#I’m pretty sure it’s in English city of Winchester

[single-brain-celled-supervillain]

I FUCKING KNOW WHERE THIS IS AND ITS ONE OF THE BEST BOOKSHOPS OVER EVER BEEN TO

[supernatural-freek]

Park Avenue

Dean x Sister!Reader, Sam x Sister!Reader

Synopsis: It’s game night in the Bunker. Dean takes it a little too seriously. Sam and Cas are there to win. You’re honestly just there for the food.

REQUESTED

MASTERLIST

See, the thing is, Dean’s pretty fucking bad at Monopoly.

Consider also: he’s a sore loser and can spend hours bitching about the fact that he lost.

So, as per Sam’s brilliant suggestion, you play Monopoly. Because it’s always nice to fucking destroy Dean at something. Cas tags along for the ride, because he doesn’t quite understand Monopoly yet, but he can play better than Dean and he enjoys being the little thimble. He also enjoys the houses.

Dean lands in jail in the first round.

“motherfucker!” He seethes, slamming his piece (the little dog, of course, and he literally drew blood to obtain that piece, you have the marks to prove it) down on the board hard enough to rattle the others. “What kind of bullshit is this?” “Sucks to suck, Dean.”

“Just wait until we get to Scrabble. I’ll obliterate you.”

“You gotta get out of jail first, bro.”

Dean snuffs and curses and he doesn’t hit anything, but it’s a near thing. You have a bet running with Sam that tonight will be the night that Dean breaks a beer bottle against the wall. You’re gonna make sure you win that bet. If you win, Sam owes you soooooo many fucking milkshakes.

Anyway. 

Typically, by the time someone is clearly winning (Sam), the game is already falling apart. Cas is trying to build a city out of the houses, you and Dean are playing go fish with your property cards, and Dean is casually suggesting you use the Monopoly money for poker.

Sam claims the victory before the game is over. Nobody fights him. Cas doesn’t put this thimble away. “I identify with this object,” he says, but he won’t tell you why he identifies with a fucking thimble. Dean just gives you a long-suffering look and helps pack up.

.

There’s a common misconception that Sam is the book-smart sibling of the Winchester trio. It’s all a lie. A conspiracy fed to the world by God. Because you sit Dean down in front of a Scrabble board and he pulls out shit like quixotic and equalise and syzygy.

It’s pretty fucking awful if you’re honest. 

Dean wins by a landslide.

Nobody wants to play another round.

.

Of course, board games can only hold the appeal for so long. There’s only so many times you can fail at the English language, only so many times you can go bankrupt, only so many times you can pay trouble before the dice dome thing starts to get hit a little too hard. Cas doesn’t even want to play properly. He just marches his men along, humming a low tune to keep them in time. It’s adorable.

It defeats the point of the game.

So Dean busts out the Wii, puts in Mario Kart, and then all hell breaks loose.

“Fuck you!” You screech as you topple off the edge of Rainbow Road and plummet towards death in a ball of angry fire. “Dean, we are the same team!”

Dean cackles as he crosses the finish line in first place, seconds before the blue shell makes contact. “Sorry girlie, but I’m a one-man machine!”

Your character, Yoshi obviously, crosses in third, and you toss your remote down on the sofa only to launch yourself at your brother. Dean laughs as he lets out are him down, playfully wresting with you on the floor as Sam gently coaxes Cas along in 11th place and 12th place respectively. 

“This is a very visually appealing track,” Cas says pleasantly as Princess Peach meanders along the road. “I can see why this one was chosen first.”

Sam has restrained murder in his voice when he says, “Castiel, you’re my friend and I would hate to have to burn your body. Hurry up.”

Cas does not hurry up. 

Dean elbows you in the face. You bite at his wrist. He yanks your hair. You kick his thigh. It’s really rather aggressive but you’re both breathless from hysterical laughter, so it’s all okay. Because Dean’s grip isn’t restrictive, it’s grounding, more like a damn bear hug than any type of trapping hold he’s used on people before. He’s warm, and comfortable, and you settle your weight somewhat awkwardly on him as you both watch Cas cross the finish line.

Princess Peach wails with dismay. Cas turns to you and Dean with the brightest smile and says, “I like this game. Perhaps we can choose another track that had a strong aesthetic?”

Sam selects Maple Treeway. You and Dean scramble up from the ground, diving for the remotes as the timer counts down. 

“Sorry Deano,” you say meanly as you launch away from the starting line. “Maple Treeway is my shit.”

He knocks you with his foot and Yoshi skids off to the side. “Wait until we get to Koopa Kape,” he mutters, looking very angry at being in 4th. “I swear if you beat me at the end, I’m going to fill all of your shampoo bottles with permanent dye.”

“Jokes on you,” you shoot back, laying down a perfect trap with your three banana peels. “I change the colour of my hair weekly. I’ll be totally down for whatever colour you’re gonna try and get me with.”

Dean curses and chooses to ram you off the road. 

You take that motherfucker down with you.

.

Neither you nor Dean come first overall. King Boo, the dumbass ghost, cheers on the podium. Yoshi dances in second place. Waluigi (Dean), Peach (Cas) and Daisy (Sam) watch jealously from the sideline.

“Sucks to suck,” you sing-song, only for Dean’s socked foot to connect with your ribs. “Hey!”

Before the two of you can start grappling again, Sam clears his throat. “I think we’ve worn our resident angel out,” he says softly, gently taking Cas’s remote from his hand. 

The angel clearly isn’t fully asleep, but his eyes are closed and his breathing is steady and slow. He looks peaceful, dressed in some of Dean’s old slacks and one of Sam’s shirts instead of his suit.

You reach over and gently comb Cas’s hair away from his face. “He’s adorable,” you coo.

Dean rolls his eyes and tugs you back, taking your place and gently shaking Cas awake. “Come on,” he says, too gruffly to be anything but fond. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Cas grumbles a complaint, but easily follows Dean’s hands up off the couch, stumbling after the hunter as Dean guides him down the hallway. Sam shakes his head with a small huff, switching off the Wii and starting to clear the remotes and empty snack dishes.

“Here,” you say, joining him. You clean the rubbish up as Sam takes a stack of plates back to the kitchen. Someone will do the dishes tomorrow. You gather the empty beer bottles and sweep them into your arms, carrying them to the bin and dumping them with a loud crash.

Sam bids you a warm goodnight, pressing a swift kiss to your forehead before ambling away to his room. You blow out a breath before dragging yourself to Cas’s room. Dean’s still there, tucking the angel in.

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle any sounds you might make, because it’s just so damn cute! You know that Dean’s a mother hen, despite his attempts to suppress that softness. He cares for his fucked up family, and if that isn’t the sweetest thing...

“Your turn for bed, missy,” he says once he’s made sure Case is comfortable. The angel is already dropping back off the sleep, head snuggling into the soft pillows. Dean snorts and eases the door closed behind him. “You reckon you can use those puppy dog eyes of yours tomorrow, get Sam to do the dishes?”

You pout. “But Dean, the kitchen is your area.” He gently taps the back of your head. “Ow! Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

He slings an arm around your shoulder and draws you close as you walk. “Good. That’s what I thought.”

You remember getting back to your room, remember someone helping you taking your socks off before the simpleness of warmth. Hands easing the covers over you, a palm gently smoothing your hair back and knuckles soothing down the side of your face. 

A gentle press of lips to your forehead, just to the side of where Sam had planted his kiss, and then the light turns out and you sink into the soft darkness of sleep, content.

[deans-mind-palace]

Suspirium (Pt.2)

Pairing: Prof!Sam x Reader

Summary: You’re in your last year of your Classics and Mordern Languages studies and you're majoring in Latin and English. Then you get assigned to a different Latin teacher. And damn, he loves his subject. Too bad that he’s also hot. What is just a childish crush soon develops into something way more complicated.

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: None, yet.

Author’s Note: Second chap, guys. And our first meeting with Sam. ;) Enjoy and show it some love.

Suspirium - Masterlist

Your alarm clock rang exactly at 8.30 the next morning and you still had time to get ready for your 10 o'clock lecture with Professor Winchester and get a coffee at the little café around the corner of your flat. You had escaped from the dormitory since the third semester and now lived in your own four walls. You earned your living by waiting tables at a well-known restaurant in town.

You locked the door behind you and leaned against it for a moment while breathing in the fresh morning air. The dew of autumn was still on the green meadows and it was pleasantly warm. Birds were chirping and the sun was shining its golden glow on the slowly colouring leaves. A smile crept up your lips. It was the perfect second day of your senior year at college. And you wanted to enjoy it. This was going to be your year.

"Carpe diem. Seize the day." you mumbled with a smile before you shouldered your bag and walked off. Your flat was a little further away from college and you were finally going to get your coffee. A few minutes later, you entered your favorite café and inhaled the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cookies. There wasn't much going on, because it was more of an insider tip. Most students got their coffee at Starbucks in the city or directly in the cafeteria. You joined the queue. Then your cell phone started ringing. Surprised, you rummaged through your bag but couldn't find it and instead your notebook fell out. Quickly you bent down to pick it up when it already happened. A man ran into you and poured his hot coffee over you.

You swore unpleasantly when the coffee ruined your white top. The hot coffee ran down your hands and dripped to the floor. You gasped indignantly for breath. "Damn it!" you cursed and reached for a napkin to wipe your hands. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry! I-I didn't see you, and..." you heard a deep voice stammer nervously. You sighed in annoyance. "It's all right." You muttered, but when you looked up, you paused in amazement. Your gaze caught in the most beautiful hazel eyes you had ever seen. He was in his early thirties, wearing a light-grey knitted sweater and underneath it the collar of a white shirt was sticking out. Long brown hair framed his striking face and you saw the worry in his eyes. "I -" He fell silent and bent down to pick up your notebook and wiped it on his trousers. "Here." He handed it to you and looked at you with an embarrassed look. "Thank you." "I'm really so sorry. I'll pay for the damages. I'm, uh... I'm Sam." He offered you his hand, which you took in a trance. "Hi. I'm Y/N," you said, forcing you to smile. He returned it a little shyly, and you melted away. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. I - uh. I should really get going. I'd love to buy you a cup of coffee. As an apology. O-or a tea. Or whatever you like." You wiped the smirk off your face because of his clumsiness. He was really embarrassed.

He took one glance at his watch and cursed. "I really have to go now. The offer for the coffee stands, Y/N. I'll see you then." he said goodbye in a hurry and ran off. As quickly as he came, he was gone. You watched him hurry down the street while his brown hair flew in the wind until he turned the corner and you lost sight of him. Only then did you realize that you didn't know how to find him again.  He hadn't given you his number or anything.

With a sigh you took a look at the mess on your shirt. Your lecture would begin in a few minutes. But you had to change urgently, because you couldn't show up in class like that. The new professor would throw you out on your ass if you appeared like this in his lecture! The day could only get better from now on.

You arrived at the lecture almost twenty minutes late. Quietly you looked for a place further in the back and began to take your things out of your bag and put them on the table. You listened to the lecture with half an ear only.

"We will devote this year mainly to epics. Aeneas, Odysseus and Iliad. We will also take a closer look at Latin poetry. Please obtain the following books on Catullus and Ovid. I can recommend Latin for the Illiterati edition 2. As a dictionary I ask you to use this one." You had eagerly taken notes and now for the first time raised your eyes to see which book the professor meant. You almost choked when you saw the man in the front of the lecture hall. Your breath stopped. There was Sam! The Sam who had just spilled coffee on you. His gaze wandered over the students, and when he got stuck on you, the book almost fell out of his hand. He just caught it again and cleared his throat embarrassed.

"Do you have any more questions about the topics we're going to study?" he asked around and you noticed the pink blush on his cheeks. He avoided looking in your direction for the rest of the lecture. Embarrassment and shame circulated in your body and you concentrated on making a proper transcript so as not to have to look up again. Awkward. Your professor had just spilled coffee over you and finally invited you in for coffee! The worst thing was that you found him really cute. You would like to say that this feeling had died, but unfortunately he was still pretty hot.

Your professor's coughing tore you from your confused thoughts. "I'm glad you all could come in such large numbers today. The lesson today served as an introduction. Please purchase the requested materials with which we will work until the next lecture. Then we will begin with Catullus. I look forward to the year with you. That's it for today." he concluded today's lecture. Immediately your fellow students began to pack up, but you stayed and watched as Professor Winchester brushed the brown strands of hair from his face and collected his personal belongings.

The lecture hall emptied slowly and then Professor Winchester looked up. You summoned up all your courage and walked over to him. Hurriedly he took the sheet of paper with the names and looked for your first name to find out your full name. "Ms L/N. How can I help you?" he asked a little louder as the last student left the hall. "It's about the coffee, Sa- Professor Winchester." He nodded and smiled at you politely, albeit restrained. "Of course. What is it?" he asked while turning off the beamer and stowing the remote control. "I wasn't sure if you were still- I mean, if this is somehow weird for you, then-" You fell silent nervously, searching for the right words. "Don't worry, Ms. L/N. Professors and students are allowed to have coffee together. I promised to return the favor, and I keep my promises. So the offer still stands. If that's not a problem for you?" He questioned. You nodded and thought for a moment. It certainly couldn't hurt to get to know your professor a little better, after all you had to get along with him all year round. It certainly wouldn't be conducive to have such an embarrassing event standing between the two of you.

"Um, well - yes, of course. When would it be best for you?" you asked and gave him a smile, which he returned immediately. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and went through his schedule. "I have my first lecture tomorrow around 8.30am," he said. "How about 10:00 at Old Queen's?" You shook your head regretfully. "My classes start at 9:45. So maybe 2:00 then?" This time it was up to him to shake his head. "Ah, I'm afraid I can't do that. How about 4:00?" You nodded slowly. "Yes, I can do that." He smiled at you again and put his phone away.

"Well, I'm looking forward to it,  Y/N - uh, Ms L/N." He looked away embarrassed and cleared his throat. Your name sounded special when he pronounced it with his deep voice, but you ignored the warm feeling in your stomach. "Me too. I'll see you there?" "Yeah, sure. " For a moment there was an awkward silence between you, where neither of you knew what to say, then you started talking at the same time. "Cool." "So then-" You broke it off laughing. "You first," he said laughing. You noticed how his beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners and that his nose turned slightly up, when he laughed. "See you, then. Have a nice day, Professor." "Thank you, Ms. L/N. I'll see you tomorrow."

Your thoughts rushed through your mind as you left the lecture hall in a hurry, leaving Sam Winchester behind.

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[trekkienatural]

hello friend!! i would like to know about your fic because you deserve good things in life!!!!

