#ana’s pjo quotes challenge

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Breaking Free

Characters: Dean Winchester, Y/N Winchester, Sam Winchester, Lady Toni Bevel

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings:  season 12.22 spoilers (if that’s still spoilers), not much. SPN stuff. If you can watch the show you can read this.

Word Count: 2100ish

A/N: This is my entry for @percywinchester27 aka Ana’s PJO Quote Challenge and my prompt was: “It's okay,” he said. “We're together.” He didn't say you're okay, or we're alive. After all they'd been through over the last year, he knew that the most important thing was that they were together. She loved him for saying that. - I changed the prompt a little bit to fit the fic. I hope that is okay.  

Thanks to the sweet, amazing, lovely @like-a-bag-of-potatoes  for betaing this for me.

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

You fell to the floor with your back pushed to the wall and your legs folded up under you as you watched your husband run up the steps to try to catch the door before it closed between the four of you and the world outside.

The moment you heard him scream was the moment you gave up all hope. It was the moment you started believing this was the beginning of the end. It had all happened so sudden. Over the past year you had started believing everything was going to be perfect. Or at least as perfect as it would ever get for hunters.

Lucifer’s baby was still about to be born and you had, like your husband, never trusted the Brits, but Dean was okay. The mark was gone. Amara was gone. For the first time in years you felt as if you had the man you married back. Fully and completely. Dean was himself and as long as you had him, there had never been anything you hadn’t been able to struggle through.

You felt numb and the secret you had been carrying for weeks was weighing you down. You had wanted to tell him for so long. You had just been waiting for the right moment and as the hours passed and the brothers worked with Lady Bevil on a way out, you knew there would never be a perfect moment. You should have told him the moment you found out. Instead here you were, having moved from the floor to a chair with Sam’s help a while ago, but you were still quiet. You saw Dean’s worried looks, you felt his comforting touch. Everytime he had a chance to pass you or to hold your hand, he did. Usually that would have been enough to snap you out of it. To stand up and fight, no matter what enemy you were facing. Even now that the enemy was your own home. But tonight you were just scared. Scared that these would be the last hours you spent on earth.

Dean had gotten you through everything in the past. He had been there for you when you lost your parents as a child and John had taken you in. He had cared for both you and Sam and kept you both safe. You had been lost when you thought you lost him, locking yourself away for months until he showed up on your front door, covered in dirt and with a tired smile on his face. He had been your best friend since you were a child, but being stuck in purgatory with him for over a year had changed that.

You had been in love with him for a long time and later on he had told you he had felt the same for years before he had finally kissed you. A kiss that lit a beacon of hope inside you. In a scary world, surrounded by monsters, you and Dean had been each other’s light in the dark. You had kept each other human and sane. You had helped each other adjust to the world and the loss of Cas when you got back into the world. You had married him when Sam got sick from the trials. You had both needed hope and something to hold onto, so you had let Cas perform the ceremony, with Charlie as a bridesmaid and Sam as the best man, while your surrogate mom Jody had walked you down the aisle.

You had been with each other through ups and downs and even when the mark had changed him, you had stayed by Dean’s side. Even with the pull Amara had on him you had never once lost faith in him. You loved Dean more than anything and you were always able to find him in his own darkness. Dean was always able to give you the courage and will to go on, but tonight his loving, concerned touches and looks weren’t enough. You knew something he didn’t and you felt as if you had failed everyone.

When their plan to turn the power back on failed, you stayed. You stayed put as all hope started to leave you. You moved to the staircase watching the two brothers beat the holy hell out of a concrete wall for hours before giving up. As they did, you ran. You ran through the Bunker and to your bedroom without a word. You let yourself fall down onto your bed, with your back turned against the door and tears streaming down your face.

This couldn’t be the end. This couldn’t be how you died. Of all the ways you thought it would happen, you never once pictured this to be how. Suffocating in the only place in the world that had always made you feel safe. Surrounded by the two people that were the only family you had left and some witch that you wanted to stab in her neck every time she looked at you.

You felt the bed dip behind you and before you had a chance to say or do anything he gently turned you around pulling you against his chest and closing his arms around you. That was when you really let go. Your body shook as you cried against his chest. Dean drew calming patterns on your back, while holding you flush against him, but he never spoke. He just let you cry, knowing that was what you needed right now.

Dean didn’t need to speak to make you feel safe or loved. He never had too. His presence, the way he looked at you, the way he touched you and held you had always been all you ever needed to know, you were his everything. You would always be safe with him and no matter what, Dean would always find away out.

“Dean…” you gasped, trying to regain control of your body and stop the flood of tears falling from your eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Dean whispered, pressing his lips against your hair. His calming voice helping your breathing to settle and your tears to dry out.

“I’m pregnant.” Your voice was barely audible as you buried your face against his chest. You didn’t want to look at him. You were scared of his reaction. This hadn’t been how you wanted to tell him, but you knew time was running out and if this was your last moments together you wanted him to know.

You felt him freeze up for a few seconds before he pulled you impossibly closer against him. You dared to look up into his eyes. The emerald green was swimming behind a sea of tears as his eyes met yours.

“You’re pregnant?” Dean repeated and you couldn’t help but smile at the awe in his voice. You had never planned this. You never would, but the moment you had found out, you knew he would be happy. You had wanted a perfect moment to tell him, but you had been so wrong. Any moment you could have told him would have been perfect. You allowed yourself to be happy in the midst of all your fear as he crashed his lips against yours, taking your breath away.

When he pulled back his smile faded and a look of absolute determination took it’s place. “I’m getting us out of here.” Dean pecked your lips before he rose from the bed, walking down the hall while calling his brother’s name, leaving your confused and slightly worried self behind.

It took you a while to compose yourself, but when the british bitch started screaming at the brothers somewhere from the back of the room the brothers had been trying to break through, you jumped to your feet and ran towards her yelling.

“You’re lunatics. This a colossally stupid idea,” Toni scolded them just as you entered the room and your eyes widened when you saw Dean raise the grenade launcher he was holding.

“Yep. Big, beautiful, and dumb.” He grinned to Sam, who shook his head, smiling back at his big brother. No one but Toni even noticed your presence in the room.

“You’re gonna bring the whole bloody place crashing down. You’re gonna kill us all. Your wife,” she nodded towards you as she addressed you. “Talk some sense into them.”

Dean’s attention instantly went to you when he noticed your presence in the room and you smiled at him, a smile he returned. If this was how you were going to die, you’d go out your own way. Fighting for life and for a life for your child.

You walked up to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek and Dean wrapped his free arm around your waist, hugging you. “Be careful,” you whispered before nodding to Sam who grabbed Lady Bevel, dragging her with you from the room as you both ignored her hissy fit.

“You’re lunatics. Action movie loving, cheeseburger eating, moronic, american lunatics.”

You didn’t listen to her, you just ducked down behind the wall, letting Sam protectively wrap his arm around you. You smiled as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Dean is getting us out. You and my niece or nephew are going to be fine.”   

You knew you should want to kill Dean for not keeping your secret for more than 2 minutes, but given the circumstances you couldn’t blame him, besides, it wasn’t like you had expected him to be able to keep something like that from Sam for long anyway.

Before you had a chance to answer Sam, the explosion sounded and smoke started to fill the Bunker. You both left Toni where you had handcuffed her and scrambled to your feet back to where you had left Dean.

“Dean?” Sam called out as you both headed for the hole in the wall, where a ladder was now visible. Dean had been right, but before either you or Sam had a chance to follow him out or even be happy Dean’s reckless plan might have worked, the wall collapsed and the hole closed.

“Dean!” you screamed, throwing yourself at the bricks, trying to free the hole back up, but Sam pulled you back, coughing. The air was getting thinner.

“He might have gotten out,” Sam insisted, heaving for breath along with you now. The smoke was polluting what limited air supply you had left. “Control room,” he ordered dragging you with him. You were too weak to protest and all you could think about was how you were going to die, parted from the man you loved. He had been in here with you and you had let him leave. You should never have let him leave.

You fell to the floor gasping for breath next to Sam who was struggling as badly as you were. Still he managed to reach for your hand, giving it a small squeeze to let you know weren’t alone. It was little comfort though. You loved Sam like a brother, but he wasn’t the one you needed, the one you loved, or the last person you would want to see if your life was truly over.

In your struggle for air and grief that you’d never see your husband again, you didn’t even notice the lights flickering back on, or the air vents cleaning the air. You didn’t notice anything until with one deep breath your lungs filled with clean air and the fog started lifting from your mind. You took Sam’s hand letting him help you back onto your feet as you both faced the door, creaking open to see Dean limping in with a relieved smile on his face.

“Hey lunatic,” he joked, but you didn’t answer him. Instead you sprinted up the stairs, throwing yourself into his arms, nearly knocking him over. By some miracle he stayed on his feet, wrapping his arms around you.

“It's okay,” Dean said. “We're together.” He didn't say you're okay, or we're alive. After all you had been through, he knew that the most important thing was that you were together. You loved him for saying that.

You pulled back a little, cupping his face as tears of joy streamed from your eyes, “you did it,” you laughed and Dean laughed with you, pulling you back into his arms.

“Don’t squash my niece,” Sam grinned from below you, causing you and Dean to laugh even harder as you looked down at Sam smiling up at you. You were indeed together and and as long as you had each other there was nothing you couldn’t do.

Dean Tag Team

@mizzpink @emoryhemsworth @not-moose-one-shots @sleepylunarwolf @roxyspearing @blacktithe7 @atc74 @mogaruke @mysupernaturalfics @fatalcrossbow @mrswhozeewhatsis @goandsavemyunicorn @crushing83 @arryn-nyxx @superapplepie @salvachester @docharleythegeekqueen  @walkingkhaleeesi @multifandombackpack @ruined-by-destiel @blushingdean @impala-dreamer @winchasterdean @iamabeautifulperson18 @peaceloveancolor @theoriginalvicki @feelmyroarrrr @hexparker @vvinch3st3r @shamelesslydean @katymacsupernatural @elevenofmages @jensen-gal @mysterious-398 @dustycelt @ericaprice2008 @adriellej @ashleydivine @waywardmoeyy @storytimewithylva @canadianjelly @percywinchester27 @featherleaf12 @percussiongirl2017 @sis-tafics @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mayasmedberg  @ruprecht0420 @jayankles @torn-and-frayed @its-not-a-tulpa  @spn-fan-girl-173 @ryantherandomhero @lupine-princess @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @sylverminx @kathaswings @becs-bunker @mery-magizoologist @sandlee44  @sillesworldofwriting @mariahoedt @akshi8278 @michellethetvaddict @samisimportant @wishuponastarlana

[summer-binging-spn]

Life’s Value

Word Count: 952

Warnings: Sadness, mentions of drinking, Dean gone to Hell, Angst, Angry reader

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Tags: @ravengirl94  @mamaredd123 @myplaceofthingsilove @assbutt-still-in-hell @sparklingcas @notnaturalanahi @emoryhemsworth

Author’s Note: This is for @percywinchester27 ‘s Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge. Thank you so so much for allowing me to participate!! And hey I’m early for once, go me! My tag list is open, and I can definitely start a Dean, Sam, Cas, etc. tag list if you just want to be tagged in certain character’s fics! Shoot me an ask if you want to be added.

Masterlist

Your body curls into the couch at Bobby’s struggling to get comfortable without Dean’s warmth surrounding you, it’s been a month but you just can’t seem to get used to life without him. Eating without his goofy comments about Sam’s rabbit food, driving without him trying to pass you in Baby, his constant teasing about your love of ice cream, you just miss Dean.

“Y/n, I think it’s time you get back out there again,” Bobby states, interrupting your thoughts.

“No,” you mumble, refusing to think about hunting without Dean. And your mind immediately goes to his death, your entire body shakes at the thought of Dean being a Hell hound’s chew toy.

“Yes, you need to get up and go on a hunt. Get to doing what you’re good at,” Bobby says, sitting beside you.

“Bobby thanks for the counseling but I’m good,” you whisper, only wanting to lay on the couch and miss Dean.

“I’m not done yet. You think you’re the only one who misses him? You think Sam doesn’t miss him? You think I don’t miss him?” Bobby demands.

“But you guys are better at dealing with it,” you mumble.

“No we’re just better at hiding it. I lost my son, and I know you loved him but you need to get yourself together,” he bites.

“Bobby what do you care if I spend my life on your couch eating Ben & Jerry’s?” you mumble.

“It’s a waste of a precious life,” he states.

“Hah,” you laugh bitterly.

“What’s so funny?” he demands.

“Life is only precious because it ends, kid,” you whisper to the old man, repeating the words your father ingrained into you before he died.

“That’s not true and you know it. How would Dean feel if he knew you were wasting away in my home instead of saving people?” Bobby barks.

“He’s in Hell! I’m sure all he cares about is whatever they’re doing to him!” you yell and you’re interrupted by a knocking on the front door.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” you ask and he rolls his eyes as he walks to the door.

“Hey Bobby, I was wondering if I could crash here for a few days,” Sam smiles.

“Yeah, Y/n was fixing to head out,” Bobby says and you flinch, knowing that you’ve offended him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Sammy,” you whisper, slipping out the door with your duffel bag.

“Y/n, you forgot your hunt,” Bobby says waving a piece of paper as you’re opening your car door. You shake your head but something takes you to him.

“Thanks,” you mumble and hug him.

“Call me if you need anything. Don’t be stupid,” he warns, patting your shoulder as you walk away.

“Of course not,” you murmur and get into the car, refusing to look at Dean’s bag in the back seat. The next three months are a blur, one hotel to the next, one hunt to another. You lay in the bed tossing at turning waiting for sleep, just like every other night, you still can’t seem to get used to the bed without Dean in it. Your other phone rings, the private phone only Bobby, Dean, and Sam have the number for.

“Hello,” you answer, worry lacing your words, Bobby calls once a week, and this is not one of those set times.

“Y/n, I think you need to come to my place,” Bobby says.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Is Sam okay? Are you okay?” you blurt, you haven’t spoken to him since last week.

“I’m fine, Sam’s fine as far as I know. Just get here,” he says and hangs up. You sloppily pack your things and check out. You drive far faster than you’d ever admit. When you reach the house you step out and make your way up the stairs. You knock on the door, just like always, only Bobby doesn’t answer like always. You are face to face with Dean, or a monster posing as Dean. You pull your pistol out and point it at his heart, knowing if it’s a Supernatural being your silver bullets will kill it.

“What the hell are you?” you demand.

“Woah sweetheart, I’m me,” he says, slowly reaching for your gun.

“Oh hell no you aren’t, Dean Winchester is in Hell,” you bite.

