-degree weather with only a sweater a book bag and a bassinet, with an infant that ain’t even four weeks yet tell me that Yes… Women do deserve better. Women deserve better than public transportation rhetoric from the same people who won’t give that teenage mother a ride to the next transit. Won’t let you talk to their kids about safer sex Have never had to listen as the door SLAMS behind the man who adamantly says, “That shit” ain’t his leaving her to wonder how she’ll raise this kid. Women deserve better than the 300 dollars TANF and AFC will provide that family of three or the 6 dollar an hour job at KFC with no benefits for her new baby or the college degree she may never see because you can’t have infants at the university Women deserve better than lip service paid for by politicians who have no alternatives to abortion though I am sure right this moment one of their seventeen-year-old daughters is sitting in a clinic lobby sobbing quietly and anonymously praying parents don’t find out or will be waiting for mom to pick her up because research shows that out-of-wedlock childbirth doesn’t look good on political polls and Daddy ain’t having that. Women deserve better than backwards governmental policies that don’t want to pay for welfare for kids or healthcare for kids or childcare for kids Don’t want to pay living wages to working mothers, Don’t want to make men who only want to be last night’s lovers responsible for the semen they lay. Flat out don’t want to pay for SHIT but want to control the woman who’s having it. Acting outraged at abortion. Well I’m outraged that they want us to believe that they believe that women deserve better. The Vatican won’t prosecute pedophile priests But I decide I’m not ready for motherhood and it’s condemnation for me These are the same people who won’t support national condom distribution to prevent teenage pregnancy. But women deserve better. Women deserve better than back-alley surgeries that leave our wombs barren and empty. Deserve better than organizations bearing the name of land-stealing racist rapists funding million dollar campaigns on subway trains with no money to give these women while balding middle-aged white men tell us what to do with our bodies while they wage wars and kill other people’s babies So maybe women deserve better than propaganda and lies to get into office Propaganda and lies to get into panties to get out of court to get out of paying child support Get the hell out of our decisions and give us back our voice Women do deserve better Women deserve choice

[ouiouibaguettt]

Not so secret now?

Ingrid engen x Vera Nilsson (oc!)

warning: none i think / just slight kiss 

not so sure about this one

Masterlist

─ ⋅◈⋅ ━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━ ⋅◈⋅ ── ⋅◈⋅ ━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━ ⋅◈⋅ ─

Narrator’s POV:

Vera Nilsson, our 22 year old Swedish prodigy, arrived at FC Barcelona in the 2020/2021 season and played her magic and won the hearts of the fans and the team.  She was a great help for the victory in the Champions League having made 2 assists and a goal but this one was offside.

//

The 18th of October 2021, is a very important date for Vera and Ingrid. The Swedish and Norwegian youngsters have become very close since Ingrid joined the team this summer. After two months of flirting they talked and got together on this date.

They were like a couple of teenagers. Soft kisses, shy caresses, they showed their love in private but when they went out with the team they were just best friends in the eyes of everyone. But looks don't deceive, they weren't as discreet as they seemed. For example, when a guy or girl comes up to Ingrid and flirts with her, Vera will stare at the person and automatically force a smile and say that everything is fine when Mapi and Leila decide to question her about the looks.

//

On 21st May 2021, it is the Champions League final in Turin. Vera was really nervous, as tonight's match was against Olympique Lyonnais. This team has already won the competition 7 times. As she and Ingrid do their a pre-match ritual, Vera sat in front of the Norwegian who was sitting in her seat, Ingrid did the young Swedish girl's hair. It was a way of expressing their sweet words like "I love you, and you're going to be amazing on the field" or "no matter what you do, I'll always be proud of you".

//

Vera couldn't believe it, the team had lost. She was frozen, that's what the rest of the team thought when they saw Vera sitting on the floor with her eyes fixed on the goal where she missed her shots that were so precious. According to her, it's all her fault if she had managed to put them in tonight would have been different. Still staring at the goals, she paid no attention to Ingrid, who came to land in front of her.

//

Vera's POV:

"It's all my fault, I let the team down, I didn't do the club and the shirt justice, I'm a disgrace" I said through my shirt while holding back the tears.

"No, you're not, Min kärlek, you did the best you could, okay? I’m really proud of you. You don’t have to carry the whole weight of the team all by yourself you know. And we're a team, as we often say, we win together and we lose together so don't worry, we'll get the trophy back next season. " Ingrid said, putting her hands on my cheek so that I could finally meet her gaze, a gaze filled with love.

"Stop looking at me like that" I say, turning red. "Like what?" she said. "Like you want to kiss me in front of all these people, and you know very well that I won't reject you” I say. “Vera?” she says. “Yeah?” I say. She look at me before she leans in and her lips met mines. After what seemed like an eternity, we pulled away to put our foreheads together.

“Not so secret now are you?” we heard Mapi and Leila ask.