"Okay basically, Cas and Dean are pen pals and they live in the same city, but they don’t know it. The chapters will alternate between letters and their lives, and eventually (i’m talking like 20 chapters in) they find out they live in the same city. They both agree to not go looking for each other because the pen pal thing is working and they like it. Problem is, they accidentally run into each other at either a bookstore, a cafe, or a bar (haven’t decided yet). Neither knows what the other looks like so they don’t say anything but they end up having a nice short conversation, but nothing more. Cas writes about the cute guy with the pretty green eyes that he met and Dean’s like “wait what that was me” and they decide to fuck it and meet up, intentionally this time. (This is like, chapter 25 at this point) They spend a solid two or three chapters being nervous and blushy and getting ready and Sam’s just like “oh my god you’re finally going to meet the guy you’ve been in love with for god only knows how long” meanwhile gabriel is like “you’re in love you fucking idiot” oh but it actually might be 40 chapters in because i’m going to pepper in A LOT of backstory jhsfglkjhdflkjg and when they meet up it goes really well and all and they exchange numbers and promise to keep writing letters so they do and they don’t meet up again for a couple weeks but one day dean texts and asks if he wants to grab a beer and cas says sure and blah blah blah dean has to stay with cas for the night (haven’t thought of an excuse yet) but cas only has one bed (can you see where this is going) and dean’s like “i refuse to let you sleep on the couch” and cas is like “i refuse to let you sleep on the couch” so they end up sharing the bed and they wake up cuddling and dean absolutely freaks out because he is NOT ready for that yet and he still hasn’t admitted to himself that he loves cas. cas is like “wait do i like dean???” and yes, he does, and he gets really awkward and distances himself a bit from dean which obviously doesn’t go well and dean spirals and does some stupid stuff and passes out with his phone unlocked, a text about to be sent to cas saying “please come over cas. i need you” and sam finds him and wakes him up but he’s 14 and clumsy and accidentally hits the send button but it’s like 2 am and cas is asleep and doesn’t see it til morning and by then dean is sober and he noticed but he didn’t blame sam because it’s sam and cas shows up at his door and is like “dean wtf are you okay” and dean just pretends he’s fine and cas is like “are you sure???? your text seemed... not great...” and blah blah blah somehow they get on to the topic of romance and stuff and cas is just caught up in the moment and confesses and dean just... he can’t... (whole lot of backstory involved here) and immediately changes the subject and cas is like “well shit” and makes a quick exit and dean just... breaks more and eventually calls cas and tells him to meet him at the cafe and cas begrudgingly goes and dean takes him to the park nearby and explains everything and then confesses and they kiss and then dean says that he wants to date cas but no one can know because of previously explained backstory and it goes well for a while and they still write letters because they like it more but they’re even more special now and one day john fucking winchester overhears dean on the phone and gets really pissed and it’s summer so he sends dean to conversion therapy because he’s a horrible human being and it just breaks dean over and over and he comes back at the end of summer completely hollow and it takes cas five weeks to get him to explain what happened and cas is (rightfully) pissed off and tells dean that his dad should suck it but also tells him that he needs to stay safe and begs dean to come stay with him but dean says he can’t do that to sam and cas says he can bring sam but dean refuses and (hopefully i’ll be able to get this far, inshallah) he and cas get in a fight but a letter gets slipped into cas’ room that night with a long apology from dean and blah blah blah they see each other the next week and since dean turns 18 in about a month and a half, dean agrees to go stay with cas and to take sam with him but only as long as cas lets him pitch in with food and stuff and so a month and a half of planning and packing and slowly sneaking stuff over to cas’, dean takes sammy to cas’ and obviously john loses it but he gets into a car wreck when he’s trying to find dean and ends up in the hospital and dies from a brain injury and even though dean hates him more than anything he’s still really sad and sammy is near broken from it so dean pays for a small funeral with what he can scrape up and dean and sammy and cas’ family goes and that night dean holds sam all night because he’s crying and even after sam is asleep dean can’t sleep and he’s still crying and cas finds him in the backyard and just hugs him and holds him until he eventually falls asleep and cas carries him to his room and lies down next to him, hugging him tight and then it’s a few chapters of dean mourning but trying to hide it when they’re at school and finally they graduate and luckily for them they’re in a city with a good college near where cas lives so they both go there and sammy stays in his high school and dean studies music and engineering, and cas takes english lit and a bunch of writing classes and now they’re more open with their relationship and dean is out (he’s bi) and all and at some point sam comes out as pan and a couple months later asks to use he/they pronouns and everyone does and then it’s a couple of years of cas and dean being happy in uni and then dean gets a job at a mechanic while he gets a masters in engineering and cas gets one in english lit while working at a bookstore and after they have a steady cash flow and sam is in college, they get their own appartment and after they finish their master’s cas proposes to dean and of course he says yes and less than a year later, they’re husbands and it’s just amazing and about five years later (when they’re in their early thirties) they decide to adopt a kid (claire) and she’s really not okay because she grew up about the same way dean did but eventually she settles in (stays hella stubborn and fiesty because of course) but she gets a lot happier and about a year after claire is alright they adopt jack who is a sweet kid but is also a little fucked up because his parents died in a car accident two years prior and blah blah everyone is happy and more stuff happens but my fingers hurt so much" this is from my og post about it

[lauwrite1225]

Broken Crown || Finan x OC || Chapter 3.

Summary :  Since the day he has been enslaved, Finan never thought that he would have to face his origins. But when an old friend made his arrival to Wessex, the Irishman his forced to deal with his past.

(Flashbacks are in italic.)

English isn’t my first language, if you see any mistakes, tell me :)

Warning : None. (I assure you, there will be warnings one day lol)

03 || GHOST

 “Ailis!” The Irishwoman stopped when she heard her name. She sighed. The meeting had been a disaster and she didn’t want to deal with it for the moment. She turned around to face the man who called her. He was still walking to reach her. His raven hair was a real mess and his beard must have been cut not long ago. As he approached, her eyes slowly opened wide, as she just seen a ghost.

“Finan…” She murmured. He stopped a few steps away from her. For a moment she hesitated. But she could easily recognize his brown pupils, the shape of his nose and his small smile. God, this smile that she thought she will never see again. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Tears streamed down her face when she felt him tighten her waist.

After a moment, she moved away from his embrace. She took his face between her hands to stare at him closer. His eyes were also wet, but she knew it was of joy. There were new scars on his face, the one on his forehead was the only one she knew. He looked older too, but it was still him.

“I thought you would be dead.” She said softly, still uncertain of whether she should trust her vision. It’s been so long since he was gone. After years, she had accepted the truth. He would never come back. But there he was. Safe and sound.

“I am pretty alive.” He answered, smirking, ear to ear.

“Oh, God.” She hugged him once more. She had so many questions. So much to understand. But for the moment she wanted to enjoy their reunion. She held him tight, almost scared that he’ll disappeared if she didn’t.

“Finan.” Raised a strong voice further in the corridor. Her friend withdrew his arms from her waist and turned to the man who called him. He looked like a Dane with his long hair and the sides of his head shaved. “You know her?”

“I do. She’s an old friend.” He explained, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Ailis, this is Lord Uhtred. A great man.”

“You made a big impression with the Witan.” He said, almost amused. She rolled her eyes, wanting to avoid the discussion.

“Have you known each other for a long time?” She asked, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She was curious to know how Finan ended up here, in Winchester. For the little hope she kept of finding him, this was certainly not a place where she expected to see him nor in such good health.

“Too long to count.” Uhtred laughed.

“Then where did you meet?” The two men faces became dismal. Finan’s eyes met hers and she shivered. There meet wasn’t a nice story.

“On a slave ship.” Finan answered. She bit her lower lip. She felt her heart squeezing at the idea of what he has been through. The guilt made its way in her mind. But Finan spoke again, on a lighter tone and made it disappear for a moment. “We were rescued by Uhtred’s brother. Since then, I am pledge to Uhtred.”

“And now he is one of the three bastards who fight with me.” Uhtred smirked as he wrapped an arm around Finan’s shoulder.

“Bastards?” She frowned, not knowing if he was joking.

“Yes, all my men are bastard’s son. Like that, I am sure they won’t come back with an army if I don’t pay them.” He laughed.

“Yes, of course.” She glared at Finan, a smile hiding his embarrassment.

“Well. Maybe we could talk outside.” The Irishman declared. Ailis nodded and the three of them walked out of the palace.

The woman didn’t have the time to enjoy the city. She had arrived late at night and had slept only few hours before the Witan, in a chamber that was loan to her in the palace. Her journey to Winchester had not been easy either. The two guards accompanying her died, killed by brigand on the royal road. Since, Ailis was alone and always on her guard. Now that she was at Winchester, she hoped that she could have some rest.

While they were walking, Ailis tried to learn more about Uhtred. The man was intriguing and she wasn’t disappointed when he explained her who he was: Uhtred fo Bebbanburg. This name had crossed the sea more than once. His prowess were shouted and sang in Ireland just like in all England.

After half an hour of talking, Uhtred excused himself for having to leave. Ailis and Finan were now alone in the loud streets of Winchester. An awkward silent grew between them. Ailis wanted to ask him so many questions about how he survived and what happened to him during all these years. But she couldn’t help but only think of his lie.

“Why haven’t you told him the truth?” She finally asked.

“About what?” Finan looked up to her. She huffed, knowing perfectly that he knew what truth she mentioned.

“Who you are!”

“Would that change anything? I’ve been banished from Ireland and I’ve been made a slave. I don’t have any title anymore. I’m not worthier than a bastard.”

“But that’s not who you are!” She understood that she had spoken to loud when she felt some gazes on her. Finan clenched his jaw and took her arm to lead her somewhere else.

After few minutes of walks, they entered an alehouse. There was already a lot of people but Finan did not take a table. Instead, he walked up stairs and opened the door of a chamber. It was really simple, just a bed, a chair and a table. Finan let go his grip on her arm and he sat on the bed.

“Listen, Ailis. I thought this life was behind me. I thought I would never see you again, nor Conall, nor anyone else.” She couldn’t tell if it was sadness in his eyes. She used to know him like the back of her hand when they were younger. But now? He has changed. He’s been through a lot because of what he did. Wasn’t it understandable that he wanted to move on? To Ailis, it was, but not upon a lie.

“Fine.” She nodded. She didn’t want to argue with him. Not just after finding him. She sat next to him and put a hand on his knee. She looked up at him, a smile on her face. It could never have been more sincere. Finan was her greatest friend when they were kid. His loss was one the hardest thing she had to deal with in her life. Seeing him safe and sound warmed her heart in such a strange way. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you.”

“And I am too.” He said squeezing her hand. They remained silent a moment, just staring at each other. Finan finally removed his hand and ran it through his hair. “So, how is your life? Are you married?” He asked as his own curiosity took advantage.

“No, not yet.” She answered, looking away.

“No man has succeeded to take your heart?” He said in a mischievous tone.

“There was one.” She admitted. “But we did not have the time to marry.” Finan frowned as she started to play with the bottom of her shirt.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized while his smile disappeared.

“He was a simple man with a simple life. All I always wanted.” She stopped, feeling her throat tighten. He died a long time ago, but still, it hurt her to speak of it. She slowly shook her head, trying to estrange the memories from her mind. “But I guess it wasn’t God’s will for me.” She looked back to Finan’s brown eyes. “I have a duty to fulfill.”

“Serving Conall?”

“Serving any man who would have taken the crown.” She corrected him. “That’s what my father wanted.” Finan slowly nodded.

“How Conall did become… King?”

“Well, King Lugaid died not long after you were gone. Irial succeed him but he died one year after, in battle against the Danes. After that they established a settlement in the South of Ulaid. Conall get the support of my father and some Lords to be the new King. Since, he had only one thing in mind, getting rid of them. Two years ago, we defeated them.”

“Sigtryggr’s settlement?”

“One of. After we had heard of his loss of Dyflin, Conall thought it was the right time to attack. But now they want revenge.” She sighed as she lied her back on the bed. “I need to speak to the King.”

“You sure he will talk to you again after the Witan?” He laughed. She rolled her eyes and got up.

“I should go back to the palace, get some sleep. But I still have a lot of question for you.” She gently smiled at him and he gave it back to her.

“I’ll wait for you on the palace’s stairs, tonight.”

“Tonight then.”

 …

 The room was filled with the strong laughs of the King and Ailis’ father. The red hair girl was sat at the large table, just in front of Conall. He was back in Navan Fort after travelling during months in all Ireland. As he promised to Finan, years earlier, he left the city after their father’s death.

“Nephew, maybe you could present us the woman you have guested to my table.” Said the King pointing to the young woman sat next to Conall. She hadn’t spoken since the beginning of the dinner, only thanks to the maid. She wasn’t comfortable here and it was easy to see that. Her eyes never travelled away from her plate.

“Well actually, she’s not a guest.” Said Conall. He put down his cutleries and gently took the woman’s hand, grabbing her attention. “Moira is my wife.” He kissed the back of her hand and she gave him a shy but lovely smile.

“How much did you pay her, brother?” Finan teased him, making the King laugh once more. Ailis kicked her friend’s arm with her elbow while trying to hold her smirk. As children, the two brothers always annoyed each other and even as men, their habit did not disappear.

“You have a beautiful wife Conall. Even if it’s too late, you have my blessing.” Announced Lugaid, raising his cup.

“Thank you, uncle.” Smiled Conall before drinking some wine.

“Where do you come from?” Asked Ailis to Moira.

“Ó Domhnaill, Lady.” She answered on a soft voice, her cheeks turning red.  

“Call me Ailis. Please.” Ailis may not know the woman yet, she already liked her. Her timidity made her endearing. But she hoped Moira would grow more at ease with time. Being shy in a royal court wasn’t always a good thing.

“What were you there?” Demanded Dealla. The Uì Néill princess was sitting next to Finan, one of her fingers making circles on her swelling belly. She was expecting her second child. Almost a year earlier, she gave birth to healthy boy, Rohan. Dealla was a thoughtful mother, always wanting to take care of her son by herself. Finan was more distant. Being a father was a thing he find hard to admit. But he loved his son, Ailis was sure of that.

“A simple maid, Lady.” She said, almost ashamed. Dealla raised her eyebrows, but she said nothing.

The dinner proceeded well. Conall related stories from his travel. The young man was a good story teller. When they were kids, he spent hours narrating adventures of old Irish heroes to Ailis. But not everyone was attentive to his words. As Ailis turned to Finan, she observed his gaze was on Moira. Once the young Prince noticed his friend was watching him, he looked away, biting his lower lip. Ailis frowned but she quickly turned her attention to Conall again.

How could she know that this simple gaze would be the beginning of a terrible thing?

A/N : I am so happy to publish this chapter! Mostly to expose you my theory about the fact that Finan didn’t talk about his true identity to Uhtred and the others hehe. I thought that for the first time when Osferth said to Eadith that he was an Irish bastard. It can also be just an insult to joke. But I remembered than in season 3, when Finan mentionned his father funeral, Uhtred seemed surprised that he knew his father. And as we can see in the show, bastard children do not have a lot of relations with their fathers. 

Sooo I kept the theory for the story heheh. 