“Y/n, it’s him,” Bobby says from behind him, and you glance up at the older man.

“How do you know?” you demand, running into too many shape shifters that took on Dean’s form almost killed you.

“I did all the tests,” he promises and you look up into those candy apple greens and bury yourself into Dean’s arms.

“I missed you,” you mumble.

“I know,” he states and you can hear the grin in his voice.

“How?” you ask, wanting to know every detail of how he escaped the pit.

“Don’t know,” he mutters and pecks your forehead.

“Alright. Does Sam know?” you ask, the younger Winchester coming to mind.

“Not yet, he’s next. We figured you could get here faster than we’d make it there,” Bobby states and you let out a yawn.

“You wanna ride with us?” Dean offers, taking in the exhaustion underneath your eyes and the way your shoulders are sagging.

“I’ll drive myself,” you say yawning once more, realizing how these last four months have taken a toll on you. The only time you slept was when you passed out from exhaustion or drunkenness.

“I think you should ride with us, you can leave your car here,” Bobby says, motioning towards the door.

“Okay,” you mumble, following them to the car. As soon as Bobby starts driving you find yourself drifting to sleep peacefully for the first time in months.

[crispychrissy]

The Trouble With Witches

Summary: A witch hunt with the Winchesters has some nerdy twists along with an interesting spell. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester Word Count: 3868 Warnings: Extreme nerdy stuff, canon SPN violence, a bit of naughty flirty talk, and bunnies (they need a warning, you’ll see why).  A/N: This is for @percywinchester27‘s PJO Quotes Challenge! My quote was “We'll have to work on your bunny phobia later.” and it’s highlighted in bold in the fic. Honestly, this is pretty much a borderline crack fic and had me laughing pretty hard. It has some Star Trek references in it, so if you don’t understand, please Google them. This was beta’d by the lovely and now very giggly @queen-of-deans-booty. Any feedback would be appreciated! Enjoy!

“Come on, we need to get moving, Thumper,” Dean grumbled from down the hall in the bunker.

You didn’t particularly like the nickname he gave you, but you were just naturally jumpy like a rabbit, so it stuck. Well, it mostly stuck after the first time he scared you and you punched him square in the nose before jumping around while you panicked. He always told you that the moment you punched him was the moment he fell in love with you. Such a romantic, that Dean Winchester.

Life hadn’t always been this peachy. The brothers took you in after your family was killed in a car accident. It turns out that your dad’s business partner had made a deal with a demon to have your father killed so he could take over the company. When his partner found out that the company was left to you in the will, the demon came after you next. Luckily, Sam and Dean were there and saved you before the demon was able to kill you.

So here you were, almost a year later and you were happy. You had Dean as your amazing boyfriend and Sam as your best friend, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You fell hard and fast for the green-eyed freckled Winchester, and who could blame you? He was basically pure sex appeal on bowlegs, but he was also the kindest man you’d ever met.

You hauled your overstuffed duffel bag over your shoulder and trotted out of your shared room with Dean down the hallway to the garage. Dean let out a quick breath of air when you climbed up the stairs into the garage and took your bag from you.

“You do realize it’s just going to be a simple witch kill,” he shook your bag, “you didn’t have to pack your entire wardrobe.”

“That’s not my entire wardrobe, Hedgehog. I doubt we could fit even half of it in Baby,” you said, laughing at Dean’s eye roll at your nickname for him. Ever since you came into your bedroom and saw Dean, who was fresh out of the shower and eating a whole cherry pie that was sitting on his stomach, you started calling him Hedgehog. The wet spiked hair and him enjoying fruit while lying on his back… it fit him too perfectly.

Dean slammed the trunk closed and you and the Winchesters all climbed into the Impala, heading straight to this witch case that Sam had found only a state over in Colorado. The article Sam had found said that several people had died in this town due to choking. On hairballs. Sam had already had it narrowed down to a few people in town that had a connection to all the victims, so it should be a relatively easy case.

The five-hour drive passed pretty quickly thanks to the epic trivia battles you had with Sam. You downloaded a trivia app, similar to Jeopardy, and went head to head with him. You pretty much dominated him in the science, technology, and biology fields, but he was pretty quick with his knowledge of history and math. You ended up winning overall but Sam had already challenged you to a rematch on the way back right as you pulled into the motel.

“Come on, Sam. How can anyone remember the quadratic formula? I only know it begins with negative B, but I can’t remember anything from high school. How do you remember that? Weren’t you studying to be a lawyer?” You playfully bumped his shoulder as you walked to the trunk and pulled your bag out, waiting for Dean to get the room key from the front office.

“I was pre-law, but those damn songs they used to make you learn the formula…it just stuck with me,” he said, shrugging and smiling. “You’re gonna go down on the way back, though.”

“Bring it, Sam! I’ll just school you in anatomy again,” you smiled, putting your hands on your hips.

“The only anatomy you need to study is mine, baby,” Dean purred in your ear as he came up behind you and linked his arm through yours, walking toward the motel room.

You jumped when he linked his arm, but quickly turned around and pressed a quick kiss to Dean’s lips. You pulled away, only to have his grip on your arm tighten and pull you back to him so he could kiss you properly.

“Guys, come on,” Sam groaned from behind you.

Dean smiled against your lips and pulled away, shooting you a wink before walking ahead of you to room number nine. He unlocked the door and you all piled in, ready to research the case. You didn’t mind having to share a room with the boys, but another room occasionally didn’t seem too bad when you wanted to have alone time with Dean. For as loud as he snored, Sam was a very light sleeper, so you and Dean had to behave when you were all in the same motel room.

Sam already had his laptop open and was pulling up more information about the cases from the medical examiners reports. Dean pulled three beers out from the cooler and popped the tops off before handing them out to you and Sam. You saw the telltale furrowing of Sam’s brow and you knew he found something.

“So, get this…” you began, right before Sam was going to speak.

He glared at you and sighed in disapproval, causing you and Dean to giggle.

“So,” he paused, narrowing his eyes at you, “the hair in the victim’s throats was all rabbit fur.”

“Rabbits?” You asked again, raising an eyebrow.

“Rabbits,” he confirmed. “The report says that there was no evidence of irritation or scratches on the esophagus of any of the victims, so the hairballs weren’t forced down manually.”

“Death by rabbit,” Dean snorted and took a sip of his beer, “that’s pretty unlucky.”

You and Sam both rolled your eyes and shook your heads in unison.

“We can split up and each take a crime scene. There has to be hex bags if we’re dealing with a witch. I don’t see any strange bags logged into evidence for any of the cases, so they’re probably still at the crime scenes. Three of us, three crime scenes. Let’s go,” Sam stood up from his chair and pulled on his suit jacket. You were all already dressed in your Fed threads, so all Dean would need to do is drop you off at your respective crime scenes so you could search.

For the next four hours, that is exactly what you did. Sam found his hex bag first, shoved into the corner of the sofa in the living room. Dean was next, finding it in the night stand next to the victim’s bed, and you were last to find yours. Yours was shoved into the entertainment center behind a stack of DVD’s. This witch was getting better at hiding the hex bags, and you were thankful you decided to search behind them.

Dean came by with Sam already riding shotgun and picked you up so you could head back to the motel and research the type of magic. You had witch killing bullets all ready, but it was always nice to know if you were going to be walking into something, or rather someone, more powerful than a normal witch. After quick pit stop for burgers, you were all back in the motel and buried in books and laptops.

“Hey guys?” You had noticed something at your crime scene and wanted to see if the boys saw it, too. They both grunted in acknowledgement.

“Did either of your victim’s own pets?” you asked, pulling out a small card from the inside pocket of your blazer.

“Mine had a cat named Kirk,” Sam responded, looking up at you and arching a brow.

“I’m glad you took that house, then. Mine had a dog, don’t remember its name though.” Dean added.

“Huh. Mine had a cage for something, not sure if it was a bird or rabbit…but I did find a business card for a local pet store on their fridge. The symbol on the card looks so familiar.” You handed the card to Sam, watching his expression change from confusion to recognition as he looked it over.

“This…this symbol is a Witch’s Knot. It was used in the middle ages to identify witchcraft. Nice find, Y/N.” Sam passed the card to Dean. “I think we found our witch.”

Dean studied the card and nodded. “She’s got a connection to all three victims because they all had pets. How many pet stores could there be in this tiny ass town?”

“Not to mention it would give her access to the ingredients she would need to perform this kind of magic. And the furballs of course,” you added, standing from your chair and stretching your back while you yawned.

It was already after nine at night, and you knew the boys wouldn’t want to wait until morning to take on the witch. The risk to another innocent life is too high. The killings were spread weeks apart, but all three of you noticed that they were getting closer and closer together.

“Let’s head out. I pulled up the address on Google and it looks like she lives in the apartment over the shop,” Sam said, standing up from his chair and undoing the buttons to his dress shirt. He grabbed a flannel and pair of jeans before stepping inside the bathroom and closing the door.

“Would you like some assistance undressing, Mr. Winchester?” You purred, stalking closer to where Dean was sitting on the bed.

“Mmm. Why yes I would, Ms. Y/L/N,” he purred right back at you as you reached for his belt.

“You guys do know I can hear you, right? I’m coming out in sixty seconds, so you two better be changed and ready to go,” Sam spoke from inside the bathroom.

“I’m so glad you are finally coming out, Sam. I think we all knew for a while because of the hair, but I’m so proud of you Sammy.” Dean could barely hold in his laugh as you two quietly giggled and stripped out of your Fed threads.

“I’m not gay, Dean. But from what Y/N has drunkenly let slip about your sex life, I think tha-”

“WHOA. Okay, stop right there.” Dean glared at you and you just shrugged in response, shooting him a playful wink.

You could hear Sam’s booming, yet muffled laughter coming from inside the bathroom as you slipped your flannel on. You loved the two of them so much. Sam was like a brother to you and knew you could play around with him like you were his sister. You could mess around with him just as much as he could with you.

Sam slowly opened the door to the bathroom and peaked his head out right as Dean finished buckling his belt. He smiled that you were all fully clothed and stepped out into the room to grab his phone. He tapped a few times, putting in the address of the pet store, and pulled on his jacket

‘Let’s head out,” Sam said, popping the clip out of his pistol to check which bullets he had inside. You and Dean mirrored his actions, satisfied that all three of you had enough firepower to take out several covens.

The drive to the pet store only took ten minutes, but you were nervously chewing at your lower lip the entire drive. Something didn’t feel right about this witch and the odd way she was killing people. You swallowed your reservations right as Dean pulled up to the curb outside the pet shop. The lights were on in the upstairs apartment, so someone was home.

Once all three of you had gotten out of the car and stowed your pistols in your respective waistbands, there was a bright flash of red that came from a window upstairs in the apartment. You all exchanged looks for a moment before running toward the front door of the store. Sam already had his lockpick unzipped and began picking the lock.

“Come on, Sam. She’s doing a spell right now,” you whispered as Sam fumbled with the lock.

“Not helping, Y/N,” Sam grunted a few seconds before the lock disengaged with a muffled click.

Dean brushed past you both and pushed the door open, cautiously sweeping left and right with his pistol raised. You and Sam followed shortly after him, pulling your pistols out as well. Dean pointed toward the far back corner of the storefront to a set of stairs that led up. Nodding, you followed behind Sam and headed back toward the stairs.

Dean stopped when he reached the top of the stairs, waiting for you and Sam to catch up. He nodded toward the door at the end of the hall that was already slightly open. Dean led the way and pushed the door open. All the lights were on inside the apartment and Dean stopped in his tracks a few feet inside. You and Sam were right behind him and almost bumped into Dean when he stopped. You were about to ask him why he stopped when you looked around the living room of this apartment.

“Holy Star Trek,” you whispered, mouth still agape. The entire apartment was covered in Star Trek posters, models, and various props. There were autographed posters of the original Star Trek with William Shatner, small models and figurines of the cast from The Next Generation, and several props from other Star Trek spin offs.

“Are you in nerd heaven, Sam?” Dean asked, nudging his brother with his elbow.

“No, Dean. This is a little too obsessive for my taste. Jeeze, everything in here is Star Trek themed,” Sam said, carefully making his way into the middle of the living room.

He wasn’t kidding. There were several shelves covered in large pieces of Star Trek memorabilia, including a cardboard cutout of Riker sitting in the corner. Even the pillows on the couch and the remote for the television was Star Trek themed.

“Spread out, we need to kill her before she kills someone again,” Dean said, pointing you toward the bedroom and pointing Sam toward the kitchen.

The bedroom also matched the Star Trek theme of the living room, including a Star Trek bedspread and a Bat'leth on a shelf in the corner. Pretty much the only thing in the room that was not Star Trek themed was the altar covered in various spell ingredients at the foot of the bed. There was still smoke rising from the metal bowl, meaning a spell was just completed.

You made your way over to the closet as you finished out your sweep of the bedroom. The moment you opened the door, you were immediately stumbled backwards, tackled by approximately thirty small and fluffy rabbits pouring out of the closet and into the bedroom. You couldn’t help the shriek that came out of your mouth as the furry sea of bunnies quickly overtook you.

Dean and Sam ran into the room, guns raised, sweeping back and forth to help you with whatever threat caused you to scream. The moment they saw the plethora of rabbits that were surrounding you, both Dean and Sam began to chuckle.

“It’s not funny, guys! They scared the crap out of me,” you grumbled back, which only made Sam laugh harder.

“We'll have to work on your bunny phobia later,” Dean said between giggles, “but at least we know where she got all the rabbit fur from.”

You shook your head at the two brothers and gently nudged a rabbit away from your leg with your foot. You could hear a few of them were eating something in the closet and it seemed like more and more rabbits were pouring out onto the floor. You were a pretty big Star Trek fan yourself, and it only took you a moment to recognize what was happening.

“Tribbles!” You yelled, earning confused looks from both the boys. Sam glanced at the closet, then back to you, and his eyes widened.

“Come again?” Dean asked, glancing at you and then to his brother.

“They’re this little furball things from the original series of Star Trek. They reproduce in a very short time when they’re fed. I think this witch did a spell that made the rabbits have the same reproduction behavior as Tribbles from the show,” you explained to Dean.

“Yeah, I remember that episode. They started with like ten of them and by the time a day passed there was thousands,” Sam added, making his way over to you.

You nodded and gestured toward the altar. “The spell was still smoking when I got here, so we may be able to reverse it if we can find her spell book. Help me look before we’re drowning in rabbits.”

The next five minutes, all three of you frantically pulled apart the bedroom trying to find the spell book. Finally, Dean pulled the spell book out from under the mattress and tossed it over to you. You loved research, and the extensive studying you did on spell reversal and neutralizations in the Men of Letters library was definitely going to come in handy for this.