“I guess not” I say locking eyes with Ingrid. “jeg liker deg” says the norwegian. “jeg elsker deg også“ I say with a little smile who had appeared taking the place of the frowns on my face.

We did loose tonight, but I ended up winning the love of my girl. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Lyon we'll see each other again don't worry.

─ ⋅◈⋅ ━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━ ⋅◈⋅ ── ⋅◈⋅ ━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━ ⋅◈⋅ ─

Min kärlek (swd) = my love (eng)

jeg liker deg (nwg) = i love you (eng)

jeg elsker deg også (nwg) = i love you too (eng)

[nortism]

doctor who liveblog pt 22

s4 ep10 midnight

- i’m glad donna’s getting a nice holiday

- COLIN MORGAN OF BBC MERLIN FAME??! katie mcgrath next pls

- “ladies and gentlemen and variations thereupon”

- ROSE ON THE TVVVVVVV

- oh god was she possessed

- FUCK SHES REPEATING LIKE THE THING OUTSIDE

- SHE GOT HIS VOICE

- that was such a good episode, genuinely unsettling

s4 ep11 turn left

- omg are we in a country that’s not the uk?? i didn’t know the tardis knew how to do that 😭😭

- oh never mind they’re on a different planet, should have known

- and billie piper!!

- oh the doctor’s dead

- get the screwdriver donna!!

- ROSE TYLER!!!!!!!!!!

- oh she’s vanished

- donna’s so funny

- NO MARTHA’S DEAD this sucks

- SARAH JANE SMITH’S DEAD?!?! this au is awful

- ROSE

- i love donna’s grandad so much it’s not even funny

- london’s gone??? thank god the world is free!

- not leeds

- uh oh america

- ROSE

- oh fuck jack as well

- oh great, now the uk is turning into nazi germany

- that’s a big old bug

- rip alternate universe donna

- BAD WOLF?!?!?!!????

- shitttttt

s4 ep12 the stolen earth

- oh fucj the earth’s gone

- MARTHA

- ohh fuck the companions r all gonna come together

- ROSE WITH A GIANT GUN WOOOO

- oh yeah the whole gang in the opening credits

- oh great we’re gonna find out what a shadow proclamation is

- ofc the british are celebrating the end of the world by drinking and rioting

- ofc it’s the fucking daleks

- i feel like there was easy ways to exterminate the human race i won’t lie

- the crucible?? always with the religious imagery

- idk if i trust the space cops

- not the rhinos again

- ohhhh they’re building a mega planet

- for what it’s worth, i trust martha to save the world. she’s done it before

- NO MARTHA

- the loss that is yet to come???

- also which god??

- BEES ARE ALIENS?!?!

- i knew i couldn’t trust the space cops

- ROSE

- when he was a 90 year old teenage girl

- HARRIET JONES MY LOVE

- yay martha’s alive

- aww rose is jealous

- is everyone here a jones?

- HARRIET NOOOOOO

- he’s still thinking about rose 😭😭

- jfc what is that

- ewww

- FUCKING DALEKS RUINING MY REUNION

- oh my polycule did reunite, just under the worst circumstances possible

- FUCK HES REGENERATING ALREADY

- noooo sarah jane

- whatttt

s4 ep13 journey’s end

- did he just regenerate back into david tennant???

- MICKEYYYYYYYYY

- JACKIEEEEEEEE

- oh the whole gang is back together i missed them 😭😭😭

- oh donna i love u

- they gotta stop leaving the tardis lying around!!!

- that’s nice of the daleks to translate for different countries

- that���s a lotta daleks

- donna?!!

- DONNA?!?!!??

- hello is donna regenerating?!?!

- ITS ANOTHER DOCTOR?!?!?

- dw rose this is just an avg day for jack

- nah is the new doctor technically donna and the doctor’s child???

- pls leave my girl and her mummy issues alone

- oh they’re soulmates

- when did martha learn german??

- oh yeah on her world tour

- it would be cool if they subtitled the german bc i’m getting none of this

- not loving the sound of a reality bomb

- omg they’re disintegrating

- oh so we’re destroying all matter now???

- won’t this also destroy the daleks??

- apparently not

- SHES GONNA BLOW UP THE EARTH

- oh fuck the whole gang’s been teleported

- it’s up to u now donna

- uh oh rip the other doctor

- uh oh rip donna

- this is a bit awkward

- YES FHEN DONNA

- the doctordonna

- SHES PART TIMELORD?!

- they oppenheimer-ed him

- K9!!!

- finally an explanation for why he sucks a flying the tardis so much, he needs more guys

- he’s got the biggest family on earth 😭😭

- she’s getting her own doctor?!

- aww she got her kiss?? i think aww?! this is a weird situation all round

- oh no donna’s malfunctioning

- wait what

- is she fucking dead

- HER MIND’S BEEN WIPED!!?!?!

- awww she’s forgotten him

- this is so sad

- aww granddad

- jesus that was bleak