Thank you for your likes, reglogs and comments, those are precious to me <3

Tagged : @astral-finan @geekandbooknerd @pokeasleepingsmaug @queen-manning @kelly-fasel @naihqh @ucancallmechlo  <3

[until-theend-oftheline]

The Ikea Test

Pairing: Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: Pregnant Reader, a playful dig at Swedish people (I’m danish it’s what we do. Nothing is meant by it)    

Word Count: 1500ish

A/N: This is thought part of my LLL universe but as always it can also be read as a stand-alone. 

Betaed by: @blacktithe7 thank you, sweetie!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

It had been a long day and you were absolutely exhausted as you sat in the new armchair in your daughter’s nursery. It was your own fault really. Sebastian had been willing to pay to get designer products if that had been what you wanted. It just wasn’t. 

You weren’t poor by any means but you also weren’t Beyonce or whatever Hollywood actor brought in the big bucks that the moment. You didn’t mind. New York was an expensive city to live in, but it was home to Sebastian. Truth be told you were really starting to love it too. Every street corner was starting to bring with it memories. Happy memories of a life with the sweetest, kindest man you had ever met; a man who, luckily enough, adored you as much as you did him. 

So since you weren’t looking to leave New York anytime soon you just had to think a little about how you spent your money. You still lived way above average, but you knew a baby was pretty expensive. This was why you had insisted that baby clothes didn’t need to be designer brands to be comfortable and cute. You also didn’t need a room you would only use in that form for a year or two to cost an arm and a leg. Which was why you had dragged Sebastian with you to Ikea, jokingly telling him that if your relationship could sustain a trip like that, there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t be able to weather.

Sebastian had just rolled his eyes at you, but as you had entered the maze that was the department store, he had started to see the reality of your joke. Luckily, Sebastian loved shopping with you, no matter if it was clothes for one of you or things for the house, but especially when it was for your daughter.

Sebastian had been so excited ever since the first scan, but it had taken new heights after he learned you were having a baby girl. He brought home little outfits or toys she wouldn’t be able to play with for months or years all the time. You rolled your eyes at him, but the truth was, you found it endearing. You were so happy to see how excited he was to meet her, and you loved how tactile he was with you. He always was, but the further along you got in your pregnancy, the more handsy he got. Not in a sexual way necessarily, more protective and loving. 

He was actually enjoying Ikea with you, so it wasn’t really much of a test in the typical sense. It was more a test of his sense of direction, or lack there off. Which did put your patience to a test in return. All in all, it had been an amazing day, and you had returned home with a mobile, the armchair you were currently sitting in breezing through the book of baby names, a dresser that had yet to be collected, and the crib Sebastian was sitting on the floor trying to assemble.

“How about Lea?” you asked only looking up from the book when Sebastian answered shortly. 

“No.”

You frowned, a little annoyed with his quick dismissal of the name, but you also had a hard time holding onto that anger as you looked at him. His hair was still long from playing Bucky. He was keeping it that way in case they called him back for reshoots unless he got another role that would force him to cut it. He had currently pulled it back into a small ponytail but loose strands had escaped the rubber band prison and were framing his concentrated face as he struggled with the frame of the crib. 

“You can’t just say no,” you scolded without any anger in your voice, as you extended your leg poking his side with your fuzzy socked foot. “Give me a reason why?”

“Because,” Sebastian looked up at you, blowing the hair away from his face which only helped for about five seconds. “You said you wanted her last name to be Stan.”

“Lea Stan,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, before nodding. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work. Next.”

“Honey. I’m kinda busy here,” Sebastian sighed, making you smile wider. 

“I could help you?” you offered, making Sebastian shake his head.

“No. You’ll get cold on the floor. Stay up there,” he ordered, making you roll your eyes at him. 

“Yes. Sir.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian sent you a sheepish smile, knowing how much you hated him ordering you around. It didn’t happen often. He wasn’t that kind of guy, but a few poorly chosen words at the wrong time had definitely taught him his lesson. Luckily you appeared to be in a great mood. You waved him off returning your attention to the book. 

“How about Georgeta?” Sebastian offered absentmindedly as he returned his attention to the puzzle of furniture pieces in front of him. 

“No.”

Sebastian smirked, fully expecting that answer, but he still couldn’t help but poke fun at you. 

“You can’t just say no. Give me a reason?” Sebastian mocked your voice, making you laugh and gently poke his side with your foot again. That earned a hearty laugh from Sebastian as he looked up at you with sparkling eyes. 

“Because sweetheart. As much as I love your mother and I do love her,” you assured him, making his smile widen. “I do not want our kid to get picked on all the way through high school.”

“Fair enough,” Sebastian chuckled, groaning to himself as he seemed to have lost some piece of the eventual crib in front of him. 

“What about Victoria?” you suggested, wiggling your nose in thought, not completely sold on that one yourself. 

“It’s a little posh isn’t it?” Sebastian muttered, halfway paying attention. “It there a logic to the names you are picking?”

“Yeah. I was trying to find something that could work in danish, Romanian and English. And that works with Stan, and it cute,” you listed making Sebastian laugh. 

“That’s not gonna be easy, darling,” he teased before groaning in frustration again. 

“Seb, just let me help.” You closed the book, pushing yourself toward the edge of the chair, ready to get on the floor. 

“No, stay up there. I got this,” Sebastian let go of the crib, turning to face you, putting his hands on your thighs to prevent you from moving. Just as he did, the frame of the crib fell apart in almost slow motion, landing in four different places. 

“Clearly,” you laughed as Sebastian looked over his shoulder, but stopped as soon as you realized Sebastian wasn’t even close to as amused with the whole thing as you were. 

“Goddammit,” he yelled grabbing one of the pieces and flinging it across the floor. It startled you a little since you weren’t used seeing him lose his temper like that. You flinched but quickly regained composure, wrapping your arms around his head, and he, to your relief, leaned into your embrace straight away. 

“I should be able to do this,” Sebastian mumbled, burying his face deeper into your lap, making you smile. He was frustrated, but he didn’t take it out on you. He never did. Instead, he sought comfort in you, and you suddenly realized this was another side of him you loved dearly. 

“It’s okay. Ikea is Swedish. They overcomplicate things. That’s what Swedes do,” you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair, losing the hairband.  

Sebastian looked up at you, smiling cheekily as he spoke. “Did you just insult yourself there Y/N/N?”

“I’m Danish you idiot,” you tugged his hair, making him groan a little, “not Swedish.”

The little punishment clearly hadn’t relieved Sebastian of his sudden teasing mood as his eyes kept flickering with mischief. 

“Close enough,” he smirked, causing your eyes to widen. You quickly grabbed the baby book, gently whacking him over the head with it. 

Sebastian jumped back a little, still laughing. “Hey! What was that for?”

“I don’t call you Russian do I?” you pouted, causing Sebastian to laugh even harder as he pushed himself onto his knees, moving between your legs. 

“I. Am. So. Sorry.” Sebastian spoke, punctuating each word with a small peek to your pouty lips. 

“It will never happen again,” he promised as you started to giggle at his shenanigans. 

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck, and Sebastian grinned widely, knowing he was forgiven. 

“You love my ass,” he wiggled his eyebrows, causing you to laugh and shake your head at him as he leaned in to kiss you deeply and tenderly. 

He might not be the best carpenter in the world or even remotely close to being one at all, but he made you laugh, feel happy and loved. That was all you needed, and you would just have to make sure the crib wasn’t gonna break down with your daughter in it when Sebastian wasn’t home so his feeling wouldn’t get hurt either. You didn’t need him to be able to build you anything, but if it made him happy to try, you’d gladly let him. 

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Sebastian Stan Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr @sleepretreat @roxyspearing @jewels2876  @hellaqueerangelofthelord @danijimenezv @rumoured-whispers @becs-bunker @smoothdogsgirl @blacktithe7 @grace-for-sale @averyrogers83 @sebs-potato @sorenmarie87 @docharleythegeekqueen @erosbellarke @the-wayward-robot @super100012 @myfanficlibrarium @winchesters-favorite-girl @awkwardfangirl2014 @igotkatiepowers @dottirose @deathofmissjackson

[atc74]

Huckleberry

Square(s) Filled: Western for @spngenrebingo, Love Confession for BTZ Bingo, Road Trip for @spnfluffbingo2019

Warnings: slight angst, Dean in a Stetson, tears, fluff

Summary: Y/N plans a trip and fakes a case to tell Dean how she really feels but it doesn’t exactly go the way she had planned. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2611

Written for: btzbingo, @spngenrebingo, @spnfluffbingo2019

Beta’d by: @alleiradayne, thank you love. 

A/N: This may have been a request or a suggestion at one time, or it could have been a conversation between me and @sis-tafics, I don’t really remember. Either way, I like how this turned out and I hope you do too!

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

“Hey Dean, I found us a case,” Y/N looked up as Dean walked into the kitchen, his dead man robe hanging open, revealing his boxers. He shuffled in his old man slippers across the cold concrete floor to the coffee pot.

“Great, I’ll let Sam know. Ready in thirty?” he asked, savoring the first sip of his coffee.

“It’s a milk run, thought maybe you and me could take this one on our own. Give Sam some alone time.” Y/N looked at Dean over the rim of her cup, waiting on his reply.

“Yeah, sounds good, Sweetheart,” he smiled and her heart flipped in her chest, lodging itself in her throat. She’d always been a sucker for his smile, but when they were alone like this and she knew it was just for her was a whole other story.

Thirty minutes later, she meet Dean in the garage as he was checking the weapons. She tossed her overstuffed bag in the back seat and joined him at Baby’s trunk.

“So we have pretty much everything we need for anything, except lamb’s blood. It’s not a djinn, is it?” He looked to her as he lowered the lid on the weapons cache.

“No. No djinn. Please no djinn ever again,” she shook her head clear of the memories of a hunt gone wrong a couple years ago. It was the turning moment in her life and her perspective of the elder Winchester. The djinn-induced dream revealed her deepest desire and while deep down she may have always known she was attracted to Dean, she never thought that a life with him could be possible. She pursed her lips together, blurting out her well practiced dialogue. “Ghost. Should be a simple salt and burn. Two, three days tops.”

They climbed in the car, doors shutting in unison. Dean turned the ignition and Baby rumbled to life, purring like a badass kitten. As he put her into drive, pulling out of the garage, Dean turned to Y/N. “Where to m’lady?”

Y/N was sure she blushed a couple different shades of pink. “You’re gonna love this, Dean... Tombstone, Arizona, good sir.”

“Tombstone? Are you shitting me right now? We have a case in Tombstone?” Dean was so excited, Baby lurched under the pressure of his booted foot when he turned his upper body to face Y/N.

“Easy cowboy!” she laughed. “It’s just a case.”

“It is not just a case. It’s a ghost in Tombstone! Ahhh! Maybe it’s Billy Claiborne! I bet it’s Billy Claiborne,” Dean smirked and turned his attention back to the road, flooring it to get to their destination. It was going to be a long drive.

And it was. With Dean so excited about a potential case in Tombstone, the mecca of all things Wild West, it was a struggle to keep him focused. The sooner they were checked into their room, the sooner her nerves would calm down. Or get worse. It was a crap shoot at this point.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her life. Sure, she hunted the worst of the worst. She’d been shot, stabbed, broken bones and has been stitched up more times than she can count. But telling her best friend she’s in love with him? It was a whole new ballgame.

Dean slowed as they entered the city limits, his eyes wide as he took in the sights of Tombstone, Arizona. After all the miles he had logged, after all the places he had been and things he had seen, it was somewhere Dean had only ever dreamed of visiting. He didn’t even care what the case was, he decided they were staying a few extra days so he could see and experience everything Tombstone had to offer. And with his favorite girl by his side.

“Hey, I called ahead and reserved us a room. I thought it was the least I could do, dragging you all the way here and all,” Y/N mentioned as he stopped at the crosswalk. “It’s just ahead, Wyatt’s Hotel and Coffee House. Two of your favorite things, Winchester. Wyatt Earp and coffee.” She giggled as she watched Dean, a wide smile breaking out across his handsome face.

“Don’t forget you and whiskey,” he winked and Y/N felt herself blush in the darkness of the Impala. “Let’s get checked in and start fresh in the morning, huh?”

After Dean parked, they got out of the car, bags slung over their shoulders and walked into the hotel. Y/N approached the desk, checking them in while Dean stood in the middle of the lobby, his mouth agape, taking in everything. The hotel was directly across the street from the O.K. Corral and there were faded photos all along the walls depicting the rich and outlawed history of the town. Y/N jingled a set of keys at Dean to get his attention and together they climbed the stairs to their room on the second floor of the hotel.

Dean took the keys from her and stared at the sign on the door announcing they were entering the Wyatt and Josephine Suite. “Seriously?!” His voice was higher than his usual baritone, accentuated by the excitement. “Wyatt and Josephine!” Dean unlocked the door and swung it wide. The room furnished with period pieces, right down to the steel frame bed and lace doilies. He didn’t even say a word about the single king size bed.

Y/N let him inspect every little piece of the room while she went to change in the surprisingly modern bathroom. She had done her research and while the website toted a ‘spacious modern bathroom’, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She tried to keep her mind focused on taking off her clothes and putting on her pajamas, which to be honest, was just a pair of loose boy shorts and a old band tee she had stolen from Dean. She could hear the voices in her head telling her she was wrong. She shouldn’t do this. She’d lose her best friend. But for once her heart was louder and stronger than the voices in her head. She smiled to herself and stepped out of the bathroom to find Dean already in bed, reading what appeared to be all of the brochures the hotel had provided.

“Did you know the O.K. Corral is literally across the street? Man we gotta go there! And the Birdcage Theatre. This is awesome!” Dean hadn’t stopped smiling since they left the Bunker. Y/N hoped he doesn’t stop for the entire trip.

“I knew you’d be excited about this!” she told him, climbing into the opposite of the bed. “There is a coffee shop downstairs and a continental breakfast is included. What’d’ya say we get some shut eye, then start our day with coffee and pastries, maybe some bacon?”

“Sounds awesome,” Dean repeated, placing the brochures on the bedside table and flipped off the small lamp.

Y/N woke the next morning to an empty bed and room, Dean having disappeared. Christ, there better not really be a case here! She thought to herself as she attended to her morning business. She stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped tight in a towel to find Dean sitting at the small table. Y/N wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Dean to find her in just a towel, or her seeing Dean in his best western get up, complete with light colored Stetson and boots.

Y/N took hold of herself mentally shaking the impure thoughts from her head. “Soooo, what’s with the gettup, cowboy? Or should I say Marshall?”

“Well, when in Rome…” Dean gestured to the room with a wink in her direction and she swore her knees were going to buckle if she looked at him one more second, or worse, she was going to rip the towel from her body and throw herself at him like a fool. She quickly grabbed her clothes and returned to the bathroom.