Luckily it was a simple duplication spell and not some crazy reproduction curse. Reproduction spells were much more complicated and required a lot more ingredients than what the witch had laid out on the altar. You quickly found the spell she used in the book and began tossing ingredients into the bowl. The amount of rabbits had continued to grow, and it was starting to be difficult to walk.

“Dean, go to the kitchen and see if she has any cinnamon. There’s none left in this dish,” you said as you handed Dean the empty bowl. He disappeared from the room and you glanced down at Sam, who was now sitting on the floor with four rabbits in his arms and several more in his lap.

“Really, Sam?”

He looked up at you with a dopey grin on his face, “What? They’re cute. It’s not like there’s anything I can do to help you. Might as well enjoy it before they disappear.”

You rolled your eyes at him right when Dean came back into the room with some cinnamon in the dish.

He waded through the swamp of rabbits to reach over and hand you the bowl. “Got it. Do you need anything…” Dean glanced around the room at eye level and furrowed his brow. “Wait, where’s Sam?”

You looked down at Sam who was now practically swimming in rabbits. The amount of rabbits that had spawned had to be in the high hundreds and the ones that didn’t spill out into the hallway were still inside the bedroom. Even Sam, as tall as he was, had rabbits up to his mid-chest, while you were surrounded by a sea that reached a little above your knee. It was only a matter of time before the rabbit level reached critical and overtook the altar, so you had to move quickly.

You added a few pinches of cinnamon to the mixture in the bowl and chanted in Latin. “Vicissim amoris, mutationem fortunae. Eaque omnia redire consistere rectum.”

The room was immediately filled with the same bright red glow that you saw from outside, forcing you close your eyes. It felt like something whooshed past you and you could feel no more resistance or fur on pressing on your legs. You slowly opened one eye and looked around. There was only one rabbit remaining, and it was currently curled into a ball in Sam’s lap

“Everyone okay?” You asked, opening your eyes completely and looking around.

“Yeah.” Both Sam and Dean said at the same time.

You exhaled sharply and put your hands on your hips. “Well then. I think I can check ‘be swarmed by hundreds of rabbits’ off my bucket list.”

Dean ran over and scooped you up in his arms, pulling you into a quick kiss. “I’m so proud of you. I think you’re a bigger nerd than Sammy.”

“Possibly. But at least I’m not on the nerd level of this witch.” You smiled and pecked him on the lips again.

“Speaking of the witch, where did she go?” Sam said as he stood up, still with the rabbit in his arms.

As if on cue, the witch walked into the apartment whistling. You recognized the song immediately as from the episode ‘The Inner Light’ from The Next Generation, one of your favorites of all time. All three of you grabbed your pistols and darted out to the living room.

She looked up in shock. “How are you still alive?! You should have suffocated by now!”

“We have someone nerdier than you,” Dean said before he shot the witch square in the chest. She shrieked and slumped to the ground.

“Grab her body and let’s get out of here,” Sam said as he walked over to her body and scooped it up, bridal style, in his arms.

Dean began walking over to his brother and stopped when you didn’t follow right away. He turned and cocked his head. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, give me a second, I’ll be right down.”

A few minutes later you arrived at the car with your hand behind your back. Dean opened the trunk to swap out his witch killing bullets and, the second he opened the bottom to reveal the various weapons, you plopped the Bat'leth from the witch’s apartment on top of the set of machetes.

“What the hell is that? Is that from her apartment?” Dean asked.

“It’s a Bat'leth. And yes. Not like she’s going to be using it anymore.” You grinned.

Dean smiled and kissed your temple. “My adorable nerdy Thumper.”

You giggled and patted Dean lightly on the ass before hopping into the back of the Impala. After burying the body, you all returned to the motel room to pack. Having been with the boys for so long, you were all packed and on your way back to the bunker within ten minutes. You kicked Sam’s ass again in trivia, much to his displeasure, and you arrived back to the bunker just as the sun was coming up.

You threw your duffle bag on the bed in your shared bedroom with Dean and began to unpack. Your stomach grumbled and you ceased unpacking in favor of a snack. Walking into the kitchen, you smiled at Dean who was already making you both a sandwich.

“My hero Hedgehog,” you said, ruffling his hair before stacking your sandwich on top of his on his plate. You started walking back toward your room when Dean spoke up.

“Hey! My sandwich!”

You walked back over to him and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To boldly go where no man has gone before.” You winked at him and turned, leaving the kitchen.

“Is that a kinky thing?” Dean yelled before running through the kitchen to follow you.

Tagging some friends! @katymacsupernatural @sofreddie @just-another-busy-fangirl @kittenofdoomage

[internationalfandomgirl]

What? Hogwarts?

Characters: SamxReader (implied), Dean

Length: 1,226 words

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, none others that I can think of.

Summary: The reader is a hunter who finds herself on the cases that other hunters don’t want. The winchesters show up and you don’t want their help. Finally you allow Sam to help you. Why not get a little help in some revenge on Dean at the same time?

A/N: This is my entry for @percywinchester27 PJO Quote Challenge. My prompt was “Met them. Killed them. Got the T-shirt” and it is in bold in the story. Sorry it took me so long to get this done. I just lost my writing inspiration for quite some time.

**Not my gif**

You have been a hunter since you were fourteen years old. The job had turned your life into crisscrossing the country living out of your car and cheap motel rooms. Today found you pulling into a small town in Utah where girls have been disappearing. After your room checking in to the one-star establishment your grabbed your bag and headed towards your home for the duration of this hunt. “God I hope this is a quick hunt,” you groan to yourself. Just then you hear the roar of a familiar engine down the road. “Oh fuck me, the Winchesters.”

 The next morning you are at the police station bright and early. As you were going through the case files you heard the police chief coming near the room you were working in. “Why on Earth did the FBI have to send two more agents?”

 “Ummm HQ wanted to make sure we had all the basis covered, there have been too many people going missing. The sooner we figure this out the better.” You could recognize that voice anywhere. The door opened and the chief smiled at you.

 “Agent, your backup has arrived.” He smiled at you with a flirtatious smile.

 “Thanks Hank,” you shoot him a wink before he blushed and left you alone with the Winchesters. “What are you doing here,” you question with venom in your voice.

 “Well hello to you too sweetheart,” Dean sends you his signature smile.

 “You are always the easier brother to deal with Sam, so I ask again, what are you doing here?” You peer at Sam questioningly.

 “Bobby sent us. Wasn’t aware that there was another hunter on the case already,” Sam smiled at you apologetically.

 “Well I already know what I’m dealing with and how to kill it. Now I’m just trying to figure out where it is hiding.” You shut the book you were looking at and stand preparing yourself to leave the room. Dean stood in your way. “Excuse me.”

 “Come on Y/N. Let us help you. It will give it over faster and…”

 “Out of the way Dean.” You shoved the man out of your way and walked out of the room.

 “Dude what the hell happened between the two of you?” Sam peered at Dean the question in his eyes.

“Long story, maybe another time. Can we at least finish this case first?”

 “Dude, she has done all the leg work already and won’t talk to us. Maybe I should go talk to her alone. You just seem to piss her off.”

 Dean smirks a little before following his brother out the door, “yea I do.”

 You were at the bar trying to figure out how you were going to use yourself for bate as well as kill this thing without drawing too much attention to yourself. You were lost in thought when a beer was slid in front of you and someone sat next to you. “What do you want Winchester?”

 “Y/N, please just talk to me. I don’t know what happened between you and Dean, but you know you can talk to me. At least let me help you. Screw Dean, we can make a good team.” He gives you that puppy dog look that can melt even the most frozen of hearts.

 “Sammy, what happened between Dean and I, I don’t really want to talk about. This case? That I can talk about. It dragons Sammy. Fucking dragons. Again,” you look down sadly.

 “Dragons? Wait, again, what do you mean by again?”

 “Met them. Killed them. Got the T-shirt. Most hunters don’t believe dragons are a thing. I always end up on those cases. I know what the signs are, I watch for them. I go where they take me. That’s why no one ever hears from me. I travel the worlds going after the creatures hunters don’t believe in. It’s a lonely gig, but someone has to do it.” You sigh taking a drink of the beer Sam had brought you.

 “Well Y/N, we have worked together before, and I know you know your stuff. If you say you know it is dragons, then I believe you. I’m guessing you know how to kill a dragon then. Let me help you. Please. Screw Dean. What do we need to do?”

 “Dragons are the reason I became a hunter Sam. They took me when I was 14. Kidnaped me when I was walking home from school alone one day. My mom was a hunter, but I didn’t know it at the time. She was killed rescuing me. I have her journal now.” Sam looked at you with sincerity. He didn’t think you were crazy. He was actually listening to you. “They take virgin’s Sam. There are very few things you can kill it with. One being that colt that is rumored to be floating around somewhere. Also a sword forged in dragon’s blood.”

 “Where the hell do we get a sword forged in dragon’s blood?” He scoffs.

 “Well, I happen to have one in the trunk of my car.” Sam smiles at you and it makes you blush. “I told you, I’m the only hunter who deals with these things. Of course I’m prepared. I’m sure you and that brother of yours have that beautiful car all packed for the things you always hunt.”

 “You got me there. That we do. So we need a virgin to draw it in, right?” He looks around curiously, “I don’t think we are going to find any of those here Y/N.”

 “Sam,” you look at him in disbelief, “I am a virgin. Well reborn anyways. It works. It makes for a lonely life, but hey a hunter has to do what a hunter has to do.” Sam gives you a sad smile.

 “Okay, let’s do this.”

It was over. You and Sam had finished off the dragon. Once again you found yourself at the bar with the Winchester brothers. Dean kept trying to flirt with you, but you continued to shut him down. He was getting frustrated that it wasn’t working. You couldn’t help but look over at Sam watching his brother constantly get turned down.

 “Hey I got something for you,” Sam said reaching into his bag passing you a gift bag. He chuckled at Dean’s ‘what the hell’ reaction. He gave you a little smile.

 “Sam, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you said reaching your hand in the bag pulling out a V-neck shirt. You couldn’t help but laugh as you read the front of it. You turned it around and put it over you smiling at Sam.

 “Met them. Killed them. Got the T-shirt, what does that mean?” Dean looks between you and Sam.

 “Nothing Dean, it’s just an inside joke,” Sam says winking at you before giving Dean a smug look.

 “You two have inside jokes now? Are you sleeping together too?” You and Sam both laugh as Dean gets up to go to the bar. You stand up after Dean leaves grabbing your new shirt and look back over your shoulder at Sam.

 “Well, are you coming? We might as well fulfill what Dean is already asking,” you throw him a wink.

 “Uh...yea...coming!” Sam scrambles to get up throwing some money on the table to cover your drinks before following you out the door.

[justme-noonebutme]

To be young and innocent

Summary: Young Dean Winchester tells reader about what is lurking in the darkness 

Pairing: Young!Dean x Reader

Warning: tiny bit angsty more cute though ;)

Word count: 581

A/n: This is for @percywinchester27’s “Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge”. Thank you for letting me be part of your challenge! I have chosen the prompt 50 “Myths are simply stories about truths we’ve forgotten.” with Dean x Reader. As I am new at this whole writing thing I really hope you like and would love to get feedback. As always I want to say a huge thanks to @anticipate1003 for being such a trooper during the writing process.

To be young and innocent

“Tell me exactly what you saw,” Dean’s voice was calming your current state of mind. You had rushed into your parents house, Dean following you close behind, thankful that he knew they were out for the weekend. He closed the door of your bedroom behind the two of you and stood with his back to it as you frantically paced the worn down carpet floor. Even though he had only turned 14 a week ago he seemed more grown up than your older brothers who were already in college. When you met him in the library, just four days ago, you had no idea that bumping into this kid would change your life for good.

“I.. I’m not sure.. I..” you stammered as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. Your eyes wandered to your bedroom window and you closed the curtains in the hope that the darkness would stay outside with all the monsters it seemed to hold.

“You need to calm down. Here sit,” Dean tried his best to get you to maybe sit on the edge of the bed for a second but you were not having it.

“You sit freakin’ down.” you bursted out. “What on earth happened back there?” You pushed loose strands of hair behind your ears. Dean bit his lower lip, not sure where to start.

“I kinda told you about what might happen.”

“Are you serious? You tell a girl a ghost story and go to a haunted old house not because you really wanna see...you know.. you go there to make out.”

“Why would anyone make out in a haunted house? That is just plain stupid,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

“Well, there are not supposed to be real ghosts,” You let yourself fall back on the little couch in the corner of your room. Your eyes met his green ones and he came over to sit beside you, a slight smirk on his face.

“You do know that's not true, right?”

“Well, I do now,” You sighed, leaning your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “This really isn’t a dream?”

“Nah, that horse is out of the barn.”

“I’ve always thought that you know.. it’s just stupid myths. I was so sure nothing like that really exists.”

“You know what my dad always said?” Dean looked at you, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment he got lost in them.

“Myths are simply stories about truths we’ve forgotten.”

“Your dad seems like a very smart man.”

“Well, he has his moments,” Dean chuckled. “Speakin’ of my old man, I gotta make a call and let him know which body to.. you know.. take care of.”

You nodded and Dean left for the phone in the hallway. If it was true and ghosts really existed, then there must be more out there and Dean and his dad where hunting those things. Saving people in the process. Dean came back in and took a seat beside you on the couch.

“Could you maybe stay a bit longer? I mean if your dad is okay with it.”

“I need to get back to my brother sooner or later but I can stay a little while longer,” He relaxed into the couch.

“Would you tell me some more stories?”

“Sure,” he smiled and put his arm behind you, resting it on you shoulder as you leaned your weight against his chest.

“Have you ever heard a real werewolf story before?”

Tags: let me know if you (don’t) want to be on the taglist :)

@percywinchester27

@anticipate1003

@erin654

@trexrambling

@wheresthekillswitch

[deanssweetheart23]

Before You Go

Title: Before You Go (AU)

Summary:  He’s lost everything he has ever loved. She’s trying to mend her broken heart . They’ve only got one night together.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Jo Harvelle, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jody Mills (all mentioned)

Word count: 4049 (but worth it)

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Some language. Allusions to sex. References to loss and grief.

Author’s Notes: This is my contribution to @percywinchester27‘s “PJO Quotes Challenge”. Ana, thank you for letting me participate, granting me a generous extension, and being a wonderful friend. I hope you love this.

Special thank you to my beautiful sunflower @trexrambling because this wouldn’t have been the same without her help. She’s amazing.

My prompt for this was “I won’t go looking for trouble. I usually don’t have to”  and it’s included in bold in the text below. This is loosely based on Before We Go with C.Evans and A.Eve (do yourself a favor and watch this movie, it’s brilliant) and highly inspired by All The Pretty Girls by Kaleo (*cough* one of Jared’s favorite songs *cough).

Thank you for all your love, guys. Enjoy <3

Dean still can’t believe Jo Harvelle is married.

He’s standing in the middle of the wooden roof deck where the reception is taking place, surrounded by buffet tables with linens and vases with roses and tulips and white candles and an outdoor fireplace –an actual outdoor fireplace- and he still can’t believe that his best friend, the girl with the piggy tails and the innocent blue eyes that reminded him so much of the sky when he was a kid, is married.

It’s not that he’s not happy for her.

If anything, there is no one that deserves to be loved and cherished more than Jo does, but it’s unsettling, almost terrifying to see the world he has managed to build for himself changing without his consent. It’s like everyone he knows, everyone he’s always known, family and friends and people he’s grown up with, are shifting, altering shapes and sizes and essence while he’s watching life pass him by, still trying to cope with the turn his life has taken over the past couple of years. They have plans, have their lives neatly figured out and fit into boxes, but him?

He has nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he runs a hand over his face and reaches for his glass again, signaling the bartender for another round.

“You know,” a soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts, “my dad always said that when a guy’s drinking all alone at a wedding, someone probably broke his heart.”

Dean snorts a little at the words and turns to tell the stranger that her father probably didn’t know him, but stops when he realizes that the girl standing before him is the one that had saved him from one of the groom’s drunk aunts earlier that night.

She’s clad in one of long chiffon dresses Jo seems to despise with everything she has, and though Dean already knows she’s beautiful, the little observation stored somewhere in the back of his mind, he can’t help but acknowledge it again now that she’s leaning against the bar, lips curled up in a perfect smirk as her eyes flicker over his features.

He grins.

“Or,” he says, hand curled around his glass, “he’s just hoping that the pretty girl that saved him from Martha Stewart Junior will join him.”

She laughs, a rich, loose laugh that’s warmer than whiskey as it seeps into his bones.

“Pretty, huh?”

“Among other things.” Dean says, looking up at her through his lashes. A sincere smile, and then, “I never got to thank you for that, by the way.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” She slides in a seat next to him. “Mildred can be really sweet, but she gets way too handsy when she’s drunk.”

“You know her?”

“Everyone here does.” She shrugs. “She’s the groom’s aunt.”

He snorts, eyes going a bit narrow. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. His family, uh,” she glances towards a group of people to her left, then turns to him again, “they’re interesting people.”

His lips twitch upwards. “You don’t like them.”

And it might be more of a statement than a question, but he’s not surprised when she nods in agreement because though he knows nothing about her, he does know how to read people, and the way she juts her chin and puckers her forehead when she mentions Dave’s family is the only evidence he needs.

“I don’t like all of them.” She gnaws on her bottom lip, seemingly thinking about something, then sighs and shakes her head. “Do you see that guy over there?”

He peeks over his shoulder gingerly.

A man in his late twenties is talking to Dave and Jo and, despite the fact Dean doesn’t even know him, his brash smile is enough to make him hate the guy.

“You mean the James Dean wannabe?”

A snort.

Amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Yeah, that. That’s Dave’s brother.” She shifts a little as she speaks and then-

“Please, tell me you didn’t date that douche.”

“Yeah, I was actually engaged to that douche.” She scoffs and, even though he knows she’s trying hard not to strap her words with emotion of any kind, the words are laced with melancholy as they leave her mouth.

He knows better than to comment on it.

“He seems…special.”

“That’s one way to put it,” she deadpans, drawing her head back. “Our relationship was…rocky, I guess. But I was young, and we were high school sweethearts and I had read far too many romance novels to just give up on him.”

He nods, eyes flickering to the amber liquid he’s twirling in its glass.

“He let you go, didn’t he?”

“Said he wasn’t sure he was ready to commit to just one person,” she leans forward on her arms, “then started dating his father’s secretary like two days after that.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Biggest one I’ve ever met,” she agrees, reaching for a pint glass the barman sets in front of her. “You don’t have to worry about Jo, though. Dave’s a good guy.”

“How did you-”

“I’ve known the groom my entire life. If you were his friend, I’d remember you,” she explains, nudging his arm with her elbow.

Dean can’t be sure, but he thinks the tips of his ears turn pink.

“You would?” he smirks.

A tiny smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

“I definitely would,” she mumbles, but it’s laced with enough coyness to confirm the one thing he’s been suspecting all along; flirting with strangers was probably not a pastime of hers.

Huh.

She clears her throat. “So.”

Dean grins.

“So?”

“How do you know Jo?”

“Childhood friend,” he explains, eyes shifting towards the youngest Harvelle. “Our dads used to hang out, so we practically grew up together.”

And maybe it’s the whiskey that’s clouding his judgement, or maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t talked to someone –really talked to someone for over two years - but, he finds himself sharing childhood stories of him and Jo, finds himself telling her about the first time they met and the summers they spent by the lake at Lawrence and that one time Dean busted the windows of her boyfriend’s car because he cheated on her.

“She’s just,” he runs a hand over his face, tries to gather himself a little, “Dave’s a lucky guy.”

“Oh God,” she mutters, bright, Y/E/C locking into his, “you’re in love with her.”

The words echo as they leave her mouth, all certainty and realness, and catch him off guard, like a gunshot to the heart.

A crease forms between his brows.

His shoulders tense.

“I’m not –It’s… It’s not like that, kid.”

He’s expecting her to fight him on it, to ask more questions or squint or do… something.

She doesn’t.

“We just… We had a thing. Back when we were in college. And we both agreed it wasn’t going to work.”

She nods, making sure to meet his eye. “But?”

With a heavy sigh, he lets his eyes drift to his hands, to his father’s silver ring.

“What if I was wrong? I mean… Jo gets me, you know? We’ve been through so much together and we still… We’re there for each other. How often does that happen?”

“Not as often as you think.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I think… After all I’ve been through, I think that it’s one thing to love someone and another thing to be in love with them. And I can see you love Jo. A blind man could see that. But, are you in love with her? Or with the idea of her?”

A small smile.

Eyes looking at her in amazement.

“Who are you?”

“I dunno, Mr. Winchester.” She shrugs, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Why don’t you find for yourself?”

Yeah.

He likes her.

Dean’s not sure how they ended up back at his place.

He remembers drinking her under the table at the reception, remembers listening to hundreds of her childhood stories, dancing with her while the stereos blasted a cheesy Ed Sheeran song about stars and beating hearts, and, God, he remembers kissing her, desperate and needy and open mouthed, but everything’s a blur of hungry hands and short breaths after that.

And now, somehow, they’re in his living room, and he has her pinned against the wall, lips and mouth and tongue mapping the smoothness of her neck while his hands travel underneath her dress, to her hips, her thighs, any place he can reach, and she’s clutching at his shirt.

God, he wants her.

He wants her, and even though he feels like he needs to take his time, feels like this should be so much more than tangled sheets and breathless whispers, much more than just another one-nighter, the feel of her skin under his fingertips and the way his name leaves her lips in whimpers when he finds that spot on her neck are enough to drive him absolutely insane.

“Is that,” she lets out a soft whimper as he presses his mouth up her jaw, “is that a chess set?”

He lets out a loose breath, brows furrowed in puzzlement as he follows her gaze.

“Yeah, that’s… Yeah,” he replies, and leans in to kiss her, hands sliding up her sides.

She pulls away, tilting her head to the left, almost too slow.

“Do you, uh, play a lot?”

His head drops to her shoulder.

“Not really, no. My brother gave it to me.”

She hums in response, but when he starts peppering kisses along her shoulder, she shifts a little, squirms under him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, voice laced with concern.

She sighs, eyes cast downwards.

“Yeah,” she pushes some hair off her face, “yeah, m’ sorry. I just –I’ve never…” She shakes her head, stumbling over her words a little. “I’ve never done this before.”

He smiles, a soft, gentle smile that smooths his rough edges and make his eyes shine.

“Kid, don’t take this the wrong way, but I kind of figured that part out.”

She clenches her jaw.

Something that looks awfully like shame floats across her face.

“Hey,” he cups her face with his large hands, “we don’t have to do anything. You know that, right?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but-

“Look, tonight’s been –it was amazing. And I’d never make you do something you don’t…” He lets out a nervous laugh, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you don’t want this, just say the word and I’ll kiss you goodnight and drive you home. No hard feelings. No drama. You don’t… You don’t owe me anything.”

A smile.

Fingers that trace the line of his jaw, tender and sweet.

“Dean, I know that. And I want this. I’m just…”

She lets out a sigh, armor down for a millisecond, and Dean sees the uncertainty behind it, sees the embarrassment she tries to hide under layers of small smiles and reassuring looks, but knows she wishes he doesn’t, wishes he’ll spare her the mortification.

So-

“Tell you what.” He clasps a hand at the side of her face. “How about you just take a hot shower while I make us some grilled cheese? You can lock the bathroom door.”

“Dean-”

“And if you still want this later…” he presses his lips on her forehead, the rest of the words whispered into her skin, a secret only for her to hear.

She smiles then and, this time, it’s all wonder and depth and awe, a smile that makes him feel like he’s more than a stranger to her, more than a guy she wants to sleep with.

And when she steps on her toes and presses a chaste kiss on his stubbly jaw, the breath hitches in his throat for just a second, and he hopes.

He hopes he’ll get to see that smile again.

Dean doesn’t remember the last time he laughed so much.

He’s laying on his bed with Y/N snuggled up against him, her cheek placed firmly on his chest while he’s running his hands up and down her arm gently, and every time he leans in he can smell his shampoo lingering on her hair.

So, he breathes it in, along with the sight of her dressed in his clothes, in that old Rolling Stones T-shirt he loves and that grey pair of sweatpants he doesn’t wear anymore, and tries to ignore how nerve-wrecking it all feels.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N gasps in faux offence, catching his attention again.

It’s been almost two hours since she’d gotten out of the shower and, after they’d eaten, they ended up back in his bedroom, lips pressed together like pieces of the same puzzle.

And still, nothing happened.

Well, almost nothing.

Because ever since they settled against each other, limbs and heartbeats blending, they haven’t stopped talking.

She talked to him about her family, her best friend who’s like the older brother she never had, her dream to open her own record house one day. She said her favorite flowers are pink carnations and her favorite song is probably Dylan’s Knocking on Heaven’s Door and that she’d never really knew what heartache felt like until she lost her grandmother to Alzheimer when she was still a teenager. She spoke to him of winters nights spent at a little cabin her family has in Utah and of her favorite blanket, the one her grandmother had made for her when she was still a baby.

And then, she listened.

She listened as he talked about his parents and Bobby and how he practically had to beg the old man to go out with his neighbor, Jody. She listened as he told her about his job and his decision to go to college just to know what it would be like, about his love for classic cars and rock music and pie. She listened when he spoke of his first girlfriend and how she broke his heart, and when he told her about that little diner right across the street from his house, the one his dad used to take him to as a kid which has now been turned into a horrible block of flats.

She listened and listened and listened and Dean realized, much to his surprise, that, though he’s only known her for less than a day, she already knows things about him, already understands him in ways most of his friends don’t.

He doesn’t mind.

“How can someone sleep through La La Land?” she asks, laughing into his clothed skin.

“You see, when a movie is that terrible-”

“Shut up,” she whines, smacking his hand, “that’s my favorite movie you’re talking about, heathen.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a bad one.”

She perches herself on her elbow, looks up through narrowed eyes.

“It’s a work of art.” She jabs a finger at him. “Mia’s and Sebastian’s love story is the best one I’ve seen in years. It’s just… so pure.”

A snort.

Eyes rolled skywards.

“Okay then. Tell me what your favorite movie is so, I can make fun of it.”

“See, that’s impossible because my favorite movie is,” he leans in, brushes his scruff against the sensitive skin of her neck playfully, “awesome.”

A laugh escapes her lips.

“Hmmm,” she runs her fingers through his short hair, all mischief and delight, “and what movie would that be?”

“Every movie Clint Eastwood’s in.”

“Really?” She scrunches her nose up in indignation. “You don’t like Ryan Gosling, but you’re willing to watch a movie with a monkey?”

“Well,” he mouths up her jaw leisurely, “in all fairness, Clyde’s a better actor.”

She laughs, again, and Dean’s pretty sure he could get drunk on that sound.

“No, he’s not.” She presses her forehead against his, close enough that he’s sure she can count the freckles of his face if she wants to. “You just happen to have a very weird fetish, Winchester.”

“I do not.”

“You so do.” She settles against him again, lets his large hands slide underneath her shirt, his fingertips tracing over warm skin. “I bet you even dressed as a cowboy when you were a kid.”

“Hey now,” he waggels his eyebrows suggestively, “the ladies in the neighborhood loved it.”

“Course they did.”

“Shut up, you perv.” He tickles her sides. “My costume was fan-frigging-tastic, if you must know.”

“Well, in that case, I might have to ask your brother for pictures.”

And Dean’s so lost into their conversation, so lost into the sense of her so close to him that he doesn’t realize what she’s said until the words are out there, new and uneven, hanging in the air between them.

He wishes she could take them back in then, wishes he could erase them from his mind, from her mind, but he can’t.

He swallows, hard.

“Yeah, he won’t…” He clears his throat, quietly. “Sam died two years ago.” A pause painted with grief. “Hit and run. He was jogging late at night and…”

A second passes and nothing happens.

Dean waits.

He waits for the sharp intake of breath, waits for the clipped I’m sorry to fly out of her mouth, for the way she looks at him to change, to turn from softness to pity and guilt, but she doesn’t move.

Warm lips press against that spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

Fingers tie themselves between his.

“Tell me about him,” she whispers.

And if it was someone else, Dean would refuse, would be absolutely furious because he does not want to share his memories, doesn’t want to share his brother, with anyone else.

But with her laying by his side, he hears a wrecked voice respond.

“What do you want to know?”

Her hand squeezes his.

A smile lights up her face for just a second.

“Everything.”

And so, he tells her.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” Y/N whispers into his chest after what feels like hours, her fingers drawing arbitrary patterns there.

She’s almost asleep in his arms now, eyelids heavy with sleep and voice drowsy, and if it weren’t for the pensiveness that’s coating her features or the way she purses her lips and stares straight ahead as she asks him the question, he’d probably be pondering how cute she looks.

“You know, like when you’re in a room full of people, but you feel like nobody gets you? Because I’ve –I have so many good people in my life, but sometimes I feel like… I feel like there’s a little invisible line that’s always going to separate me from everyone else, you know?”