“Fuck!” she mumbled after she managed to close the door. She was going to have to fess up sooner rather than later, because in all her scheming, she forgot to pack her Fed suit. Throwing on a tank and her tightest jeans, she stepped back out in the room to see Dean holding out a hat similar to his own.

“I got you one, too, Sweetheart,” he dropped the hat on her head.

“That’s so sweet, Dean. Thank you,” she whispered, overcome with emotion at the small gesture.

“Of course, Sweetheart. I gotta take care of my best girl,” he smiled and placed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Speaking of which, your suit is hanging in the closet. I’ll go get us a table while you finish getting dressed.”

Y/N watched him swagger, yes swagger, out of the room. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest that she was surprised he didn’t hear it. She took her suit from the hanger, shocked that she forgot it, but Dean remembered. He was always looking out for her, even when neither of them realized it.

She twisted her hair up in a low bun at the nape of her neck and brushed some mascara on her lashes. She never was much for makeup, but figured a light coat couldn’t hurt. She checked herself once more before grabbing her key and making her way downstairs to meet Dean. She dreaded having to tell him the truth, but hoped he wouldn't be mad. So what if there wasn’t a case? They were in Tombstone, Dean’s Disneyland, and she was going to make the most of it for him.

Dean had secured not only a table, but he already had it loaded with hot coffee, just the way she liked it, a pile of bacon, along with a plate of fruit, and a toasted english muffin, complete with peanut butter. He was halfway through a chocolate covered bear claw when she sat down. “You spoil me, you know that right?”

“Someone has to. If it wasn’t for me and Sammy, you’d spend your days hungry and naked,” he chuckled, mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like “not that I’d mind” but she brushed it off as a hallucination due to minor starvation.

“You’re right. You cook for me and wash my clothes. I’m a lucky girl. I’d hate to think what I’d be without you,” she nibbled on the english muffin, licking the peanut butter from her thumb.

“You’ll never have to worry about that, Sweetheart,” he vowed, quickly changing the subject. “Now, tell me about this case.” He rubbed his hands together, ready to hear all the gory details.

“Yeah, about that. I hear there have been some sightings at the Birdcage Theatre,” she mumbled.

“Birdcage Theatre it is!” Dean finished his coffee while she ate the last bite. “Come on, you can finish your coffee on the way over. It’s just a couple blocks.”

By the time they reached their destination, she couldn’t keep it from him anymore. “Dean there isn’t a case!”

“What do you mean there isn’t a case?” Dean turned and looked at her, the look on his face a cross between annoyed and offended. “You dragged me all the way here for nothing? I can’t believe you faked a case!” He turned on the heels of his boots and walking away.

Tears streamed down her face. She hadn’t even made half the confessions she had planned and he was already pissed at her. Great. Way to go Y/N, she thought, kicking a stray rock down the street and she walked back to their hotel. Just as she reached the hotel, she spotted Dean leaning against the wooden fence at the O.K. Corral. He looked deep in thought so she let him be and walked up to their room. She shed out of her suit, carefully placing it back on the hanger and in the garment bag. Y/N dropped to the bed and curled up into a ball, letting the tears fall for everything she had just lost.

She groggily blinked her eyes open, the sun shining too brightly through the lace curtains. Dean was sitting in a chair too small for his large frame, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. She walked over to where he sat, kneeling in front of him.

“Dean I am so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have faked a case, but I just wanted some time with you. I thought this would be the perfect spot to get away. Forget all the shit we’ve been through this year. You’re always taking care of me and I just wanted to do something nice for you for once. I’m sorry,” she sniffed, the tears coming back.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to get away? If you had led with that, I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat!” Dean looked down at her, crying at his feet. “Why go to all the trouble?”

“Because of you, Dean. You do everything for me. You’re always looking out for me whether you realize it or not. You feed and clothe me. You and Sam took me in without question and gave me a home and a family,” she cried.

“Because that is what you do for someone you love, Y/N.”

“I’m so sor - wait. What did you say?” she blinked rapidly, thinking that it would somehow improve her hearing. She thought she heard Dean say he loved her.

“I have been such a chicken shit! Ever since that damn djinn hunt, I’ve been lying to myself, to you. I shoulda said something, but I was afraid I was going to lose you,” Dean confessed, sliding from the chair and dropping to his knees in front of her. “I love you. I think I have since you burst into our lives. I can’t imagine mine without you.”

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It seemed so surreal, she laughed. She laughed until there were tears in her eyes for good reasons. “Oh my God, Dean. I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Those are the sweetest words you could ever say to me.”

“Care to enlighten me, Sweetheart?” Dean didn’t look amused.

“Yeah, yeah. I, um, I planned this trip a couple months ago. I brought you here on the false pretense of a case because I felt I needed an excuse and I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you how I really felt. I love you, Dean. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me in my stupid life and just needed you to know,” she smiled up at him.

“I’m so glad you planned this. I love you, Y/N,” Dean whispered, leaning in. He pressed his lips to hers softly, testing the waters. Y/N reached up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulled him closer. She returned his kiss with vigor, pulling back from him only to catch her breath.

Dean leaned his forehead on hers. “For smart people, we’re pretty stupid. I coulda been kissing, and doing other things to you, this whole time.”

“No time like the present,” she grinned, kissing his lips once more.

“Can we still go to all the places and see all the things? There isn’t anyone I would rather experience Tombstone with than you,” Dean professed.

“I’m your Huckleberry,” she whispered. The trip may not have started the way she planned, but it certainly was turning out better than she could have dreamed of.

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The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

BTZ Crew: @katymacsupernatural @pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @chelsea072498

[soaringeag1e]

Get To Know Me

@stargirl03 tagged me a few days back. Sorry it took me so long to get around to it, but thank you for the tag, hon! I miss doing these.

NAME: Megan

NICKNAMES: Meg, Wifey, Momma

ZODIAC SIGN: Scorpio

HEIGHT: 5′5 ish

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: English

NATIONALITY: American

FAVORITE SEASON: Fall

FAVORITE FLOWER: Not a huge fan of flowers, but if I were to choose a few that I like....Magnolias, Hydrangeas and columbines are a few that I like.

FAVORITE SCENT: Um...I love nature smells. Woods, Ocean, Rain, that kind of stuff.

FAVORITE COLOR: Blue, Green, Black & Purple

FAVORITE ANIMAL: I love too many to pick a favorite, but again, to name a few...Dogs, Bears {Any type}, Penguins, Wolves, Whales....and a hundred more

FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER(s): Damn you for this question.....We’re just gonna cut to the chase and say pretty much every character on Supernatural. Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes, Negan, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan and I’m sure there’s plenty more that I love

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: More of a coffee and hot chocolate type of girl, but I’ll have tea every once in a blue moon. Except iced tea. Love black iced tea!

AVERAGE SLEEP HOURS: 3 - 5 hours on work nights and about 6-7 on my days off.

DOG OR CAT PERSON: Definitely a dog person. But I could live with a cat and love it just as much.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH: A sheet and one blanket during the winter, and either a sheet or nothing at all during the summer.

DREAM TRIP: New York City, Venice, Alaska and I’m sure there’s more.

BLOG ESTABLISHED: 2015 ish My first fic was published May 4th 2015

FOLLOWERS: I’m currently at 5,972

RANDOM FACT: Oh Chuck....random fact, random fact......I honestly can’t think of one right now. But I’m sure something will come to me at some point today. Maybe even a few seconds after I post this.

I’ll tag @sandlee44 @waywardsistersandpie @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester They’ve been giving me a lot of rebloggin love and I want to thank every single one of you for that.

[prairiedust]

Red or Green? The literary and folk themes of Oroborous

Red or green is the official state question of New Mexico as ratified by the legislature in 1996. Order anything at any restaurant, even a burger in some places, and you’ll likely be asked “Red or green?” Do you want red chile sauce on your entree, or do you prefer green chile? The “state question” can sometimes reveal geographical origins-- red sauce is supposedly favored in the northern half of the state, while green is more popular in the south (I lived in the south, and you could easily get either one anywhere so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .) The best green chiles are grown in the south, so maybe that has something to do with it-- like wine grapes, chiles from different parts of the state have different flavor profiles. Green chiles from the Hatch area are world famous.

But it’s important to remember that the sauces are made from the exact same fruit. The difference is all in the timing. Green chiles are harvested early, unripe, then roasted and chopped up and canned or put in the freezer, whereas red sauce is made from chiles that have been allowed to ripen fully and are then (typically) dried.

It’s all about timing. Let your chiles stay on the plant too long, and you miss your chance at the magical elixir that is green chile sauce.

Timing.

The sister stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are, to a great extent, about timing. They are about waiting, about vigils, and about being at the right place at the right time-- or the exact wrong time.

(If you have not already read this rundown of Snow White in season 14, I suggest at least reading a few of the translations of the original folktales here or here. And cw the Sleeping Beauty story called Sun Moon and Talia is dark. I’ll be discussing the difference between the original material and the Disneyfied stories somewhat. Usual disclaimer that this is lit crit and not spec, why you ask, because I am a hundred years old is why.)

I want to say first that Steve Yockey in Ouroboros did a truly wonderful job allegorizing the story of Snow White, which has been teased for a while now. In the Grimms’ Snow White, as in other tales of that type, Snow White has been 1. run into the wilderness by her stepmother, B. taken in by a group of dwarfs, Three: then poisoned by that stepmother and fourthly laid to rest in a glass coffin. While the story has been poked at over the course of several episodes, Yockey sums it all up again in this one.

Dean-- along with the rest of TFW 2.0-- has been traipsing around New Mexico looking for a peculiar monster. Trope one. From the screen shot it looks like they’ve possibly been through Clovis, Roswell, Albuquerque, and finally made it up to Raton. As far as wildernesses and in-between places go, New Mexico is the most liminal state in the union-- many people in the country think it’s part of Mexico and if you think that’s a joke when I was a senior looking at colleges I had two well respected schools send me their foreign student applications. Roswell. AAAAaaaaahhhh Roswell. Roswell is the city that straddles reality and science fiction. They fry ice cream in New Mexico, they eat both ripe and unripe chiles there, and they have old mountain forests and arid white sand deserts within fifty miles of one another.

Another nod to the Snow White story is the Ma’lek Box that Dean mentions again-- B-- it can be seen as an allusion to Snow White’s glass coffin (in other versions, it is merely ornate or sometimes bedecked in rare gems but it is definitely something that she alone can not get out of… being dead and all...)

Finally, when the Gorgon knocks him out and Michael escapes, Sam tends Dean’s wounds while he is unconscious, which fulfills the traditional Snow White requirement for someone other than the king/prince to affect a physical change in the heroine’s state-- cutting off an enchanted dress or jostling the coffin so that the bite of poisoned apple can be coughed out-- in order to bring her back to life. Walt Disney and his studio added the “first love’s kiss” into the Snow White matrix in 1938, not even a century ago, but it quickly took over the narrative-- Disney also brings the story into a more accessible reality for modern viewers, he introduces the prince into the actual storyline earlier than in the folk tale, and then has him awaken her with The Kiss. Which do we, as an audience, prefer? The rabbit-hole of darker, more psychological Snow White tale types, or Disney’s recent and overwhelmingly iconic romantic reimagining?

Red or green?

Yockey gave us green, the version that has not ripened into what most people know as Snow White through the Disney cinematic behemoth.

The other duality in this episode is that we have Sleeping Beauty being referenced simultaneously with Snow White’s allegory.

Sleeping Beauty is Cas’ story and elements from that tale type can be seen in how the Gorgon stalks and overcomes his prey. The Gorgon uses sex to snare a human for consumption-- he says he’s an opportunist but that women have begun to be more cautious now that they are “waking up” from a long period of oppression. Sleeping Beauty’s deep sleep comes as the result of a symbolic sexual awakening-- in the more recent stories that awakening comes from the machinations of an enemy, so it is more a violation than a sudden innocent awareness. Where am I going with this? I don’t even know, this seems like it belongs in a different essay. What I’m trying to say is that the Gorgon uses sex to put people into a state of paralysis, and the evil fairy (known in the Disney movie as Maleficent) used a sexual metaphor to lure Briar Rose to her doom before she was ready for that kind of encounter. We are asked to contemplate the symbolic aspect of the Gorgon’s predation because he also uses a symbolic act-- eating eyeballs-- to see into the future and thus subvert the natural order of time.

In Sleeping Beauty, the evil crone/Maleficent also subverts the timeline by jumping place in line. She was not invited to the party in honor of the infant princess, but after nearly all of the other wise women have given Briar Rose their blessings, she breaks in to curse the baby. There is always one fairy left who, while not powerful enough to nullify the curse, can modify it to a deep sleep instead of death. In Ouroboros, TFW2 exploits the fact that Cas and Jack exist outside of the workings of Fate to defeat the Gorgon, but not without great cost.

Which brings us to The Wrong Kiss. I didn’t even want to meta the Sleeping Beauty stuff because of the kiss, seriously. So. What happens to Briar Rose is tragic, but in the three most famous versions of the story she comes out of her enchantment because a prince falls in love with her. Jack, here, as a result of Cas’ deal with the Empty, is no longer in the Sleeping Beauty story, he is not a Prince but a Giant-Killer once more, and the antidote he administers to counteract the Gorgon’s venom will not work. Once he activates his giant-killing powers, he can heal Castiel. (In the reciprocal, Cas is an agent of the SB story and the antidote works on the dude the Gorgon was about to eat because Cas administers it. It’s a very meta way of treating the folklore theme by both subverting it and keeping certain characters strictly within the parameters.)

Jack finally lives up to his name as a Giant-Killer when he takes out Michael. In Appalachian and English Jack Tales, Jack is always clever, sometimes to the point of unscrupulousness, but in the story Jack and the Beanstalk he is a naive picaro who betters his circumstances through reliance on his simple nature as much as his wits. Often “Jack” does not change as a result of his adventures, as most fairytale heroes do, but like many other mythological tricksters he operates outside the bounds of normal morality. Jack Kline has managed to hold onto his innocence despite initiation into the Winchester clan. Now that Jack has, presumably, burned off some large portion of his soul, it will be interesting to see how his picaresque nature might actually change. Because the story of Jack the Giant-Killer? Not the same story as Jack and the Beanstalk. The Giant-Killer is the story of a deadly clever young man who defeats several giants as well as Lucifer using mainly his wits and is afterward given a place on King Arthur’s Round Table. The story in its entirety borrows from Cornish, Welsh, and Briton mythology, echoing other simple folktales as well as hearkening to high heroes of the Mabinogi. Jack has become larger than life. (AN I started this before Peace of Mind, I’ll get to that one by the end of the season maybe :P )

In a less meta sense of course, this episode is one huge mythological allusion-- Cas refers to Dean’s imprisonment of Michael as a “herculean” feat, the MOTW is a Gorgon (and traditionally gorgons were a trio of cursed sisters in Greek legends,) and Dean enthusiastically references the 1981 Clash of the Titans film twice. In a /more/ meta vein, Andrew Dabb quotes the more recent Titans movie in a tweet on this ep’s airdate. I find that exciting because the story of Perseus in CotT features a descent into the underworld, and again while I flirt with speculation here I would REALLY like to see these nerds freaking raid the Empty.