And Dean knows exactly what she means. He knows what it’s like to feel like a complete stranger in your own world, to feel disconnected and lost into the life you’ve made for yourself because he’s been there so many times after his brother’s death.

“Yeah,” he drops a kiss on her hair, “I do.”

She presses her face into the crook of his neck, breathes him in.

“What am I doing here, Dean?” she whispers, and it’s so faint he might as well have dreamt of it.

He wishes he had an answer for her.

He doesn’t.

All he knows is that this, the feel of her next to him, the weight of her in his arms, feels right.

All he knows is that he feels like this is how things are supposed to be from now on.

He runs his fingers through her hair, traces her jawline with his thumb.

“Get some sleep, kid,” he mumbles.

But he doesn’t sleep that night.

He just holds her, thinking that maybe that’s what he needed all along.

Dean finds her sitting on the edge of his bed the next morning.

She has her hair up in a messy bun, the dress she’s been wearing the night before already on, and, even though she seems so much different, even though she comes from a world so much different than his, there’s a simplicity in her that makes it easy for him to imagine her as a part of his world, too.

He smiles.

“What are you thinking about so hard over there?”

Her head jerks when she hears his voice.

“Dean,” she turns to look at him, “you’re back.”

“Yeah.” He holds up a paper bag from his favorite diner. “I went out to get us breakfast. You read the note, right?”

She nods, rubbing at her forehead.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, shy and nervous. “I could have just dropped by Starbucks on my way to work.”

And Dean knows that, but when he’d woken up a few hours earlier only to find her asleep in his arms, laughing lines and kindness dusting her skin, he felt it again, that pull he’d felt the night before, that need to spend every minute he could with her.

So, he’d gone out to get breakfast.

“Well, yeah, but” -he jabs a finger at her- “you said last night you like cinnamon rolls, and I just happen to know the place with the best cinnamon rolls in town.”

She frowns, looks down at her hands.

“See, now you’re just making me feel like an awful person,” she mumbles, voice laced with a nervous smile. “My boss just called. I’ve got to be at work in twenty minutes.”

“Oh.”

“Dean, I’m sorry-”

“Hey, no,” he shakes his head, hands her the bag. “You can eat that on your way there. Just…”

He thinks about the things he wants to say for a second, thinks about the night they shared, sprinkled with whispered laughs and honest confessions and wounds opened just for the other person to see.

And then he realizes that if he asks her to stay, if he asks for a chance, she’ll probably assume she’s being the girl he’ll use to numb the pain, the girl he’ll use to substitute Jo and forget his brother’s loss and he doesn’t want that.

He never wants that.

So, he sets her free.

“Drive safe.”

She cracks a small smile, but it’s all smoke and mirrors.

“Thank you,” she says. “And you-” -she jabs a finger at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “I won’t go looking for trouble. I usually don’t have to.”

A laugh, small but genuine.

Steps that lead her to him.

Her arms wrap around his waist, and he leans in.

God, she fits perfectly against him.

“I know you don’t-”

He never gets the chance to finish his sentence though, because she presses her lips against him, determined and slow and different, so much different from the way they’d kissed the night before, a kiss that’s warm and tender and makes him wonder why he hasn’t spent his entire life kissing her like that.

“You’re a good man, Dean Winchester,” she says when they finally break apart.

He looks at her then, looks into her eyes, and everything he wanted to tell her dies at the back of his throat, choked and genuine and overwhelming, and he just laces his fingers with hers and grips.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

She doesn’t reply.

She doesn’t have to.

It’s all written there, in the way she grips right back, in the way her bottom lip wobbles and her lips brush against his cheek in the tiniest bit of movement.

When she leaves, the sound of the door shutting closed echoes his loneliness.

He doesn’t know how much time he spends staring blankly at the wall that morning.

He finds it the following day.

He’s wandering around his house, pondering whether he should ask Jo for Y/N’s number, whether there is even a point after the way she left the morning before, when he sees it.

It’s right there, just a little Post-It note with the world’s worst scribbles, a phone number and a tiny carnation drawing spread across it, etched on the chess set.

Smirking, he picks it up, lets his eyes dance over the lines.

Do not call unless you’re willing to reevaluate Mia’s and Sebastian’s love story.

I can wait.

Oh, but she won’t have to.

Tags: @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @ravengirl94 @hannahindie @trexrambling @percywinchester27 @torn-and-frayed @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @dancingalone21 @polina-93 @pickupthatamulet @atwistoffate @there-must-be-a-lock @ultrafandomcat @tiny-friggin-human @imagining-supernatural @impala-dreamer @becs-bunker @becominglionhearted @wordstothewisereaders @sgarrett49 @ruprecht0420 @myrabbitholetoneverland @juanitadiann @castianityislife02 @iwriteaboutdean @spngeronimo @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @captainemwinchester @mogaruke @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @wellthatsrandomkek @winchestersnco @jayankles @winchesters-flannels @akshi8278 @thevioletthourr @kathaswings @atari-writes @emilywritesaboutdean @keepcalmandcarryondean @mandilion76 @atc74 @ravenangel33 @holahellohialoha @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @sinistersaltqueen @carryonmyswansong @blushingdean @emoryhemsworth @princess-of-erebor1992 @superapplepie @bebravekeeponfighting @carryonmywaywardcaptain @sebastianshoe @stellaa33 @kleinkariertebetrachter @samisimportant @masksandtruths @shutupiminlooove @jessilliam-caronday @annoyingpeople-postingthings 

Crossed out tags don’t work for some reason, let me know if there’s something I can fix :)

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

The Good Man

Title: The Good Man

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Summary:  You return from a hunt after a run-in with another hunter.

Characters:  Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count:  1003

Warnings:  Self-doubt, “mean” girls/women

Author’s Notes: This is my entry for @percywinchester27‘s PJO Quotes Challenge. My quote was “You, sir, are a ray of sunshine.”

***My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

It shouldn’t bother you. It shouldn’t mean anything. It was nothing more than petty jealousy, born out of delusional behavior. It wasn’t the first time your words had been twisted and used against you, it wasn’t the first time blatant lies had been told about you. None of that made it any easier or changed the way you felt.

Everybody hated you.

You’d just spent four days with several other hunters, all of them female, most of whom you’d known for years. You’d gotten together to bring down a succubus, an ancient succubus, an extremely powerful one, that had been killing men across the country for months. The hunter network had decided she needed to be taken out by a female hunter, preferably a group of female hunters. The six of you had been chosen to work together to bring her down. As an expert at not only deciphering ancient languages, but writing them, you’d been brought in to research her weaknesses, her habits, and anything else you could dig up.

It had been the longest four days of your life. You’d traveled to Wichita to help kill the succubus, not knowing that one of the other hunters there would be a woman who hated you, despised you really, and had ever since the two of you had gotten in a minor disagreement over something so petty you could barely remember what it was. Minor to you anyway, though apparently she had taken it to heart. You’d left before the succubus was even dead, after realizing three of the four other hunters were barely speaking to you, instead choosing to believe her and her wild accusations. Not that any of them had tried to get your side of the story; it was easier to believe the lies than seek out the truth.  

“Dean!” You tossed your duffel on the table in the war room and went up the stairs into the library. “Sam!” Neither of the Winchesters were in the library, the kitchen, the garage, or their bedrooms. You made your way through the twisting hallways of the bunker, finally stopping outside the door of the gym. It was half open and you could see Dean, hitting the heavy bag, grunting every time his fist connected.

“Hey, cowboy,” you whistled.

Dean stopped, turning to look at you. You took a minute to admire him - the sweat running down his neck, staining his pale gray t-shirt and the waistband of his sweats, his broad chest heaving as he dragged in a deep breath, his gloved hands clenched in fists at his side, a day’s worth of stubble on his cheeks.

“Hey, baby,” he grinned, “you’re back.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Thank God.”

He crossed the room in two strides, taking hold of your upper arms. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” you shrugged. “Petty jealousy.” You cupped his cheek and brushed a kiss across his lips.

“That girl, what’s-her-name, the evil bitch?” he asked. “She was there? Running her mouth again?”

You giggled at Dean’s nickname for the woman he found utterly contemptible. “Every time,” you mumbled. “She hates me. And she does everything in her power - limited as it is - to get others to agree with her. Her version of the truth is a twisted mess; she neglects to mention her part in what happened, what she did, instead she accuses me of being pathetic, a baby, and too sensitive. It’s tiring to have someone bash you constantly, make you out to be the bad guy, all while refusing to take responsibility for their own actions. She’s like arguing with a five-year-old. No logic whatsoever.”

Dean’s arm slid around your waist, tugging you closer. He rested his forehead on yours. “You do know that in the grand scheme of things, she doesn’t matter. Not just to you, but to anyone. She might think she does, but someone that toxic, that evil, never will. She’ll end up alone and bitter.”

“But -”

“No buts, Y/N,” he shook his head. “It’s called karma. Trust me, it’ll bitch slap her soon enough. You need to stop letting her bother you.”

“I guess I really am too sensitive,” you muttered.

“Screw her,” Dean growled, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing the top of your head. “I love you and that’s all that matters.”

“That’s one of the reason she hates me,” you laughed. “I’ve got you and she doesn’t.”

“I don’t do evil skanks,” Dean shuddered. “Especially bitchy, evil skanks who think they’re above common human decency.” He took your hand and dragged you into the room. “Come on, hit the bag a few times, you’ll feel better. Picture her face on it.”

You laughed again and followed Dean. He stood you in front of the bag, stepped behind it, and held it still.

“Come on, let’s go.”

You settled into your boxing stance, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. You took a second to center yourself, than you let loose, fists flying, throwing all of the pent-up frustrations you’d held onto for the last few days into every punch. It was cathartic, every slap of your fist against the bag making you feel a million times better.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, pummeling the heavy bag, but it was long enough that Dean had to grab you and stop you, pulling you into his arms and hugging you, one hand cupping the back of your head, his lips pressed to your temple.

“You, sir, are a ray of sunshine,” you murmured, resting your cheek on his chest. “Thank you for being so great. You’re a good man.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” he chuckled.

Nothing made you feel better than being wrapped in Dean’s arms. No one made you feel as good as Dean made you feel. Nothing mattered except that. All the shit, all of the hate, none of it mattered as long as you had a good man in your life.

You were lucky enough to have the best man in yours.

Forever SPN:  @4401Inc @arikas5744 @atc74 @baconlover001 @blackcherrywhiskey @bringmesomepie56 @brooklyn-writes-flangst @cameronbraswell @climbthatmooselikeatree @deanandsamsbitch @deandoesthingstome @demonangelimpala @donnaintx @dorky-and-i-know-it @emoryhemsworth @erin654 @evilskank-inthemegacoven @faegal04 @fallen-castiel @fangirlofeverythingme @frankiea1998 @gallifreyansass @gallxntdean @gemini75eeyore @giftofdreams @goldenolaf25 @goofynerd-67babylove @green-eyed-hunters @growningupgeek @hennessy0274-blog @icantfindacreativeurl @iwriteshortstuff @jensennjared @katnharper @kickasscas67 @ksgeekgirl @mamapeterson @meeshw777 @milkymilky-cocopuff @mischief-maker1 @misswhizzy @mrsjohnsmith @mrswhozeewhatsis @ms-munchkin @multireality @nanie5 @nerdwholikesword @not-moose-one-shots @official-shipper @pizzarollpatrol @purgatoan @raeganr99 @ria132love @roxyspearing @shhhs3cret @sis-tafics @soullessdemon5283 @spn-fan-girl-173 @spookypeyton @sylverminx @that1seniorchick @thebabeontheback @thebookisbtr @thebunkerismyhome @thepoet1975 @tia58 @tjforston @ultimatecin73 @velcr0kitty @walkingkhaleesi @waywardjoy @winchesterprincessbride @wishedworld @wonderless-screwup @xagateophobiax @xtina2191

Dean girls:  @akshi8278 @appleschloss @avengedqueen26 @baconlover @bleeding-fandom-heart @boxywrites @captainemwinchester @deanwinchesterxreader @emilywritesaboutdean @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @feelmyroarrrr @frickfracklesackles @ho-ne-y @hybristophilaa @ilovedean-spn2 @jayankles @jennandthecats @jessica-bones-winchester @kathaswings @kayteonline @laurenphilpott16 @lessons-of-red @love-me-some-pie21 @lupine-princess @maddieburcham1 @milo-winchester-4ever @rattyretro-blog-blog @rebeccathefangirl @rizlow1 @rockgoddean @salvachester @sammit-janet @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @starswirlblitz @supernatural-jackles @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @untitled39887 @winchesterenthusiast @zanthiasplace

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Back Roads

Summary: The reader breaks things off with her boyfriend but she wasn’t expecting her walk home to end up with two bickering strangers popping out of the woods...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Written for @percywinchester27 ‘s Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge. My prompt/quote was “Lots of death, huh? Personally, I’m trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!”...

“You said you were taking me on a date,” you said, glancing around before tilting your head at the jerk next to you.

“Um, I thought I was pretty obvious that we came out here to make out, ya know, have sex...” said Archie. 

“First off, don’t assume anything and have you never heard the expression buy a girl dinner first? Just take me home,” you said, crossing your arms as you felt Archie move his hand to rest on your thigh. “I said take me home. Now.”

“Come on. We’re out in the middle of the woods, no one will see,” he said. “I brought a condom if you’re worried.”

“Oh, how freaking thoughtful of you,” you said, picking up his hand and tossing it back in his own lap. “Drive me home now, Archie.”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s not like you’ve never done it or-”

“This is me telling you that we’re done,” you said, flinging open the door. “I’m walking home and by the way, Archie, you were by far the shittiest boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Bitch,” he said as you slammed the door shut, watching him pull out and onto the dirt road to head back towards the main one. 

“Someday, Y/N, we will find the one. Some cute guy that doesn’t turn into an ass after the third date,” you said. You started the walk, guessing it was only ten or so minutes and then your phone would be working again. You could try calling Stacy but it was a Saturday night and she was probably either too wasted or too busy with a guy or three to be coming to pick you up. 

“Hey!” someone shouted at you as they ducked out from the tree line, shining a flashlight at you. You heard some movement behind you and spun around, spotting another shorter man. Even if it was pretty much pitch black in the woods this late at night, you figured it was a shotgun he was pointing at you.

“Oh, don’t tell me I just walked straight into Deliverance,” you said, looking all around.

“Who are you?” asked the shorter one. You glanced at his gun and he lowered it. “Did you come here with that guy, Archie?”

“Ew, what are you, peeping Toms?” you asked, spinning around.

“No,” said the one with the flashlight. “I’m Sam. The guy over there is my brother Dean.”

“Hi,” he said, waving his fingers. “Now you tell us your name.”

“Y/N,” you said, looking back and forth between them. “How do you know Archie?”

“Your boyfriend-”

“Ex boyfriend,” you said, looking at Dean who was giving you his bitch face. “He’s an ass. A horny ass.”

“Great, then you won’t mind helping us,” said Dean.

“Dean,” said Sam, waving his hands. “Hello? We should tell her-”

“Tell me what exactly?” you said, Dean sighing.

“Archie is a monster. He’s been killing woman for, five, six years in this area. You’re lucky you got out of the car. He’ll be back,” said Dean.

“Oh my god,” you said, knowing suddenly what that dangerous thing he gave off was suddenly. “He’s a serial killer? You guys are cops?”

“I did say monster right?” Dean asked Sam, rolling his eyes.

“Dean, you know...forget it. Y/N, hey, um, listen...when we say Archie is a monster we mean like a literal monster monster. You know, think of like a vampire or ghoul or siren or ghost. Anyone of those things,” said Sam.

“Right,” you said. Well, they weren’t the kind of dangerous you thought they were before. Just plain old crazy...but that didn’t mean you were in any less trouble.

“If you were her, would you believe us?” said Dean. “You should have just let her think we were cops.”

“Cops don’t just murder people! Or monsters!” said Sam.

“Yeah but we were gonna. Or would could have shoved her away somewhere safer instead of having her scanning the freaking terrain trying to decide if she should run down that hill to the left. Pro tip, there’s a swamp down there so I would advise against it,” said Dean, pointing down at his muddy jeans.

“Dean, this is what happens when you try to-”

“This is what happens when I try to what? She got out of the car and derailed the whole thing. We can’t exactly pull her out of it and do the FBI schtick if she gets out on her own!” said Dean.

“We could have done the FBI schtick! You’re just a dumbass!” said Sam.

“I’m a dumbass? You’re a dumbass! You know how much more death is going to come if we don’t kill that thing? We need to get rid of it. Tonight,” said Dean.

“Lots of death, huh? Personally, I’m trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!” you said, clapping your hands togehter and turning around, trying to head down the road.

“You’re going to die if you do that you know,” said Dean. “It won’t be pretty.”

“So you suggest I stay with...whatever the hell you guys are?” you asked.

“Hunters,” said Sam. “We hunt monsters and save people. It’s kind of our thing.”

“Oh. I forgot to tell you guys I’m a space cowboy so I totally get the unique job thing but I’m gonna go now, kay? Bye,” you said, heading down the road, a hand fisting in your jacket a few moments later.

“Think we’re bat shit crazy all you want, Y/N but we’re not going to let you get torn to shreds,” said Dean, smoothing out your jacket, his gun now by his side. “Come on. You’ll be able to tell your grandkids about the time you kicked a monsters ass.”

“You are insane. You realize that right?” you asked, Dean just smiling as you realized Sam and his flashlight were gone. 

“Sure. I’m insane. I want you to just keep talking to me like normal right now,” said Dean, rubbing your arm. “Just look at me unless you want to get us both killed.”

“Why would I do that?” you asked, Dean tilting his head to the right.

“Because there is a monster hunting us from the tree line right now and Sammy needs a better shot before he can take it,” said Dean. “When I tug you behind me, you’re going to run straight back as hard and fast as you can, understand? I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’re insane,” you said, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. 

“You already said that,” said Dean. “You feel how cold the air got, didn’t you?”

“It’s the weather,” you said, watching the goosebumps prickle over Dean’s skin, the way his pink lips turned an almost blueish shade. “It’s freezing.”

“I hope you’re not averse to makeshift flamethrowers,” said Dean. “Sammy’s got to light this thing up.”

“Why are we talking if it’s so close?” you asked.

“It’s incredibly deadly but it’s hearing is crap when it’s in it’s supernatural form,” said Dean. “I think I just saw a pair of blue eyes in the dark. Any second now, sweetheart.”

“You’re insane,” you said, your fingertips turning pink from the sudden temperature drop, all of your senses telling you something was hunting you at the moment.

“You’re like a broken record,” he teased. “I hear Sammy coming up behind me so here we-”

“Ouch,” you said, flat on your back staring up at Sam and Dean. 

“Hey, she lives!” said Sam, Dean helping you sit upright. You looked around but saw nothing more than a few linger flames.

“I didn’t even get to see it!” you said, pressing a hand to your head.

“You wanted to see the monster? Maybe you’re the insane one,” said Dean, cocking his head with a grin. He pressed a bandana against the back of your head and you winced. “He may have thrown a rock at your head before I could you behind me. Sorry about that.”

“Well, I’m not dead so I guess I’ll take the concussion,” you said. “Sorry I kind of...freaked out.”

“You did better than most people actually,” said Sam. “You didn’t faint once or nothing.”

“Just fell head over heels for me,” said Dean with a big grin.

“Last cocky guy I knew got his ass charbroiled you know,” you said, Sam snorting beside you. 

“Oh, now that the monster’s been dealt with I’m sure Y/N will say she had it handled by herself, right?” asked Dean, getting you to your feet.

“Totally. A little lighter fluid and a flare gun is all a girl needs,” you joked, the guys looking at each other.

“We have a flare gun. Why have we never thought of that?” asked Sam.

“Because we’re dumbasses and Y/N isn’t,” said Dean. You wobbled a little when you took a step but Dean caught your arm. “Okay, let’s take you to get your head checked out.”

“Just drop me off at a hospital. I’ve been in your guy’s hair enough tonight,” you said. “Thanks for the save.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”

@baconlover001 @emilymorgan1994 @jensenackesl @captainemwinchester @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @xfanqirlinq @anokhi07 @akshi8278 @fandom--shipper @xxwinchester-22xx

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[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Matchmaker Misha

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Y/N Collins, Briana Buckmaster

Pairing: Jensen x Reader (sorta), Misha x sister!reader, Misha x Briana (sorta)

Warnings: Cheeky Misha, flustered baby!Jensen (yep both are warnings!), mention of naked Y/N.

Word Count: 1300ish

A/N: This one fits into my College AU but like all the others it can 100% be read as a one shot.

It is also my entry for @percywinchester27 aka Ana’s PJO Quotes Challenge where my prompt was: “I tried to think of something to say. Excuse me? Hello? Marry me? Anything would have done.”

Thanks to sweet wonderful lovely (yep laying it on thick - second fic I made her beta in a day) @like-a-bag-of-potatoes for betaing this for me.

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

MASTERLIST

“Hey Ackles!” The playful voice from the bleachers drew Jensen’s attention from baseball practice towards his voice for a brief moment. Jensen smiled and shook his head in amusement when he saw Misha waving and almost dropping the pile of papers he was carrying in the process. Jensen heard the snort from one of the players and his eyes instantly landed on the guy. He had been about to yell something at Misha, no doubt to make fun of him, but one look from the captain of the team and his gaze fell to the ground.

Misha was a journalism major and quite frankly a quirky guy. That didn’t matter to Jensen though. He didn’t care that Misha wasn’t like everyone else. Actually he enjoyed that about him. Misha was funny, kind hearted and a goof. The two of them had quickly formed an unlikely friendship and there was no way in hell Jensen was going to allow his teammates to make fun of his best friend.

Just like always when Misha showed up at the stadium, Jensen finished his practice before jogging over to where his buddy was sitting with a pencil behind his ear and his nose buried in his notes, no doubt trying to make heads and tales of what he scribbled down during his last interview.

“What’s up Mish?” Jensen chuckled when Misha jumped, clearly surprised by the sound of Jensen’s voice, lost in his own thoughts. Misha didn’t pay much attention to the jump scare nor Jensen’s amusement though. He simply pulled a face at his friend, before a smirk appeared on his lips.

“So I hear you were checking out my sister while she was swimming in the lake the other day,” Misha teased, knowing it would get Jensen feeling flustered and guilty, even if neither Misha or Y/N cared that he had been staring.

“I… No I didn’t… I mean I was looking for yo… I wasn’t… Oh shut up,” Jensen stammered as Misha started laughing so hard he nearly dropped his pile of notes once more.

“Hey, she is not that shy or innocent,” Misha laughed, tucking his notes into his backpack knowing he would end up losing them if he didn’t. “Besides she thinks you’re cute. Why didn’t you just say something?” Misha grinned, causing Jensen to blush a new shade of red.

Jensen shifted on his feet, looking everywhere but at Misha. What the hell was he supposed to say? That he choked? That he couldn’t even form words? Should he say that he tried to think of something to say? Excuse me? Hello? Marry me? Anything would have done, but no words had been able to pass his lips. Jensen couldn’t exactly tell her brother that, and besides all that sounded over and over in his head was Misha saying Y/N found him cute.

“Yeah? She said that?” Jensen was still more than a little flustered by the situation. Damn Collins’.

“Yes she said that, but she didn’t need too. She’s my sister. She likes you and judging by the color of your face, you like her too,” Misha looked more than a little proud of himself, chuckling as he ducked out of the way when Jensen threw his water bottle at him.

“Is that she only reason you came out here? To be a dick about me finding your sister hot?” Jensen glared at his friend, whose face suddenly looked like a man of great suffering.

“Don’t call my baby sister hot!” Misha complained making Jensen laugh jumping the bleachers, giving Misha a friendly push.

“You’re a weirdo man. You are okay with me ogling at her while she is skinny dipping but when I call her hot you look like you’re dying,” Jensen grinned when Misha flinched again.

“Okay, I’ll stop. Just stop saying that, would you,” Misha almost whined making Jensen laugh even harder before nodding and reaching out his hand to him which Misha gladly took.

“Deal. Now what do you want?” Jensen asked as he started packing his bag he had left on the bleacher before changing his shoes.

“Can’t a guy come visit his best friend without an ulterior motive?” Misha gave Jensen his best innocent face, making Jensen stop tying his shoes and sit up straight, staring at him.

“Yeah that’s not suspicious at all. Come on buddy. Spill it,” Jensen ordered and Misha let out a deep sigh, knowing he was caught and might as well get it over with. He had hoped to be more smooth about this, but Jensen was smart as hell, especially for a jock and almost always saw right through Misha’s poorly executed plans.

“Y/N wanted to go to the Mumford and Sons concert this weekend. We got tickets and I promised to take her,” Misha explained, as Jensen leaned back not getting any less suspicious about this. “Turns out Bri got two tickets too and….” Misha pulled a face, rather annoyed that he would have to admit this to Jensen, “I’ve been trying to get her to go out with me forever. She asked me to go with her so…”

“So you wanna rub your sister off on me?” Jensen asked, his eyes widening a little and his heart instantly started racing. It wasn’t like he was a Casanova or something, but he never felt like this by the thought of just being near a girl. There was something about Y/N that both made Jensen terrified and excited about the idea of going on a date with her. Even if it was a double date with her brother tagging along.

“You’re sure it’s not just not you playing matchmaker?” Jensen mumbled, as he couldn’t shake the feeling that Misha was up to something.

“Jay, have you seen Bri? I have been asking her out for 2 months now and she keeps giving me excuses, and then walking out of the shower in a towel and straight to my room asking for some crap she damn well know I don’t have,” Misha grumbled making Jensen laugh. He had only met Briana once but he liked her and he was sure she was just trying to rattle, the at times slightly cocky, Misha. By the looks of it her plan had been working since Misha was so desperately trying to not turn down this date.

“Fine,” Jensen sighed, somehow knowing he was going to regret this. “When do I pick her up?”

“Just be at our place Saturday at 7. We’ll go as a group and have dinner somewhere first,” Misha beamed jumping off the bleacher heading back towards the library building before turning around calling out to Jensen before he could disappear into the dressing room.

“Oh and Jensen… This wasn’t me playing matchmaker but I still would have, had I not needed a favor,” Misha grinned, causing Jensen to momentarily consider throwing one of his warm tennis shoes at his friend's face, before sending Misha an innocent smile as he shouted back.

“It’s okay. I’m looking forward to a date with your hot sister,” Jensen chuckled walking into the dressing room after successfully having wiped the smirk of Misha’s face, leaving him with a tortured expression instead. The grin on Jensen’s face however soon paled as it dawned on him that he would have to spend an entire evening with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. The girl he turned into a stuttering mess in front off. The girl he more than anything wanted to impress, but that was difficult when the mere sight of her made him blush fifty shades of red.

“Great,” Jensen mumbled throwing his bag into his locker, praying to whoever was listening that he wouldn’t screw up this chance with her.

Jensen Tag Team

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OCY Tag Team

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[torn-and-frayed]

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Tragedy Strikes

Word Count: 3148

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Some angst

A/N: Unbeta’d. All mistakes are mine. This part was written for 3 different challenges:

Ana’s PJO Challenge: Quote in bold in the fic (modified a bit) 

Karina’s Season’s of Love Challenge Prompt: Frostbite

and Taylor’s Favorite Seasons Gif Challenge

Feedback and Constructive Criticism Always Appreciated

Series Masterlist 

“Jensen, you look like absolute crap. You shouldn’t be filming today.” You pressed your lips to his forehead, despite his grumbling. “And you’re really warm. I think you have a fever.” Jensen had been sick for days and getting progressively worse, but he refused to slow down for even just a day to rest. He was driving you crazy.

 “Can’t.” He murmured, sounding even more congested than just hours ago when you went to sleep. “If I don’t film it slows production down and throws everything off.” He wasn’t really wrong. This episode was very heavy on your character and Dean. You’d both had to travel over an hour every day to a place north of Vancouver to shoot on location in the snow.

 “Then at least drink some coffee and take some medicine.” You sighed, grabbing a bottle of medicine off the shelf. “What’ll it be? Pumpkin spice or peppermint mocha, fancypants?”

 “Shut up.” He glared at you, a small smile on his lips and you couldn’t help but break into laughter. “Whatever you’re drinkin’ I guess.”

 “So, peppermint.” You pursed your lips and nodded, moving to make him a travel cup. “I’m really glad you’re embracing your inner fancy coffee snob, you know? It’s really endearing. I still really wish you’d stay home today. We could just do my coverage or something. We could figure it out.” You moved to rest your hand on his face and he really was way too warm and pale.

 “I’m OK. I Promise.” Jensen smiled although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come on, Clif is probably already waiting outside with Jared and Misha.” You made sure you had everything, including enough medicine for Jensen in your bag before you left with a heavy sigh, knowing full well he was just making himself worse.

 The ride to the location shoot was long enough that it gave Jensen time to rest and he fell asleep with his head on your shoulder about 5 minutes away from your apartment while you kept running your fingers through his hair. Jared and Misha could tell he was sick enough they didn’t even try to fuck with him. “We could’ve figured something out and he could’ve stayed home today.” Jared spoke low from the front seat. “You’re both gonna be out in the snow all day. He’s just gonna get worse.”