As for Snow White and Sleeping Beauty now? Red or green?

It feels as though the Snow White story has possibly been tied up and tucked away now, solving the riddle of the “red or green” sister stories. Michael, Dean’s evil rival, is dead. Pretty sure. Whether his grace is contaminated and will have an adverse effect on Jack remains to be seen. See drsilverfish’s lovely analysis of the oroborous symbolism in the last two episodes for more discussion about what it means for Jack to have consumed Michael’s grace. But. Unless there is a Ghost of AU!Michael coming up, he’s gone.

We are left, however, with Cas’ deal with the Empty-- he gets to operate under normal parameters as long as he does not exceed the minimum threshold of happiness (and I want it to be an accidental or unexpected moment, unlike a lot of meta writers, but then that isn’t spec it’s just what I hope for.) And what does that mean for destiel subtext? I don’t know. Honestly, this is a little too intense for me, I am not “canon positive” or “endgame positive” and this episode freaked me out. Analytically, though, it places the subtext at a really interesting place. It means the princess who gets rescued from an enchanted doom is still on the loose, still avoiding Fate, and the prince is still out there having Adventures in the Woods. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Only In My Dreams Part 3

Summary: Courtney is still at a loss and her distraction might just cost her, her life.

Pairing: Sam x OC

Warnings: language, supernatural violence

Word Count: 2049

Blood poured from Courtney's mangled arm. It looked like she had gotten into a fight with a wildcat and the wildcat had won. There was also a gash across her chest and she honestly thought this was it. This was the end. There was no way she was walking away from this alive. She gazed up at the rugaru standing over her. He was big almost as tall as Sam, but bulkier and his black eyes stared down at her with hunger. She knew the monster was planning to make her its next meal and she just knew it was going to be a painful death. She wished that Sam and Dean hadn't made her come out with them. She definitely couldn't do this.

Earlier that day

When Sam and Courtney emerged from the bathroom Dean was up and drinking a cup of coffee. He didn't seem fully awake with the way he kept rubbing at his eyes, but he had a newspaper opened on the table with an article circled. In New Orleans a woman was found with most the flesh eaten from her body. The cops were chalking it up to an animal attack, but the woman had been in her home and there were signs of a break in and then a struggle in her bedroom before whatever had attacked had won.

Courtney almost gagged as she looked over the article. Even just reading that someone had the flesh eaten was enough to turn her stomach and she was supposed to help track down whatever monster had done this? That was just crazy. There was no way she wanted anything to do with that. She would just help with research and that would be it. There was no way in hell she was actually going to fight whatever the creepy thing was. Nope she would stay in the motel and read about it. Helping the guys by giving them all the information she could. That was what she planned to do. Of course first they had to try and identify what the monster could be.

As Dean took off to get them breakfast Courtney pulled out a laptop. She wasn't sure whose it was, but when it booted up the lock screen was of her and Sam kissing, her nickname was there where the username went, and surprisingly she knew the password. She frowned and clicked on the chrome icon loading up the search engine and started to do research. As she looked through different articles on monsters her mind kept drifting to Sam, who sat across from her on his own laptop, and Dean who had yet to return. She didn't understand how any of this was possible.

Sam and Dean weren't real, monsters weren't real, none of this was real. The Winchesters were played by Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, monsters were just people in costume or CGI, and it was all filmed in Vancouver. Yet every time she looked over her laptop she was reminded that Sam was in fact sitting in front of her and was trying to figure out what kind of monster ate human flesh. How had this suddenly became her life? One minute she was an overworked paralegal who wanted a different life and in the next she was waking up next to Sam Winchester and she was researching monsters. None of it made sense and she wished she had some answers.

With a heavy sigh Courtney ran a hand through her hair and decided she needed to step out for a breath of fresh air. “Hey I'm gonna go outside for a second. I think some fresh air will help clear my mind,” she said. Sam lifted his head and locked eyes with her trying to discern if she was alright or if she was still stressing about whatever had bothered her that morning. After a few seconds he nodded his head. He trusted that she would be fine on her own. Courtney smiled and headed out the door.

Spotting a bench under a tree across the parking lot she darted toward it. It wasn't exactly what she would consider being in nature, but it was close enough. She could sit under the large willow, breath in the scent of the daffodils growing at its base and relax, clear her mind, and come up with a plan. Courtney desperately wanted to understand what was going on with her life right now. Unfortunately she wasn't going to get the chance to do that. No sooner than her sitting down on the bench did she hear someone saying her name.

Lifting her head, Courtney locked eyes with the eldest Winchester who was holding up a bag full of food from the diner down the street and shaking it. Knowing that if she said she didn't want to eat Dean would pester her she headed back across the lot. When the bag was emptied and she saw the egg white, spinach omelette with onions and mushrooms along with an English muffin she was speechless.

“Is something wrong with it? I told them to toast the muffin,” Dean said. After assuring him nothing was wrong Courtney started eating. It had just been a surprise that he had gotten her favorite meal. It only added to the confusion she felt. Both Winchesters acted so familiar with her and it had her thinking that just maybe this wasn't a dream. But then how was that possible? It couldn't be. She quickly shook that thought away.

Everyone finished eating and piled into the Impala. Sam had a pretty good idea what the monster was and it was time to head out. Hopefully once they reached New Orleans they could find it pretty easy and kill it before it killed anyone else. Of course Courtney was freaking out internally the entire drive. She kept having the same thoughts playing over and over in her head. Oh God, are they going to expect me to hunt? I cant hunt. I've never hunted a day in my life! Even with how familiar the guys acted, how loving Sam treated her, the few memories she had of this life she refused to believe any of it was real. She couldn't stop thinking all of this was a dream.

As soon as they reached the city Dean found a motel and they checked in. They needed to change into their FBI get up and go check out the victim's body. Courtney wasn't looking forward to seeing a dead body. Something told her it would make her sick. But she changed into a tight grey pencil skirt, a dark green blouse, and a grey jacket. Slipping on some black peep toe heels she followed the boys out to the Impala.

At the morgue Courtney’s assumption was almost proven right. When she saw the body with the flesh ripped off and muscles showing she had to choke back bile. It was the most disgusting thing she had ever seen and she just knew seeing the monster responsible would be even worse. I'm definitely staying in the motel room. Looking away from the body she looked to Sam. “So rugaru?” She asked. It was the theory they had came up with before leaving the last town.

“Yeah it's a rugaru. We'll need to make some flamethrowers and try to find out where and who it is,” Sam said.

A quick trip to the hardware store provided them with everything they needed to take out the rugaru. Now they just needed to find it. As the boys set to work making the flamethrowers Courtney grabbed some more comfortable clothes and changed. Plopping down on one of the beds she turned the TV on and tried to relax. Everything was still confusing, but she was tired of thinking and just wanted to clear her mind with some mind-numbing television.

However that wasn't going to happen. When the TV clicked on Sam looked over at her. “Uh babe what are you doing? We're getting ready to go out and find the rugaru.”

Courtney lifted her head and stared back at Sam. “I thought I would just hang out here. Relax for a bit ya know.”

“You never want to stay at the motel. You're always right in the thick of things. You've said countless times you love this part. Killing the monster and saving people.” Sam had been worrying about Courtney all day after the freak out in the shower and this just made him worry even more.

Dean cocked a brow. “You can't stay back. Like Sam said you love this part and we need you. Hell you're better at taking out monsters than even gigantor over there.”

Well fuck me. Looks like I'm stuck going out in the field. I swear if I get killed I'm gonna haunt their asses. “Yeah I know. Just a little tired today. Give me a minute and I'll be ready.” Courtney climbed out of the bed, slipped some jeans over her shorts and put her tennis shoes on.

An hour after trying to find the rugaru Dean decided they should split up, cover more ground. That way they might find it before someone else was killed. Courtney was against splitting up, but she knew if she spoke up the boys would question it. And really she had no answers for them. She still had no idea why she was living this life, why she had memories from being a hunter, but the ones of being a paralegal were more vivid and at the forefront of her mind. It was best to avoid questions at this point.

Walking down an alleyway Courtney's mind wouldn't shut up. She was terrified of finding the monster on her own, she also was having trouble believing all of this was real, she couldn't stop thinking she didn't belong out here. It was because of her thoughts that she was distracted and didn't hear or see the rugaru until it was too late. Nails raked down her arm as it was gripped tight and she was thrown to the ground. The pain was worse than anything she had ever endured. A small cry escaped her and she squeezed her eyes shut to stave it off.

Looking down at her arm she let out a whimper. Blood poured from Courtney's mangled arm. It looked like she had gotten into a fight with a wildcat and the wildcat had won. There was also a gash across her chest and she honestly thought this was it. This was the end. There was no way she was walking away from this alive. She gazed up at the rugaru standing over her. He was big almost as tall as Sam, but bulkier and his black eyes stared down at her with hunger. She knew the monster was planning to make her its next meal and she just knew it was going to be a painful death. She wished that Sam and Dean hadn't made her come out with them. She definitely couldn't do this.

Just as Courtney had given up, had surrendered to her fate she heard a loud scream. The rugaru was on fire and letting out the most awful, pain filled noise. Slowly it fell at her feet dead and she looked at it for a brief moment before looking to her rescuer. Sam stood there, flamethrower in hand and looking worried. He dropped the makeshift weapon and rushed to her side. “I've got you. We'll get you patched up. But you want to tell me how you managed to get so banged up?”

Courtney in fact did not want to tell Sam. She just shook her head and said it got the drop on her. The look in Sam's hazel eyes said he didn't believe her, but he didn't press her further.

Back at the motel Sam cleaned and bandaged her arm. She gave him a kiss and laid down. While she didn't understand anything that was going on, she did understand her and Sam were together. Out of all the craziness that was going on that was the one thing she liked. But would it be enough to keep her sane? Would it be enough to help her adjust and accept this was now her life?

Tags:

@mirandaaustin93 @thatfanficstuff @c-s-stars @princessofthefandomrealm @81mysteriouslyme @violentmommabear42

[josiewinters1999]

Superwho x Avengers x OFC(Willie) in Tribal!AU

Summary:  Post Infinity War, the remaining Avengers need a safe place to regroup, what better place to do it than the ancient lost city hidden deep in the Gallifreyan forest?

Chapter 3: Day 1 pt 2

Words: 4226

Contains:  IW spoilers, mentions of death, angst, cursing

A/N: Thank you all so much for your continual support with this fic. I say it’s getting a ton of support but really I’m getting like 30 notes per chapter lol. Honestly, to me, that’s great, I couldn’t ask for more. I hope I continue to get this support from you guys and I really hope that you’re enjoying this!

After all her new citizens were issued their food, it was finally Willie’s turn. She begins to make her way to the people with bowls of food but is stopped by a Gallifreyan voice, a soft yet mature one. “Kheromoksyl, if you don’t mind,” Willie hears her name and turns back to the High Priestess.

“Yes?” she answers in her native tongue. Unveiling a hand from her bell sleeves, the High Priestess beckons one of her followers over. Reaching into the bowl and pulling out a bread wrap, she hands it to Willie, “It would do me the greatest honor if you would allow me to feed you.” Bowing, Willie accepts the food, “Thank you. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated amongst me and my people.”

Seeming almost offended by this, the High Priestess leans back slightly, “‘Your people?’ These beings of white and black skin are not yours.” She looks to the sky and then reaches a hand to the center of Willie’s chest, “The Goddess gave you life and she beats her drums within you,” her hazel eyes stare with great seriousness at Willie, “with us.”

The High Priestess retracts her hand and hides it once more in her robe. Noticing all her followers stirring behind her, she looks to Willie one last time before almost spitting at her, “Don’t forget where your loyalties lie.” With that statement, she turns to her people and wanders off ahead of them into the woods, disappearing through the treeline.

Standing motionless for a moment, Willie ponders the words of the High Priestess. Are the Gallifreyans truly her people? The answer, of course, is yes. At least, that’s what Willie tells herself. A small part of her feels tied to Earth, and to Asgard- two places she’s spent a much longer amount of time than she has in these woods.

A deeper, more masculine, English voice pulls Willie from her thoughts, “Willie!” Sam Winchester shouts, waving her over. She shakes her head and pushes her insecurities aside, walking over to her friend.

“What’s going on?” She asks in a friendly manner, trying to cover up the turmoil inside. Sam gives her an almost knowing look before continuing, “Well, where are we gonna sit?”

Sam looks out over the ground around the bonfire. The suns had completely set at this point and the fire was the only light. Like a high school cafeteria, the people in camp had separated themselves into groups, all sitting in small clusters around the fire’s light.

Willie hums, thinking about where a good place to seat herself would be. She scans the clusters in the golden glow and finally sees one on the far side of the crowd. In this particular cluster sits Thor, Steve, Tony, Pepper, Bruce, and Natasha. Unwilling to search further, she decides that sitting with Thor would be fine enough.

Extending a free hand, Willie points to Thor’s cluster, “There.”

Making their way through the crowd, Sam and Willie walk past the other groups of people. Most of them were exclusively Asgardian, others exclusively Wakandan, but some groups, mostly single, young adults, had integrated themselves, eating their shared food in the bonfire’s glow.

Upon approaching the group, Willie can tell there was a conversation she had stopped. All eyes are on her, Steve and Thor even turning their torsos to see her.

When met with nothing but silence and awkward glares, Willie meekly asks, “Got any space for two?” Sam stands over her shoulder, nervously smiling himself.

Willie scans the group, eventually locking eyes with Tony, “Yeah, sure, go ahead.” He gestures to the large empty spot between Thor and Steve.

Before Willie can step to her right and nab the space next to Thor, Sam is sitting there. She looks to her left, at Steve. He glances away from her and back down at the food in his hand. Willie reluctantly sits next to the super soldier, feeling already that it’s a bad decision.

There is a thick awkward tension in the air. It was no doubt caused by Willie’s presence, and she knows this. It feels just like it did all those years ago, during briefings in Avenger’s tower when she’d waltz in half drunk and making a fool of herself.

“So,” Bruce finally speaks, “what exactly are these things Willie?” He lifts up his wrap.

Willie looks at her own, opening it to check her suspicions, “Well,” she begins, examining each bit closely, “it’s a bread wrap, obviously. This is a type of flat bread we eat a lot of here. It’s made from this grass that can be found just outside the forest,” she points to her left at the south end of camp, “right where the forest meets the wasteland.”

Bruce pushes his glasses up on his head, pointing to the wrap again, “Yeah, but what’s in it?”