 “That’s what I said this morning. He’s a jackass he doesn’t listen.” You sighed. “I’m gonna have the doctor take a look at him on set when we get some down time.” You didn’t miss the small smirk and shake of his head from Jared. “What?”

 “Nothing.” He shrugged. “Just you, acting like so wifely already.” You shoved your hand over Jensen’s ear, hoping he hadn’t heard that. His other ear was pressed firmly against your shoulder.

 “Dude.” You hissed at Jared. “Shut up. We’re not – I’m not ready for that yet.” Your stuttering gave you away and you could feel both Jared’s and Misha’s eyes on you, knowing you were full of shit. The truth was you were more than ready for Jensen to propose to you, but he hadn’t, so obviously he wasn’t ready, and you didn’t want to rush him. What you didn’t know was Jensen had a ring hidden away, but he was scared to ask you to marry him, afraid that you weren’t ready and he’d chase you away.

  “We’re here.” Clif broke up your conversation, parking the SUV in the lot with the rest of the crew’s cars. “Now leave Y/N alone, please.”

 “Thanks, Clif.” You smiled indignantly back at Jared then turned your attention to Jensen, shaking him gently. “Jens, hey. We’re here.” When all he did was grumble and rub his face further against your shoulder, you decided on a different tactic. You leaned down, pressing your lips gently against his. His eyes fluttered softly until he realized you were kissing him and he pulled back in protest.

 “You’re gonna get sick.” He grumbled and you shrugged your shoulders with a smile.

 “Then you can take care of me. We share a bed. I’m gonna get sick anyway.” You pecked his lips again and this time he reciprocated, giving in to your very sound logic. “Come on, sicko. Let’s get this done so we can get you home and medicated and tucked into bed where you belong.”

 The two of you slid out of the SUV and made your way in the opposite direction of Jared and Misha to film.

 It took several hours of filming in frigid, snowy conditions but you were finally able to get Jensen seen the doctor who said he had walking pneumonia. He still refused to go home, though. He insisted he would tough it out for the rest of the day and then see how he felt tomorrow before making any major decisions. You sighed in defeat, deciding to quit arguing when you’d never win.

 You both made your way back to the set, trudging through the snow drifts to get there. “It’s fucking freezing. And now it’s getting dark.” You complained, rubbing your hands together and leaning into Jensen’s feverishly warm body to get warm. “Could they have picked a colder day?” Snow stuck to the pieces of your hair under your beanie and your hood and you tried to shake the flakes away, succeeding only in making them stick to your already frigid face.

 “I’m sure they could’ve.” Jensen chuckled. “At least we’re spending most of the night in the car.”

 “Jensen, Y/N.” Phil approached and you both looked up, wondering why he was practically running through the snow to you. “There’s a storm rolling in, we wanna try to wrap your scenes before it gets here. We’re gonna have you both drive out ahead of us in the Impala with the camera attached just to get some driving scenes from you two and we’ll follow you out in a few.”

 “Got it.” Jensen nodded and laced his gloved fingers with yours, leading you to the Impala and opening your door for you. You practically dove inside to the warmth and shed your winter jacket and gloves, down to your character’s normal clothes. Jensen took his place in the driver’s side and took off driving down the snow covered back roads.

 The snow had started to fall a little harder as you drove further away and the car was sliding despite Jensen’s driving skills, making you nervous. The crew was nowhere in sight yet and you were starting to worry that the storm was rushing in faster than anticipated. “Are you OK?” Jensen questioned. “You look like you might throw up.”

 “Me? I’m fine. I’m just worried we’re not – “ A scream erupted from your throat before you could finish your sentence, the Impala hit a patch of black ice that sent it spinning across the road. Jensen tried hard to save it, but the entire road was a sheet of ice and there was nothing he could do but let it play out however it was supposed to. The Impala spun into a nearby ditch, the front end crashing hard into a tree.

 “Y/N? Hey!” Jensen grabbed you across the seat, checking you for injuries.

 “I’m OK.” You nodded, checking him over for the same thing, finding him to be just fine. “Car’s not.” There was smoke coming from the hood; no way was it in any condition to drive back.

 “Shit.” Jensen muttered and pulled your jackets, hats, and gloves from the back seat, handing you yours. You shimmied into them and slid across the seat, huddling with Jensen for warmth. It was already starting to get cold inside the Impala, the wind outside had picked up considerably and with no heat inside anymore it was only a matter of time before it started freezing inside. He dug inside his pockets, pulling out his phone. “Fuck. It’s dead. Do you have yours?”

 “Yeah, I should.” You shifted away, fumbling through your pockets. Panic started to overtake you when all your pockets came up empty. “Oh no.”

 “What?”

 “I think I left it back in the doctor’s trailer when we got you checked out.” Tears started to burn in your eyes and Jensen pulled you back against his chest, kissing your temple. “They’ll never find us out here. They might not be coming anymore since the storm picked up. They might’ve called us to tell us to come back and we didn’t get the call.”

 “They’re comin’, sweetheart.” Jensen rubbed up and down your arms, creating friction for warmth. “Even if they did cancel the shoot, if they couldn’t get us, they’ll come looking.”

 Jensen started to shiver after about 15 minutes, his fever making him feel even colder than he actually was. He was still burning up to the touch. You lasted a bit longer than him before you were utterly freezing, his body heat helping to keep you warm. “We can’t stay in this car.” You said through chattering teeth. “We’ll freeze to death if they don’t find us. Or end up buried in the snow.”

 “There was a cabin a little ways back. The one we were gonna film in. You think we can make it there?” Jensen asked.

 “I’m more worried about you, Jens.” You sighed. “You’re already sick. I can make it just fine, what about you?”

 “Well, it’s that or freeze, right?” Jensen chuckled and you glared at him, not seeing the humor in it at all. “I’m fine, baby, come on. Let’s get whatever we can use outta the car and get going before the storm really amps up.” You wrote a note before getting out of the car, letting whoever found the damaged car know you were both unharmed and where you were going so they knew where to look.

 Jensen pulled you out of the car and into the wind and the snow, moving to the trunk. You pulled out the duffel and stuffed a blanket inside along with some working lighters and started on your way, your arm linked with Jensen’s.

 The cabin wasn’t far. It was less than a mile down the road, but it felt like a lifetime away. The cold from the wind was burning every bit of exposed skin. You could barely breathe and the snow was piling higher, making it harder and harder to walk. The cold was seeping through your jeans, moist from the snow, and your legs were refusing to move, slowing you both down.

 When the cabin finally came in to view, you were practically dragging each other to the door. You couldn’t feel your hands or feet anymore, you probably had frostbite, but you were determined to get Jensen somewhere warm and safe before taking care of yourself.

 It took all your combined strength to pull the door open but when you finally did you shoved Jensen inside first and followed behind him, slamming the door shut behind you. The cabin was tiny, consisting of only a small kitchen with a table and a few chairs, a bed, a couch, and a fireplace. The bathroom was in a room off to the side, but other than that, you’d seen the whole place as soon as you opened the door.

 Jensen went straight for the lights, flipping the switch several times to no avail. “Power’s out.” He sighed in defeat. “At least it has a fireplace.” He looked absolutely exhausted and so much paler than before.

 “I got it. Get your wet clothes off.” Jensen glared at you like you were absolutely insane. “I know you think I’m crazy but if you don’t get those wet clothes off you’re gonna get frostbite or hypothermia.” You moved to the fireplace and started stacking wood and paper in it. You were freezing and you hands were fumbling everything, dropping them in the fireplace more than organized stacking. Your gloves were soaked and your jeans were soaked, but you needed to start the fire and get Jensen warm before you could think about yourself.

 You finally ripped off your gloves, the skin on your hands an angry red, and tried to light the lighter. You couldn’t get a grip on it, fumbling with it and dropping it on the floor several times before Jensen appeared behind you. “I got it.” Jensen murmured in your ear, gently taking the lighter from your hands. “Get those wet clothes off before you freeze to death. You were right. It’s the fever, I’m not thinking clear or I would’ve known to do that on my own.”’

 You quickly stripped down to the layer of clothes that wasn’t soaked through, leaving you in just a flannel shirt, t-shirt, and underwear. Jensen hadn’t fared much better when you really looked at him. He was still wearing his flannel and his t-shirt, along with his boxers. You made quick work of checking the small kitchen in the cabin for supplies, finding it barren. You slammed one of the cabinet doors shut in frustration, catching Jensen’s attention. “I’m sorry.” You huffed. “I just thought there’d be food or something.”

  “Hopefully we won’t be here long enough to need it.” Jensen was always so hopeful. You weren’t sure if he did that for his own benefit, yours, both, or if he was truly that optimistic. “Come get warm.” You hadn’t even noticed Jensen had managed to get the fire going. It was small but the warmth was spreading through the tiny room. You quickly grabbed his and your balled up clothes and laid them out by the fire and moved to the bed, crawling in with him.

 “Here, get close.” Jensen said and pulled you in. “Body heat is good.” Any excuse to snuggle with him, you’d gladly take, and you snuggled as close as you could get, tangling your arms and legs together and pressing your chest to his. You pulled the blankets up and he snuggled even closer, the fever and the cold making him shiver.

 “How do you feel? Be honest.” You said, looking him in his gorgeous green eyes.

 “Like shit.” He let out a cough and laid his head on the pillow right in front of you, seeing the concern in your eyes. “I’ve been worse. I promise.” He took your free hand in his under the covers and you hissed in pain at the simple touch. “Oh, baby, I think it’s frostbitten.” He let go, releasing the pressure and gently laid it against his burning skin for warmth instead. You moved your other hand to rest against his back, sliding it under the t-shirt and sighed in pleasure at how nice it felt.

 Both of you laid there in silence after that, listening to the howling wind and the crackle of the fire. You could see the snow building up outside the window. It was so high it was halfway up the window now. No way were you getting out of here without someone to plow you out.

 Your eyelids started to flutter despite yourself. Your hope was Jensen didn’t catch it, but of course he did. “You’re tired.” He said. “I’ll take first watch. They should be here soon. Sleep. I’ll wake you up when they get here.”

 “Jensen, no. It’s ok.” You tried to protest but all he did was pull you in closer and cradle you to his body. His fever was higher, that much was clear from just how warm he was. Part of you knew sleeping was a bad idea right now, but your brain was cloudy and confused. Maybe if you’d given it more thought you wouldn’t have given in so easily, or maybe your body wasn’t giving you a choice. You didn’t want to sleep, but your body betrayed you. Your eyelids turned to lead. “Hey, wake me for second watch. Don’t be a hero.”

 He gave you that smirk you’d come to love. “Who, me?” He kissed you, his lips parched and feverishly warm. “Sleep.”  You fell asleep in seconds wrapped in his embrace like this.

 Jensen waited, rubbing your back, watching out the window for any sign of someone coming to rescue you. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours, until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and he drifted off, his face buried in your hair. Neither of you heard the crackle of the fire die and the howling of the winds pick up. Neither of you felt the temperatures dip down even colder than they had been before. Neither of you noticed when help finally arrived.

 “They’re here!” Jared yelled from the door and ran inside, shaking you both. “Hey, Y/N/N, Jackles! Wake up!” When he got no response from either of you he started with you, turning you gently to your back. Your skin was absolutely freezing to the touch and your lips were a shade of blue he’d only seen in movies, but you were still breathing, ragged and shallow. Jensen’s breathing could be heard, the congestion rattling in his chest, but also shallow and terrifying. “Get the fucking medics in here! Now!”

 It took too long for anyone’s liking to get you both out of the woods and to a hospital where real rewarming could start. Jared tried hard to get you both in the same room so he and Misha weren’t running between rooms contacting your families, but the hospital had been adamantly against that. They traded off periodically, one taking your room and the other taking Jensen’s. Misha sat in your room tonight while Jared took Jensen’s, texting each other progress notes back in forth. So far, there hadn’t been any. Neither of you showed any signs of waking up anytime soon, no signs of life at all other than the fact that you were both there, right in front of them. All they could do was wait.

 “This is amazing.” You leaned back into Jensen’s chest in the huge cabin on the mountain he’d brought you to for the much anticipated week off, clutching your peppermint hot chocolate in your hand and watching the snow fall lightly out the window. “You’re amazing. You think of everything.” The fire was roaring, everything was quiet and peaceful, just you and Jensen, just like you wanted.

“I’m really glad you love it.” Jensen leaned down and kissed your neck, making you shiver.

 “I love any time I get to spend with you alone.” You leaned your head back, capturing his lips with yours. The light of the fire caught your wedding ring when you shifted and you stared at it, moving your fingers against the light. “I can’t believe we finally got married. I thought we never would. I love you, Mr. Ackles.”

 “I love you too, Mrs. Ackles.” Jensen chuckled, lacing his fingers with your free hand and pulling you back in for another tender kiss.

Part 3 Coming Spring 2018

Jensen Tags: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @adaliamalfoy @aiaranradnay @akshi8278 @apeshit7x @ariannnawinchester @arryn-nyxx @aubreystilinski @autopistaaningunaparte @babydanixox @bakabozza @beacon-hills-chance-harbor @betterlattethennever @blacktithe7 @bloodysideofhell @boredoutofmymindstuff @born-to-be-his-baby88 @bringmesomepie56 @capsofwinchesters @captainradicalpassion @charliebradbury1104 @chickenmcsade @clarewinchester @d-s-winchester @dancingalone21  @deanswhiskeyveins @deanwinchesterisamazing @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @docharleythegeekqueen  @dragontearsandunicornfears @dreamsfromthebunker @duckieburns @duherica @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emohermione @emoryhemsworth @escabell @evansrogerskitten @evilskank-inthemegacoven @fangirlingfanatic2442 @feelmyroarrrr @gabavaldman  @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @growningupgeek @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @itseverythingilike @iwantthedean @iwriteshortstuff @jalove-wecallhimdean @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @jayankles @jensen-gal @jensen-jarpad @jojo-nz @jotink78 @kalliravenne @kgbrenner @kittenofdoomage @kittycat-cas @lenaabs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes   @mayasmedberg @meeshw777 @mogaruke @my-supernatural-dreams  @nichelle-my-belle @not-moose-one-shots @nothingeverdies @notmoose45 @outerxorbit @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @riakie @riversong-sam @rlawson418 @ruprecht0420 @sammysflannels @sandlee44 @silver-and-green @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @smoothdogsgirl @soobi89 @spn-fan-girl-173 @spontaneousam @starswirlblitz @stilinski15 @summoningsupernatural @supernatural-girl97 @supernatural-jackles @supernatural0826 @taste-of-dean @tattooedluci @teepartyy @the-angels-stole-the-tardis @thelastxgoodthing @thereisnolumos @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @waywardjoy @whit85-blog @winchestdiaries @winchester-writes  @winchesterprincessbride @winchesters-favorite-girl @yellowtheremarvelfan @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

[jayankles]

Why Not Both? Part 4

Pairing: Cockles x Reader

Word Count: 1150

Summary: You, Misha and Jensen talk about your feelings for one another and end up in a polyamorous relationship. The three of you are equal and love each other with all your heart. Although the sex is great, is the love the three of you share enough to get you through the surprise that is on the other end of the road.