Willie chuckles, “Well, there’s some meat from a yakchu, a creature that’s a bit like a deer. It’s got the body of one, but it’s head is shaped more a bird. It’s got a beak,” she raises her hand to clamp her fingers in imitation of one. “Then on the inside we’ve also got some basically Gallifreyan lettuce, not much nutrition but it fills you up.”

She finally rewraps her food before taking a bite, “Pretty standard ration. I used to eat them all the time as a kid. When the other warriors and I would go on long journeys through the lands, we’d take these.”

“They’re small, filling, and give you enough energy to hunt,” Willie chews her mouthful, memories of her adolescence rushing back to her. In her mind’s eye she sees flashes of red and silver, mixed with the sound of rushing arrows and the wounded cries of the things she killed. The memory is neither comforting or traumatizing, it simply is. However, it does evoke a sense of nostalgia, simply for being some of Willie’s oldest memories.

Natasha swallows the bite in her mouth, “Well, it’s good. Kinda salty but good.” Willie nods thankfully, the awkward silence immediately falling once more.

All the members of the circle, excluding Willie and Sam, glance at each other, exchanging knowing looks. Willie silently wishes she could finish her food faster and leave in time to save some face.

“So Bruce,” Tony asks, leaning over Pepper to talk to him, “You gonna bunk with Pepper and I?”

The scientist sighs, “I dunno. I don’t want to, you know… intrude, on you guys. I th-think it’d be better if you guys had your own space.” Tony only waves a hand in dismissal, relieving it of its job picking at his food, “Nonsense, we have plenty of room.” The last bit held a certain cynicism that Willie knew in an instant was meant for her to hear.

Sam leans over to Willie, whispering to her in broken Gallifreyan, “You hear that?” clearly referencing what was said by the billionaire across the way. She only nods, not lifting her eyes from her hands and the task at hand.

Despite his best efforts to keep quiet, Steve perks at Sam’s voice, “Can you speak Gallifreyan?”

At those four words, all attention darts to Steve, then following his gaze to Willie and then ultimately to Sam Winchester. Sam’s eyes go wide, shock and fear filling his face. He wasn’t expecting to be put on the spot for something so small.

“W-what?” He only stutters, gently brushing a piece of his damp hair out of his eyes.

Steve stares Sam down, his features almost hurt and his voice demanding, “Did she teach you Gallifreyan?”

Willie looks between the two men. From Steve’s anger bubbling inside him and Sam’s fear and nerves taking him over, she realizes the answer won’t be a good one.

Sam swallows nervously, “Um… yes?” he slowly answers, “She’s been teaching me on and off for about a few years now.”

His body going tense, Steve sighs, “I think I’m done here.” He stands, brushing his knees off, clearing the red dust from them before turning to Natasha, “I’ll see you in our tent. Goodnight.”

She mutters a quick ‘Goodnight’ in return and Steve marches off, leaving the tension in the air even thicker.

The humiliation making Willie uncharacteristically lose her appetite, she too stands, shaking the dust from herself and wiping her hands on her hips, “Come on Sam, I think we should turn in too.” She averts her attention to Thor, still on the ground and nearly finished with his food, “You’re welcome to bunk with us if you’d like, unless you had someone else in mind.”

She doesn’t, however give him any time to respond, and is marching off to her and Sam’s shared tent at the head of camp, Sam trailing behind her. He knows better not to question her now, despite the burning want inside him to do so.

As they walk away from the bonfire, the heat and the light both decrease. The moon has not yet risen fully and the land is dark, barely light enough to see the way through the field. The red ground looks like blood and the trees look black in this lack of light.

The two walk in silence, passing the rock Willie was perched on earlier in the day to welcome the new group to her home. Willie gives it a sideways glance, not thinking much of it but remembering her words to the people.

Had it not moved, she never would have seen it. However it did move, and it makes Willie double take. Sitting lonely and slumped on the boulder is a furry creature in a jumpsuit, clutching a small piece of paper.

Willie takes a moment to recall the name of this creature before calling to him, “Rocket?” Her sudden voice startle both Sam and the raccoon in question.

He turns his head over his shoulder, already knowing who beckons him. “Oh hey, blondie,” he says meekly, turning his eyes back to his paws.

Taking a few cautious steps up to the boulder, Willie lowers her voice slightly, asking in the kindest tone she can muster, “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Rocket just shrugs, “I dunno, didn’t really want to mix in with the rest of them.” He pauses for a moment, “Not my kinda crowd…”

Sam and Willie exchange glances of pity. She steps up to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder and muttering into his ear in Gallifreyan, “Go on, I’ll be fine.” The Winchester nods and taps her arm lightly before walking along, leaving her alone with the raccoon.

In the dark, it was hard to climb onto the boulder, much harder than it had been earlier in the day. After her short struggle, she dusts off her knees, smoothing out her combat pants and adjusting her belt so that her large knife doesn’t dig into her side.

“So how are you fairing?” she asks after a sigh. “With being here I mean,” she gestures out into the dark field. Rocket just shrugs, “Fine I guess, nothing I can’t handle.” He keeps his head down, fondling the small, flimsy object in his hands.

Noticing this, Willie leans in, the leather on her belt and her shoulder holsters squeaking, “Whatcha got there?” The raccoon leans away slightly, but less than Willie anticipated. He instinctively folds the paper in his hands, “Just a photo,” he reaches a paw to push Willie away, “Give me some space, would ya?”

She willingly scoots back, eyeing him as he brings the photo back out, carefully examining it with a fond smile. “Is it a picture of them?” Willie asks in a low voice, afraid of the answer she might receive.

Rocket darts his head up. He stares her downer, her eyes sad and old. She bites her lip and swallows nervously. For a minute, Rocket pitties this woman. He remembers Willie from a few hours before the battle, she lay on the table next to Thor, on the brink of death. It’s hard to believe she’s already up and moving like she is.

He takes a moment before nodding sadly, “Yeah.” A pale hands reaches toward the raccoon. Its long fingers were calloused, the knuckles scabbed over, and the nails dirty with red ground. “May I see?” Willie almost chokes on her words.

The photo is passed to her and Willie lifts it to her face, the darkness making the photo’s contents hard to make out. It is clear what’s in the picture, however. It’s all of them. All six of them; Rocket, Groot, the blue man, the bug girl, the green woman, and him. Peter stood almost all the way to the right, smiling brighter than Willie could have possibly remembered.

The raccoon watches Willie look at the picture as fondly as he had before asking, “How did you know him again?”

Willie chuckles and then sighs, “We go way back, Peter and I.” She rubs her thumb over him in the photo, wiping dust from his torso, “I met him back when I still did bounty hunting jobs. Gotta make money somehow,” she laughs lightly, “he always was so fun to be around.”

“That doesn’t sound like Quill,” Rocket sits up on the rock, adjusting himself into a more bearable position.

She just shakes her head, “No, he was great.” There’s a brief pause before she continues, “I was in such a dark place when I met him. He really helped me through a lot.” Willie sighs once more, brushing a piece of hair that had fallen into her face, “You never really understand how much a smile can make things better until you need one.”

With one last look at Peter’s smile she mutters to herself in Gallifreyan, “I’m sorry my friend.” She passes the picture back to Rocket, who glances at Groot before folding it neatly and stuffing it back in his jumpsuit.

Holding back a sniffle, she leans a hand up and nudges him gently, “You should go on to sleep. You need your rest. Thought of who you’re gonna bunk with?”

Rocket struggles for a moment to stand but eventually does, brushing himself off and sighing, “Yeah, Thor and I are sharing one with some guy named Bruce maybe. He was still on the fence about it.” He looks down to see more dust still clinging to him, “Christ, this shit is everywhere, how do you live like this?”

Willie chuckles, rolling off the rock herself, “You learn to live with it.” She lands on the ground with a thud. She turns around and looks up at Rocket, “Goodnight Rocket, sleep well and come to my tent if you need anything.”

The raccoon nods, still furiously dusting himself off, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The blond Gallifreyan only chuckles before marching off.

***

When Willie reaches her tent, she stands there for a moment, examining it. It feels so foreign to her and she doesn’t understand why. It was the same style of tent she slept in when she was in training to become a warrior as a child.

The thin red woolen fabric adorned with black patterns and fringe, the rope made from the same red fibers holding it down, it all brought back so many memories. The symbol of her tribe was plastered on the opening flaps; a black triangle with another, shaded in, triangle sitting inside it, nestled safely at the bottom. Two black lines stood up straight on both side of the triangles.

The symbol was one that represented so much of who Willie was. She isn’t sure if it represents who she is however. That is something that only time amongst her people will tell her. With a deep breath, she walks forward, pushing one of the flaps aside to enter the fabric structure.

Sam sits up straight. He was lying on the bed mats on the floor, staring up at nothing prior to Willie’s entrance and she can tell.

“Hey,” he says, unsure of how else to address her.

She comes in, taking off her belt and shoulder holsters to sleep, “Hey.”

Sam watches her, flicking his hair out of his face, “So…” he isn’t sure what to say but feels a need to fill the silence.

Willie grunts, “What?”

The Winchester crosses his legs, adjusting himself, “So how is everything? Alright?” Willie turns around, going to lay on her bed mat next to his, “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Her voice is flat and Sam sighs, “Willie, look, this isn’t your-”

“Stop,” she interrupts, “No offense Sam, but I don’t want to hear it right now. I get it, you’re going to give me the old fashioned Winchester, ‘This isn’t your fault and we’re gonna fix it together’ speech. I get it.” She lays down, arms folded neatly on her stomach almost like a mummy, “Now just let me sleep.”

He watches her close her eyes, settling in for the night. Sam sighs before laying on his side, turned away from her, “Goodnight, Willie.”

“In Gallifreyan,” she demands. He only huffs, “Yaratov myul.”

***

The sun shines down brightly on the green lawn. The wet grass glistens in its light, sending a cool, humid air into Willie’s lungs. She takes in a large, deep breath.

All the colors of Earth never ceased to send her into a state of awe. The blue sky, yellow sun, green leaves, brown tree trunks, white clouds. Everything was just so alive. She smiles, feeling the coolness of the breeze blow through her hair.

It’s been a long time since she felt this. This happiness that came just from looking at Earth. She was such a beautiful planet, why anyone would wish to harm her is a concept Willie can’t quite grasp.

Being on Earth made her feel free. Freedom from her past, freedom from who she used to be and all the mistakes she made. A freedom she intends to never let go of.

“Hey Wills,” Dean calls behind her back, locking the door of his black impala, “are you coming or not?”

Willie whips around, smoothing out the fake FBI suit jacket she wore. “Of course, darling. Just was admiring the view.” She smirks and walks up to Dean. He pulls her in by the small of her back, muttering in her ear, “Which view would that be?”

She leans back to look him in his green eyes, “The woods, you idiot,” she chuckles, straightening his tie, “Why would I need to look at you when I wake up to you every morning?”

Dean smirks back at her, leaning forward, “You little-”

A loud sound of skin smacking something hollow pulls them from their trance. Sam takes his hand off the hood of the car and scolds them, “Guys, we’re in the middle of something.” He takes one last look at himself in the reflection of the impala’s window, “You two can make out or whatever it is you do later.”

“Really, Sammy?” Dean asks, aggravated, “Can I not have two seconds with my woman? Two?”

“No, Dean, people are dying, we have work…” Sam trails off, Dean interrupting him periodically as they argue. Willie just chuckles, her love for her boys swelling inside her.

“Kheromoksyl,” a voice whispers to Willie from somewhere beyond her view. A panic sets in, her hearts racing faster than she can comprehend. “Kheromoksyl,” it calls again. She’s panting now, wondering who could have known to say that.

“Who’s there? How do you know my name?” She calls to the emptiness. “Kheromoksyl,” the voice is getting louder, but still no one is in sight.

“Kheromoksyl,” the voice shouts in her ears and she shuts her eyes in pain, the world going dark.

***

Willie’s eyes go wide, her breathing heavy but slowing the more she is awake. When she observes her surroundings, she breathes a sigh of relief. She’s in her tent, with Sam, on Gallifrey.

The images in her dream flash back to her as she begins to fully remember it. The dark red and black of the tent and the ground beneath her is a stark contrast to her dream. Life is always a disappointment compared to dreams. Dreams are colorful and everything you want, but real life is often bleak and lacks the color of paradise.

It feels for a moment, that Willie has woken up in hell. That idea, however, might not be too far fetched.

Feeling hot for the first time in centuries, Willie takes off her long sleeved green top, leaving her in a black sports bra and her cargo pants. Sweat slickens her body and she suddenly feels choked in the small tent with Sam. Glancing at his body, she watches him rise and fall, sound asleep.

With a bit more difficulty than she was expecting, Willie stands. She quietly takes careful steps out of the tent, making sure not to let too much moonlight in while Sam sleeps.

Stepping back out into the camp, she pans her eyes around. The bonfire had died down, the field was deserted, and faint sounds of snoring could be heard if you really listened.

Willie looks to the west, toward the river. Since coming back to Gallifrey, she hasn’t seen the river once. The river that played such a huge part in her childhood had laid univisited. Feeling herself already walking to it, Willie slips into the treeline.

Walking a faint beaten path, the blond soaks up all the sounds of the forest. The northern breeze rolls through the trees, singing its song to Willie on her pilgrimage. She wanders deeper into the woods, the clearing becoming farther and farther away.

Up ahead the river presents itself. She was long and winding. Her water was a red, slightly murky, color. The slope of the mountain where she was born kept her running enough to be clear but she was still calm enough to not make too much noise.

The treeline ends where her banks begin, the ground sloping into her gradually and darkening with moisture. The river wasn’t too wide, either. She was only about 300 feet at her widest point.

Unlike the people that drink from her, the river is gentle and loving. Willie remembers taking solace in knowing she was there. Approaching her now is by far the easiest thing Willie’s done in a long time. There was no question or doubt in her mind this was right.

She steps towards the waters, hearing a squishing sound beneath her. Willie looks down to see her boots sinking ever so slightly in the mud close to the river. Willie walks back up to dry land, eagerly untying her laces, tucking her socks neatly inside the shoes once they’re off.

Practically running to the water, Willie feels a rush deep within her come back to life. It’s the rush of being someplace familiar, a place you know better than anything.

Upon reaching the ends of the banks, the blond takes a step into the river, allowing the water to cover her ankles. In that moment, she forgets everything, all is lost in her mind as she concentrates on only the feeling of the river, her river, hugging her softly.

The moment ends however, when Willie sits in the mud, feeling the buttons of the pockets on her pants dig into her thighs. This small thing is a big reminder of why she’s here. If only it were as simple as was in Willie’s small moment of clarity.

Picking up a small stone next to her, Willie turns it over in her fingers, swiping the mud from it. With her mind lost in thought, she continues turning it over.

Don’t forget where your loyalties lie. The words of the High Priestess ring in Willie’s ears. Of course now that she’s back where she belongs, things would go back to the way they used to be. Right? Why would she think any different? Just because she’s been away from home for 1300 years doesn’t mean that she is suddenly absolved from her duties to her home. She took an oath to protect the city and its people.

But what of Earth? What of Asgard? Does she not have a duty to them? Surely just because they aren’t ‘her kind,’ doesn’t mean they are less deserving of her protection or care.

The questions swim through Willie’s mind. A frustration begins to grow within her, and this time, she can’t punch her way out of it.

Squeezing the now clean stone in her fist, Willie reaches an arm back and throws it. The stone flys out over the river before jumping against its surface three times. On the fourth touch, it sinks into the current, surely being swept away by the river’s gentle hold.

With a sigh, Willie looks up into the sky. The first sun was just beginning to rise. She didn’t realize she had been sitting there so long. Birds tweet in the distance, the symbol of a new day dawning.

Lifting herself from the mud, Willie walks to the dry shore. She reaches down to grab her boots, hooking the laces onto her fingers. Reaching the treeline, she gives one last look to the river, her only childhood comfort. Her chest heaves with a sigh and Willie turns, beginning her trek back down the path to camp.

**TAG LIST**

[laprimevere]

Get to Know Me Uncomfortably Well


I got tagged by @inkxlenses .  :)  I’m going to leave out the questions I have no answers to.

Name: Rebecca

Birthday: May 5th

Age: 36

Birthplace: Cologne, Germany

Star Sign: Taurus

Ancestry/Ethnicity: German

Height: 167 cm

Favorite Colors: Blue, Purple, Teal

Place you wish you were at: I’m usually where I want to be.  ;)

Most beautiful place you’ve been to: Florence

Dream Trip: I’d really like to re-visit Prague and London some time, perhaps get a chance to see France. It would be interesting to visit Castle Neuschwanstein in Bavaria, but it’s so overrun with tourists...

Average Hours of Sleep: This is a weird question... anything between three and ten - I don’t really have a regular sleep-rhythm.

Number of Siblings: none

Tell me about the last foreign movie you watched in the cinema: I’m not a fan of going to the cinema (the noise, the German dubbing, the endless advertisments, always someone taller sitting in front of me...), so it’s been a while: Disney’s The Lion King back in the ‘90s. It was nice but not a movie I’d care to re-watch because the story was not my cup of tea. Actually, I was never that fond of the celebrated so-called Disney renaissance of the 1990s. If we’re talking Disney I’m either more for the classics like Lady & the Tramp or recent efforts like Maleficent, Tangled or The Jungle Book.

As to movies in general, if I hear about something interesting I usually wait for the DVD-release so that I can watch it in the original language and at peace at home.

Tell me about the last book you’ve read: Murder on the Sugarland Express which is, as the title might let you suspect, a humourous take on the Agatha Christie classic. In non-fiction, I’m currently reading a biography of Catherine the Great. The last non-fiction book I finished was The Emperor’s Private Paradise. Treasures from the Forbidden City about Chinese garden architecture in the 18th century.

Tell me about the last song you listened to: Chasing the Sun by Sara Bareilles. I love her take on harmonies and the flexibility of her voice.

Tell me about the last fanfic you’ve read: That’s a guilty pleasure I’ll keep to myself.  ;)

Favorite type of music: I like a variety of styles: rock, pop, folk, classical, ballet-scores, musicals / showtunes, soundtracks - it depends on my mood and the individual artist. It can be 19th century music, 1940s swing, ‘60s pop or last month’s release, I try anything - therefore I’m going to skip the questions for favourite artists and bands because otherwise we’ll be here all day.

Do you play an instrument? No.

Languages you can fluently speak, read and write (not a language you study): German, English

What song do you want to be played at your funeral? Isn’t that a bit morbid? Seriously, I have no idea - I didn’t even know this was a thing...

Favorite Sports: I used to take ballet lessons as a girl.

Favorite Books: This could take a while...so many books, so little time. I will just try to choose some favourites: Watership Down (Richard Adams), The Crystal Cave / The Hollow Hills / The Last Enchantment (Mary Stewart), Murder Must Advertise (Dorothy Sayers), The Count of Monte Christo (Alexandre Dumas), The Once and Future King (T.H. White), Whom the Gods Love (Kate Ross), The Woman in White (Wilkie Collins), Children of the Night (Mercedes Lackey), The Daughter of Time (Josephine Tey), The Jungle Books (Rudyard Kipling), The Ryiria Revelations (Michael J. Sullivan), Kim (Rudyard Kipling), Theatre (William Somerset Maugham), Jubilee Trail (Gwen Bristow), The Song of Achilles (Madeline Miller).

Favorite childhood books: Mary Poppins (Pamela Travers), The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett), Pünktchen und Anton (Erich Kästner), The Wind in the Willows (Kenneth Graham), Little Women (Louisa M. Alcott), Anne of Green Gables (Lucy Maud Montgomery).

Favorite Movies: I have to choose again!?  :) Oh well... Some Like it Hot, His Girl Friday, The Court Jester, Arsenic and Old Lace, Easter Parade, Fried Green Tomatoes, Watership Down, Pirates of the Caribbean, La Belle et la Bête, Winchester 73, To Catch a Thief, Victor/Victoria, My Man Godfrey, Me and the Colonel - as with music and books, I’m interested in lots of different genres and themes, so choosing favourites is not easy.

Favorite TV Shows: Robin of Sherwood, Boston Legal, The Blacklist, Castle (seasons 1-5), White Collar, The Musketeers (BBC). There are probaly more but this is what comes to mind first.

Favorite Anime: Gundam Wing

Favorite Manga: God Child

Favorite Food: a lot of things but you can’t go wrong with pasta.

Do you have any fitness routine/ diet plans? No

What You’re Wearing Right Now: lots of layers - it’s freezing outside.

Current Number of Followers: 4552. I’m sure there are several dead / abandoned accounts etc. among them but all in all I am amazed at the fact that my crazy collection of pretty pictures interests anyone out there. Thank you!

Number of Blogs you follow: 24. I try not to spend all my time online. ;)

What made you decide to have a tumblr blog: I like the format and it seemed a good way to collect and share beautiful pictures of art, fashion and everything else I’m interested in.

Do you have any other blogs? No. I’m on goodreads, but that’s it.

Describe your personal style: Old-fashioned classic but has to be comfortable. Lots of skirts and flowing materials, high heels. Think 1950′s but thankfully we now have stretch-materials. Jeans and sweaters / shirts when I’m working with kids.

Pets: 5 cats.

Tea or Coffee: neither

Dog-person or Cat-person: Cat-person, obviously. ;)

Introvert or Extrovert: Uhm... a litlle bit of both?

Favorite swear word: Aha, it’s getting personal.  ;)  Shit. Fits every situation.

When was the last time you went to the hospital, and what for? In 1981. It was my birth.  :)

What qualities are you looking for an ideal partner: Someone I can talk to with interests similar to mine. Trust me, that’s not as easy as it sounds.

Famous last words:  “Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be, because sooner or later, if you are posing, you will forget the pose, and then where are you?” Fanny Brice 

 I tag: Whoever would like to do this.  :)

[pedroscurls]

Title: Coffee Date

Anonymous requested: Hello I saw you opened the request, could you do something super fluffly with max please?

Character(s): Max and Reader Summary: Since Max wasn’t going to make the first move, you take him by surprise and ask him out for coffee. Word Count: 1,509 Warning: None. Author’s Note: THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING MAX!!! He’s my bby so any type of fluff, I will take and give to him lol. I wanted to change it up and instead of Max going in and asking, I wanted the Reader to take initiative. So, I hope this suffices for the anon who requested this and I hope you enjoy as well! :-)

(GIF Source: @heartfulloffandoms)

Since starting your new job in New York, you were struggling to find an apartment before the new school year. So, when you stumbled upon Max’s apartment complex, you weren’t expecting a beautiful apartment with an even more beautiful view to be affordable. You certainly weren’t expecting your landlord to be extremely handsome as well.

Now that you settled into your new apartment and the school year had begun, you were waiting for Max to make his move. The two of you spent almost every night together by having dinner and a glass of wine. He helped you cook, but there were some nights where he brought the food. Regardless, you had grown feelings for him and you tried to leave him subtle hints to let him know that you liked him. But, he never said anything. He never asked you out. Instead, the dinners simply continued as if it was just two friends hanging out.

Today that was going to change. Working as an English professor at a nearby community college allowed you to have certain days off for national holidays. With Labor Day fast approaching, you took this opportunity to ask Max out. If he wasn’t going to do it, then you would take a risk and ask him out yourself.

After dressing in a thin spaghetti strapped, sleeveless, yellow sundress that reached your shins, you slid on your sandals and walked out of your apartment. Your make-up remained light and your hair was in its natural state—you remembered what Max said about liking the way your hair looked when it wasn’t tied in a bun.

You stood in front of his door with your heart beating rapidly against your chest. You could feel a sweat build at your brow when you finally decided to knock. It had taken a while before he opened the door, but when you saw him, you immediately smiled. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt that was tucked into his dark brown slacks. His hair wasn’t in its usual disheveled state, and for a moment, you wondered if you had interrupted him and his plans.

“Hey,” he smiled.

“H—Hi… I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a cup of coffee. It’s my day off, and I figured I’d spend it with you,” you blushed.

Max felt his heart melt. Not many women took initiative like you did. In fact, he had grown the courage to finally ask you out, but you had beat him to it. He was dressed for the occasion, so instantly, he agreed. It made him feel special and wanted for once. Meeting you had made his life much better than he thought was possible. In the beginning, he had gone beneath the walls to spy, but after the daily dinners, Max didn’t find the need to do it anymore.

He started to believe that you were going to be the one to take him out of the darkness, to take him out of the walls.

“That sounds like an amazing idea,” Max finally replied.

You followed him out of the apartment building where you offered to walk to the closest coffee shop. Max didn’t mind and he even held the door open for you in a gentleman-like fashion. It made you blush and you wondered if this would be considered as a date because you found yourself staring at him, but you also noticed Max’s eyes lingering on you. There was a tension in the air that thickened as the day progressed.

“So, your little brother accidentally punched you in the face because you forgot to duck?” Max chuckled.

“I didn’t expect him to throw a legitimate punch!” You smiled, sipping at your cup of coffee as Max led you out of the coffee shop and towards the nearby park. It was weird, but comfortable to know that time could easily pass so quickly when you were with him. You had so much fun with him that you seemed to forget the concept of time.

“That’s cute,” he smiled. “I can just see the look on your face…”

“Yeah, me too,” you giggled.

After crossing the street, Max led you to a vacant bench. Sitting down next to him, you smiled at the various families and couples along the grass. The view of the bridge was absolutely amazing and you noticed Max scooting closer to you.

“Can I ask you something?” Max asked.

“Sure,” you replied, turning your head to look up at him. His eyes were gorgeous in this light and his beard that was slightly tinged with grey made him much more handsome.

Max hesitated. Sitting so close to you made him nervous and he had picked up on your hints, but his grandfather’s constant verbal abuse managed to make him distance himself from you. Though, seeing you today and hearing that you wanted to spend your day off with him was a confirmation that Max didn’t know he needed. It proved to him that you liked him for him and while he did have an unhealthy and unusual secret, there was something about you that he knew you would accept him for it.

“Why did you pick me to spend your day off with?”

You kept your eyes focused on his. You had set your coffee down on the ground near your feet and turned your body just slightly to face him. Your leg brushed against his and you heard Max take a deep breath.

“Because I like you, Max,” you admitted. “I have liked you for the past few months…”

“You do?” He asked.

“Is it so hard to believe? You’re charming, funny, handsome, and a complete gentleman… You’re the complete package, Max.”

He blushed, moving an arm to drape at the back of the bench. By this gesture, you scooted closer and rested your body firmly against his own. You felt safe being so close to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

You laughed quietly. Hesitantly, you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “From the minute I laid eyes on you…”

Max pulled back and bit his lower lip. Today was proving that he was worth it, that he was capable of being loved by someone as special and beautiful like you. Slowly, he turned his gaze to look at the bridge.

You furrowed a brow and realized that he may have not felt the same way. So, you slowly began to distance yourself from him before you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders to pull you close to his side. It was a subtle gesture that Max liked you too. Hesitantly, you rested your cheek against his shoulder in which Max leaned to rest his cheek at the crown of your head.

“I’m not like anyone you’ve ever met before,” Max began. “I’m trouble…”

“I do like bad boys,” you laughed.

Max smiled, but he shook his head slightly. “No one’s ever made me feel like I was worth their attention until I met you,” he admitted.

“Well, lucky me because now I’ve got you all to myself.”

Max’s eyes lit up. He held you closer and hesitantly leaned down to kiss your forehead. When he felt you snuggling closer to him, he smiled. For once in his life, he felt genuinely happy.

“I want to show you something.” Max stood from the bench and took your hand. Almost immediately, he laced your fingers together and led you away from the park and back to the apartment building. You smiled at the feel of his hand, looking up at him as you used your free hand to rest on his forearm. Max looked over his shoulder at you, smiling to himself.

The sun was close to setting, so Max led you through the stairs of the apartment complex. Instead of going on your floor, he led you straight to the rooftop. Once he opened the door, you were taken aback by the beautiful view.

“Max…” You smiled.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

You nodded, releasing his hand to look around the beautiful city skyline. The sun was setting slowly and the bridge and the sound of laughter coming from people passing the building made you grin. It made you wonder why Max said he was trouble and how no one has ever made him feel the way that he did.

“It’s breathtaking…” You replied.

Max stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. He leaned down and pecked your lips lightly. The kiss took you by surprise, but you immediately melted into him.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered against your lips.

You pulled away to look into his eyes. Your hands rested on his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. Being in his arms like this felt so normal like you belonged there.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” You asked quietly.

Max’s eyes widened and a slow grin lined his lips. “I have to walk the beautiful girl back home after our date, right?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Exactly.”

Forever Taglist (let me know if you want to be removed!): @a-girl-interupted || @alyisdead || @ashzombie13 || @ask-kakashihatake || @asshatry || @chunex || @constellationsolo || @disfigured-it-out || @dixonsbait || @fiftypercentmoreintoyou || @fyeahashley88 || @harleysandbats || @hawtdiggitynegan || @heartfulloffandoms || @holyjeffreydeanmorgan || @hotfornegan || @i-am-negan-trash || @ibelongtonegan || @ididntasktogetmadedidi || @isayweallgetdrunk || @jane00doe || @jasoncrouse || @jeffreydeanneganstrash || @jenniegs || @k4veggies || @labyrinthofheartagrams || @ladyynegan || @laymetorest77 || @ledger-kaos || @magikat409 || @may85 || @meanandshallow || @multireality || @myheart4ever47 || @naughtyneganjdm || @negan--is--god || @oceanicseries || @purplemuse89 || @ridingmoxley || @sable-the-trans-ham || @scentofpineandhazelnutlattes || @see-you-then-winchester || @spn-cw123 || @sweetsweetpeach || @waddiwasi44 || @warriorqueen1991 || @zombeeemomeee 

[quiddy-writes]

Fifty Shades of Fucked Up

So, this is what happens when @kayteonline , @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid , and I have a group chat. And then Kayte sends me this. What was I supposed to do?! @saxxxology is sad that she wasn't in the group chat, but she was in England without us, so fuck her.

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader Words: 960ish Summary: Dean Winchester has some very singular kinks Warnings: Swearing; hardcore kinkshaming; making a lot of fun of 50 Shades of Grey because I hate it; cum shampoo (mentioned); one character talking frankly about their sexual kinks and it going just…oh goodness, awesome for everyone involved

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Dean Winchester was the most eligible bachelor in the entire world. One of the richest men on the planet, regularly topping Forbes’ Top 100 Most Influential People, and unfairly gorgeous to boot, any woman in her right mind would be at the very least moist if he was within sight.

Even Y/N was not immune.

When she’d fallen face first into his office for an interview like she was a damsel in a terrible romance novel, her panties were ruined. Then he began answering her terrible questions, and he actually seemed to be flirting with her.

She was an average-looking English student who, for some reason, didn’t understand how early twenty-somethings worked, almost like she was written by a housewife who still called it “The Facebook.”

With almost no real personality and looking more like a mouse than a human, why on earth would Dean fucking Winchester be interested in her?

It made absolutely no sense.

But, here they were, in his stupidly amazing loft, furiously making out. He had her pinned against the wall, using every glorious inch of his broad, toned body to hold her down. She couldn't escape even if she tried and, though that should've terrified her because he was definitely a sociopath, it instead went right to her panties. She had to press her thighs together to alleviate some of the burning desire curling up inside her.

His plush lips kissed and nipped at every inch of skin he found, going from her lips to her jaw to her neck and ever downwards. She tugged at his tie, snatching it from his neck.

That seemed to snap him out of his reverie, and he pulled back just enough to remain close to her, but far enough that she couldn’t recapture his lips with her own. “Wait,” he said breathlessly.

“Why?” she whimpered.

“There’s something you should know about me.”

Immediately, her thoughts went to the worst place. “Oh god, you have herpes, don’t you?”

“What?” he frowned, his perfect face marred by his confusion. “No, I’m clean. I’m not—I always use protection.”

“Oh, okay. Good. Awesome.”

“No,” he started again. “My desires are…unconventional.”

“So show me,” Y/N whispered.

With that, Dean took her hand and led him down the halls of his loft. He didn’t stop until they reached the end of the hall, turning his deep emerald eyes to her, as though he wasn’t sure she was still following him. She responded by squeezing his hand, lightly. She even smiled softly, like she was trying to comfort him, though she was nervous as all hell herself at the moment.

He pushed the door open slowly, revealing the master bedroom. It was gorgeous, full of modern furniture swatched in shades of grey. She was pulled past the bed towards a non-descript, slightly open white door on the other end of the large room.

He opened it to reveal a lavish bathroom, with a luxury glass shower and even a bath tub with jets inside it. Y/N melted just at looking the gorgeous room.

Dean finally pulled her to the shower, only letting go of her hand once they were at the door. He leaned in, grabbing a plain bottle from the bottom of the shower. She frowned, taking the bottle when it was handed to her, but mostly just looking as confused as she felt. “What is this?”

“It’s a shampoo bottle.”

There was a pause as she tried to figure out what the hidden meaning was. “Okay…”

She refused to look at him, but she could feel his gaze practically burning through her hand where she held the bottle. “I like to have sex, then finish in the girl’s hair. Then I have to watch her use my cum as shampoo.”

The sentence had barely left his lips before Y/N was at the toilet, vomiting up every single thing she’d ever eaten in her entire life. She was pretty sure she saw her ninth birthday cake make an appearance.

Dean waited by the shower as she vomited, shifting his feet awkwardly.

When Y/N finally was done worshipping the porcelain God, she turned to Dean.

“That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s just—”

“No, no!” she shouted. “Don’t say it, I’ll throw up again.”

“I really think you’re acting childish.”

“And I think you’re a sick fuck,” she retorted, pushing herself up on wobbly knees. “I am so out of here.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, no way are you hot enough for this shit.”

“I’m handsome, I’m rich, and—”

“And a sick fuck,” she breezed right past him.

Dean sputtered for a moment, unsure how exactly this was happening to him. After a beat of silence, he ran after her, chasing her to his combination front door/elevator.

She was inside, viciously attacking the lobby button, and he barely made it in time.

“Please,” he began, looking like a kicked puppy. “Please don’t go.”

“No,” she shook her head almost violently. “No, you are not rich or hot or anything enough for-for…God, you’re a pervert.”

“I really don’t—it’s really not that bad.”

“‘Not that bad?!’” Y/N screeched loud enough to almost break the glass wall that gave a spectacular view of the city below them. “You want me to wash—and I use that term very loosely—my hair in your semen?!”

“Well, you have to understand, my mother—”

“No, just because something shitty happened to you doesn’t mean you get to be a sick fuck,” Y/N cut him off. “So, you know, thanks, but, also, maybe go fuck yourself.”

With that, the doors to the elevator closed, leaving Dean Winchester with one last image of the girl who got away: Y/N trying not to vomit in the elevator.

Everything Tags: @carrollmomx3 @raylin19 @spnhybrid @thinkwritexpress-official @wayward-marvel-and-more @writingbeautifulmen @xfanqirlinq

Dean Tags: @akshi8278 @gallxntdean @loveissupernatural

Pond Tags: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @bkwrm523 @salvachester @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @for-the-love-of-dean @mysupernaturalfics @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @fiveleaf @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @ilovedean-spn2 @babypieandwhiskey @wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @supermoonpanda @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @revwinchester @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @inmysparetime0 @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @melbelle45 @winchester-family-business

@mrswhozeewhatsis Tags: @vintagevalentinexx @bowtiesandapplepie @itsemmyb @ezauraemmaline @matteson-crazed @castielspahdehrah @charliesbackbitches @crzcorgi @ellen-reincarnated1967 @gryffindorable713 @deerlululucy @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @MrsJohnSmith @growleytria @thegleegeneration @samtomydeanwinchester @i-never-said-a-pilot @thewinchestielboys @sis-tafics @amaranthinecastiel @meganwinchester1999 @kittenofdoomage @samanddeanwinchester67 @prettyxwickedxthings @ferferelli @lilyoflothlorien @myfand0msandm0re @olitzisbae @iridianuniverse @the-morning-star-falls @shortandlongstories @strange-inhumanity @ackleslaugh @noisilyyoungpuppy @fangirling-instead-of-working @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @chrisatplay @spnsimpleman @kreborn17 @mamaimpala @winchesterfiesta @zanthiasplace @sleep-silent-angel @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @trenchcoats-and-bees @jencharlan @not-so-natural-spn @skybinx-blog @thebunkerismyhome @feelmyroarrrr @beachy2014 @fandom-book-nerd @tia58 @sams-little-toy @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @saving-things-hunting-family @winchesterswoonathon @jotink78 @lucifer-in-leather @i-dont-know-how-to-write @everyday-supernatural-af @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @avasmommy224 @angelwingsandsupernaturalthings @mysaintsasinner @besslincoln-bruh @wheresthekillswitch @shelovesallthethings @klaineaholic @supernaturalismalife @pinknerdpanda @hexparker @atwistoffate

[zmediaoutlet]

11:11 7: Mission to Moscow

I was tagged by @purgatoan​ to do this question meme again--thank you, dear! (Although somehow in the interim it turned into only ten questions? I can’t have that, it screws up my numbering scheme.) Let’s do this!

Rules: answer 11, ask 11, tag 11. (Or ten, but really--eleven.)

1. Do you prefer to listen to albums or separate songs? Why?

Oh, that so depends. I listen to my Spotify collection on random a lot, but there are some albums that are just--magnificent, all the way through. Pearl Jam’s Ten, Led Zeppelin I, The Fragile by Nine Inch Nails. I LOVE listening to concert albums straight through, too. The truth is, unfortunately, that in these modern days of mostly-streaming, albums aren’t terribly well-constructed most of the time. A lot of the songs lack dynamism, they don’t flow together well, etc. That might be changing as more hipstery sorts of bands release things on vinyl, though. Let’s hope so!

2. Do you like chocolate? If so, which type the most?

Oh, sure! Mostly milk to semi-dark. White chocolate is an abomination, and once you get above about 85% dark chocolate is more of an endurance trial than anything else. But a nice Ghirardelli with sea salt, around 70%? Mm. Yum.

3. A month without sweets or a month without food you like most, what would be harder to live through?

Oh god, a month without my favorite food--which I guess I’d say is Mexican, in this case. Fuck sweets, I need salsa. Ack. 

4. Ebooks or paperbacks?

Electronic versions all the way. I’m faced with almost daily amazement at how I can be carrying literally thousands of books in my phone, and they weigh less than air. Isn’t that amazing? How are we not all just jumping up and down at how incredible living in the future is?

5. What’s the outfit you feel the most comfortable in?

Jeans, sneakers, baseball shirt. I would slouch around like that at least 75% of the time if I could. Alas, situational awareness dictates that sometimes I not look like I did in high school. Drat. (Also lbr, I like pretty frillies too much.)

6. How do you deal with stress? What do you do to get your mind off of it?

Actual stress, I need to be around comfy people--this is mostly my mom and dad, or my best friend. (This is difficult since they are often not available/in a different city.) I then need to talk about/watch/do anything else. I don’t deal with stress or anxiety by actually talking about the stressful thing--my mind will deal with it on its own, it just needs time to process. Shove it down into the subconscious and let the steam slowly escape by having a few beers and watching The Social Network or Archer or something, and by the time a few hours have passed, the subconscious will have sorted it out and then I can deal with it in a more rational way. No crying and dwelling, here--it just makes me upset. (I empathize strongly with the Winchesters on this, btw.)

7. Share one of your wishes/dreams?

I have a fantasy of signing up for one of those online dating services and finding a good guy to share things with. This is... like, highly attainable. But I also want to work on myself for a while, first. I’m nearly comfortable with myself, but I also realized with my previous relationships that I never really settled in them, never wanted to be in them really, and so--I want to be the kind of person who can fully engage in a relationship and not feel like it’s a distraction from whatever else I have going on. That’s still a little ways in the distance, I think. Still. It’d be nice.

8. Is there something you want to do/try/read/whatever that you’re putting off, but without any particular reason, aka you can do it, but you just don’t?

...Whoops, I kind of presaged this question with my answer to the previous one. Well, on a different thing: yes, absolutely. All the time. I am awful about procrastination and always have been. To pick one thing, that isn’t too bad: I want to read all of Barbara Kingsolver’s books. I’ve got Prodigal Summer sitting on my bedside table, and I keep looking at it and not reading it. Honestly, the internet is the problem. If I just resolved never to go on reddit again, I’d get so much more interesting stuff done.

9. A famous person/band/etc. you’d like to meet and talk for hours with?

Oh no. I actually really don’t want to meet... 99% of famous people. I guess the ‘talk for hours’ part might make it better. Actually--you know who would probably be cool? David Mitchell, the British comedian. I feel like I could actually have a conversation with him and not be so awful and dull in comparison that I’d just be wasting his time.

10. How many languages do you speak?

Erm. One and seven-eighths, which is comprised of English (one, and duh), Spanish (one half), French (one quarter), and Italian (one eighth). I think I did the math right on that. I can absolutely get by in Mexico, but I have to keep asking people to slow down; French I can kind of stagger through, but definitely not well at all and I’d probably switch to Spanish half the time; Italian, jeez. I can probably get directions and order food, and fuck up verb conjugation all over the place. I need way more practice.

Now: new questions, and also tagging lovely people to bother:

1. What’s your favorite animated thing, and why? (Cartoon, anime, whatever.) 2. Name a band that you want everyone to love. Sell us on it. 3. What’s the last fic you read that you loved? 4. Do you have a favorite plant? Show me a picture! 5. What’s one of your personal accomplishments you’re most proud of? 6. What’s your favorite holiday? What’s your least favorite? 7. Tell me about a lazy day thing you like to do. 8. What’s something you just don’t understand? 9. Name one of your favorite tumblr blogs, and tell me why you like it. 10. What’s a skill you wish you had? 11. Tell me about your favorite experience with a random stranger.

@silver9mm, @marrieddorks, @wetsammywinchester, @sal-si-puedes, @baronsamediswife, @nomercles, @chiisana-sukima, @santhebore, @themegalosaurus, @anotherwinchesterfangirl, and I’m tagging you right back, @purgatoan

[voxvulgi]

RANDOM FACTS ABOUT THE MUN.

Repost, not reblog! Tag 6 muns you would like to get to know better when done! Name: Sara Nickname: My favourites are “Intelligent Ape” and “Smoothie” Age: 19 Faceclaim: SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS Pronouns: She/Her Height: 5′5 (I think???) Birthday: May 11th Aesthetic: Loads and loads of unread books, dry mascara tubes, unmade beds, winter, bad coffee, city nights, bookstores, baggy t-shirts and sweaters, glitter mixed with dust (??? so dramatic), and....cereal. Cereal is my mood this summer. Last song you listened to: Demons by Imagine Dragons Favourite muse(s) you’ve written: This is such a mean question, okay?????? You make me???? choose between my children???????? like I can have a favourite child????????????? how dare???????????????

But in all honesty, I have no idea. I enjoy writing all my muses (otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing them. Lmao.) I think they all have their perks and whatever the opposite of perks is (What is English?), so I can’t really choose. I’ll just tell you that I know for sure that Hailey and Adonis are among my absolute favourites.

What inspired you to take on your current muse (that you are posting this on): What inspired me to take on Hailey was the idea of a female Winchester. Like, literally every woman on the show has to be this sexy potential love interest who can kick ass. Not to mention that I am still not over Adam, and since I cannot RP canon characters whatsoever, Hailey, Adam’s twin, became a thing!

What are your favourite aspects of your current muse: Her optimism and the fact that she is so full of love. As a pessimist, I know just how hard it can be to be nice and smiley and kind all the time, so I admire that Hailey can pull this all off. Sure, it’s a wonder how she survives in the world, but you can pry her happy-go-lucky attitude from her cold, dead hands.

What’s your biggest inspiration when it comes to writing: When it comes to writing Hailey, my biggest inspiration is how I wish I was. (dramaaaaa) Favourite types of threads: Extreme angst and fluff are definitely on top of the list. Biggest struggle in regards to your current muse: Writing her sadder moments and less-than-positive thoughts is pretty difficult. I tend to have this collective bitterness in these situations that I display similarly for all my muses. Hailey has her own way of being sad, and I’m always afraid I don’t get it right. Tagged by: @warrioroflondonbelow

Tagging: I already tagged people to do this meme from my other blog soooooo I guess anyone who’d like to!