Rating: Mature

Square filled: Bartender!Jensen

Written for @spnaubingo and @percywinchester27 Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge with the prompt ‘I gave her my deluxe “I’ll kill you later stare.”’

A/N – This is part 4 of the series but can be read as part one. The first three parts are pure smut.

Why Not Both? - Masterlist

You shouldn't have done what you did, but you didn't know what else you could do. You were in shock.

Both of the boys were perplexed with your withdrawal from them, it punched them in the gut a few times too.

When they had opened up the bar, they noticed that you still hadn't shown your face. Not even to say hello.

'You think she's busy?' Jensen asked as he wiped over the sticky surface of the bar counter top.

Misha looked up from his paperwork, checking the stock and inventory they had and needed to get. 'Again? She's been busy for the last seven days, surely she would have texted or called, and I don't think Stan would have been that hard on her to giver her work that needs 24/7 observation.'

'Do you think she doesn't wanna be with us anymore? Maybe she doesn't like to have two, or it was just too much?' Jensen babbled, all the possible scenarios being that he had done something wrong, that there was too much pressure to be with both him and Misha.

'But I can't think why, she was the one to ask us to do this. We were happy to do this, Jensen. Is it too much to ask to at least get a call from her.'

Jensen wracked his brain to see if he had done anything wrong, when he came up empty he asked Misha if he had even an inkling of an idea of your whereabouts.

'Oh yeah sure, I gave her my deluxe “I’ll kill you later stare.” Full beady little eyes and everything. Told her to run away from us because we're too great, and I wanted you all to myself.' Misha exasperated with flailing arms. Of course, he had no idea where you were. He wanted you with them just as much as Jensen did, but any rational thought flew out the window, much like the words tumbled out of Misha's mouth.

Jensen had rounded the bar counter top, his rag disposed of and almost instantly forgotten. Jensen smoothed down the wrinkles of Misha's work shirt, gripping his hands and bringing them up.

'I'm sorry, okay. I want her to be here with us, I do, but I'm just so worried about her. I want her back home with us, where she belongs.'

'I'll put this stuff away and then give her call. All we can do is hope that our girl comes back to us, Jensen.'

Jensen nodded and checked his watch, another hour before they would open, he helped Misha clear the table before the latter pulled his phone out and dialed your number once again. The same thing happened, it rang and rang until it went to your voicemail.

You had asked your boss, Stan, for some time off from work. You had to process what you had learned a few days ago. He had happily agreed, due to you being a member of staff that hadn’t yet taken a day off from work.

Your cell had blasted - again. Checking the caller ID, you let it go to voicemail, not really wanting to talk to Misha or Jensen.

Looking at the time, you figured you should eat, everything you used to love now made you heave and the fact that you were now carrying a bun in the oven made you scared that you wouldn’t be able to eat.

Of course, you were being a little dramatic, just a little.

You had met up with your little brother, Alexander, and your best friend, Briana. They had instantly noticed that something was wrong when you had turned your nose up to your favourite meal, claiming that you weren’t hungry for anything.

Alex had promised to keep your secret from your parents until you were ready to tell them. Briana had gone out and told you she would be back soon and the doorbell indicated that that time was now.

You yanked the door open and walked back to your place on the couch. Under the blankets with your legs tucked under you.

‘I got you a few books for you to read. Some of them are pregnancy books but then I got you some of those one that you just love to read.’

When you didn't answer her, Briana continued, placing a hand on your blanket covered shoulder.

‘You have to talk to them, Y/N/N, they'll be worried sick and you can't avoid them forever.’

She had a point, of course she did. ‘But Bri, I'm scared.’ You almost whispered.

‘I know, sweetie, and I know it wasn't planned but they'll love that little bug in there.’ She said comfortingly.

‘You really think so?’ You peeked your head out of the blanket so that you could see her.

She nodded. ‘I do. And the fact that they haven't stopped calling you has gotta mean something right? They care about you and they'll come to love that baby too. I doesn't matter about how early on in the relationship it is. If they wanted to be with you then they gotta accept that your carrying their child.’

She was wise beyond her years and you were thankful that Briana was your best friend.

‘Thank You, Bri. Can you grab my phone please?’ You asked, your hands dragging the stack of books under the blanket so you could hug them to yourself.

Briana handed you your cell and left you to cook you some food that didn't want to make you gag.

You had sent a text to both Jensen and Misha apologising for your behaviour and asking if you could meet them after their shifts and were taken over for the night. Naturally, they took any opportunity they could so agreed immediately. They just wanted to know that you were okay.

Jensen and Misha kept their eye on the clock all day, waiting for the time that they could ask Mark, their manager to take over and meet you at their apartment.

You had finally plucked up enough go. The pregnancy tests you had taken to be sure that you were actually pregnant were tucked into your purse, your heart was pounding in your chest. You were still nervous and scared as hell.

Once you were inside, you pulled your coat off and folded it over your arm.

Misha and Jensen had kept a relatively small distance away from you, respecting you and your needs.

You apologised to them with ultimate sincerity, in which they asked you why you had pulled away from them.

Taking a deep breath, you sipped at the water they offered you, mentally preparing yourself for the bombshell that you were going to drop on them.

You pushed the water away from you and pulled your purse closer, ready to pull out the pregnancy test.

‘I'm pregnant and I don't know who the father is.’

FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED

Jensen - @thorne93 @becaamm @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @jotink78 @love-kittykat21 @jensen-jarpad @capsheadquaters  @kurosaki224-new-blog @supernatural-jackles @cyrilconnelly  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @iwantthedean @ruprecht0420 @mrswhozeewhatsis @feelmyroarrrr @mogaruke @anotherhuntersjournal  @sometimes-iwrite-blog @pureawesomeness001 @mizzezm @jpadjackles @jesspfly @urpeachess @skybinx-blog @deansbaekaz2y5 @plaidstiel-wormstache @lilasiannerd @valerieshubin @be-amaziing @akshi8278 @purplediamon @graceforme86 @its-my-perky-nipples @nervousmemzie @percussiongirl2017  @oneshoeshort @whit85-blog @emoryhemsworth @reallyverynodansi  @milo-winchester-4ever @captainradicalpassion @captainemwinchester @ilsawasanacrobat @alicat-life @cojootromuelle @essie1876 @dancingalone21 @iamabeautifulperson18 @dslocum89 @atc74 @superwhomerlockinuum @spnbaby-67 @anitalasirenita @queencflair  @weasleywinchester-blog @ria132love @spn-fan-girl-173 @nightlyinsomnious @easelweasel @grace-for-sale @roxyspearing @cassieraider @gemini75eeyore @winchesterdemon67

Misha - @casbabes @ladydork

Why Not Both? - @sherlocksgaze @awesomenursingstudent @impala-dreamer  @scarlettwinchester23 @yamaguccih @erin654 @wishuponastarlana  @goldenolaf25 @carbonated-beverage @sofreddie @duckgirl16 @rocsahlt  @smileydolphinsml @trainlikeawinchester @spndeanlover1967 @sweetest-little-fox @bisexualdolphinthings @fanfreak07 @poemwriter98 @docharleythegeekqueen @plaid-lover-bay25 @misticty

[rizlowwritessortof]

A Matter of... Time?

This piece of work - not quite sure what to call it, a little crack-ish maybe? was written for @percywinchester27 Ana’s PJO Quotes Challenge! (Ana, I made it!!!) My quote is in bold, and - of course - I chose Dean. And it was a challenge, I really struggled with this, but I also had a lot of fun!

Thank you to @mrs-squirrel-chester  for being the bestest beta ever, I love you to PIECES 😘  

You groaned as you opened your eyes, the sun blinding you. Something... something large, alive and breathing, was pushing against your face, and you held your breath for a moment before it snorted and sent you skittering backward in a panic. You raised your eyes to see a white stallion, who proceeded to paw politely at the ground, tossing his head a little as if to greet you.

You fought to disentangle your feet from the... skirts? You looked down at yourself and your mouth opened in shock as you tried to absorb what you were seeing. You were wearing some kind of fancy silk gown, yards and yards of frothy cloth tangled around your legs. And then it dawned on you. “Dean? Dean! Are you all right?”

A loud moan was all you received in answer, and then, “What the... Y/N? What the hell is going on?” You finally managed to bunch your skirts up enough to stand, turning towards the direction of the noise, Dean's cursing and some sort of clanking and banging of metal.

Oh, shit. “Dean! Why are you wearing a suit of armor?”

“Well, I don't fucking know, but I could use a little help here!”

***

“What?” Dean was looking at you as if he expected an answer. Apparently you had made a noise as you were reading, disgusted.

“People are just… how can someone just randomly… Okay, this guy, just trying to spend some peaceful time in the hills, hiking and camping, all by himself, not bothering anybody. Just doing his thing. And someone beat him half to death. In the middle of the woods somewhere!” You looked at Dean, frustrated. “I wish we could just take over for a while. Just line the assholes up and shoot them or something. Don’t you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?”

Dean smiled wryly, hanging his head a little as he shook it. “Umm… no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.” He looked at you again. “Robbery? Gang thing?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t get that far.” You went back to the article, from the Rapid City Journal, and Dean watched your face as your eyes widened. “Oh.”

“What, oh?”

“That’s why it popped on my search filter. All sorts of weird.”

“Our kind of weird?”

“Maybe. I think we’re heading to South Dakota.”

***

“Are we sure this guy isn’t just looney-tunes?”

You couldn’t help the smile that teased at your lips as Sam berated his brother. “Dean, you might at least want to make an attempt at not being completely rude.”

“The guy says he got sent back in time, come on.”

You laughed softly. “Dean, you got sent back in time – remember? And into the future!”

“Yeah, well – that was angels. They aren’t so much overly involved down here any more. They never just randomly sent people back, anyway. And we killed Chronos, the god of time. So – that leaves crazy. Or something that causes crazy.”

“Or something we don’t know about yet, Dean. Just – try to keep an open mind, okay?” Sam sighed as Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah… open mind. Goes both ways, Sammy. You might have to accept that the guy’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

“Hey, you two,” you interjected from the back seat. “Are you gonna argue the entire trip? Because if you are, I’ll get my headphones out.”

After getting settled at a local motel in Rapid City, Dean drove you to the Regional Behavioral Health Center. You headed inside, playing the part of a family member visiting, while Sam and Dean left to check out local law enforcement. Your heels echoed in the empty hall as you walked to the nurses’ station, waiting patiently for someone to acknowledge your presence.

“May I help you?” You smiled as you turned to face the woman behind you, laden with an armful of files.

“Yes. Yes, I’m here to visit my cousin, Darrel. Darrel Easom? He was checked in a couple of days ago.”

She smiled and made her way behind the desk, plopping the paperwork down and sitting behind the computer. “Let me just get his room number for you, it’ll take just a moment.”

You paused outside the door, which was open just a crack. With a deep breath, you knocked and peeked your head in. “Darrel?”

“Yeah.” His voice was tired, raspy, and you entered, closing the door quietly behind you.

“Hi, Darrel. I’m Y/N.” You smiled and approached the bed, skillfully hiding your shock at his appearance. The man was in a cast shoulder to wrist, a bar holding his arm at an angle, and his face was bruised and swollen, stitches over one eye and beneath the other. “I just need to ask you a few questions about what happened to you last weekend.”

He rolled his eyes as best he could and sighed. “So you can add your signature to the pile that says I’m crazy? Sure, go ahead.”

“I’m not here to judge, Darrel. My colleagues and I are studying supernatural phenomena, and your story is just one of several that we’re researching. I’d just like to try and find out what happened to you.” He looked at you, still doubtful, but finally nodded.

“So – who did this to you?”

He stared up at you, his expression defensive, but you met his gaze steadily. “Fine. You wanna know who did this to me? I’ll tell you.” His jaw worked, and you saw a hint of fear in his eyes before he looked away, staring straight ahead. “Vikings.”

***

“Vikings?”

You couldn’t help but smile at their incredulous reaction. “Yeah. Vikings. And just wait.” You pulled your phone from your bag, along with the cord, and Dean laughed.

“What, you’re gonna call them?” You just grinned back at him, opening the laptop on the table in front of you and connecting the cord.

“He got video on his phone. Not much, and it’s not super clear, but he managed to cram his phone into his pocket before they beat the shit out of him.” You loaded the video clip that Darrel had reluctantly sent to you and pulled it up on the larger screen, hitting play as the boys crowded in behind you to watch.

The footage was a blur of bearded angry men, swords and garbled shouts, fur and chain mail and bloodied faces. You watched several times, finally shutting it off and turning to face Sam and Dean. “How the hell… how does this happen?”

“Did he… go there? Or did they come here?”

You scrunched your brow at Sam’s question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean – did he really time-travel? Was he in a strange place, or did something bring the Vikings to where he was?”

“He said he was hiking in the hills, lots of trees. He was on the phone to his sister, made some comment to her about being ‘close to nature,’ that it made him feel like he was wild and free – like a Viking. Said he’d been watching the TV series, so it just popped into his head. Then he said he felt weird, kind of dizzy, and heard strange sounds, like waves crashing on the shore. When his vision cleared, he said he was on a dark, stormy beach, and then – Vikings.”

“So… trickster? Cursed object?” Dean offered, shrugging.

You leaned back in the chair, looking up at Dean as his hand came to rest on your shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. I told Darrel there might be someone coming with a few more questions. Oh, and I managed to get his address from the nurses’ station.”

“Nice,” Dean grinned, giving your shoulder a squeeze, and you blushed a little.

“I could go back, talk to him, see if we can figure out if it was the area he was in or something he was carrying with him. If you guys want to go check out his place?” Sam offered as Dean backed up, giving you room to stand as you both nodded in agreement. You grabbed your duffle and closed yourself in the bathroom to change out of the suit and heels you’d worn to the Center.

After dropping Sam off, you and Dean set off for Darrel’s apartment a few blocks away. Dean’s voice startled you from your thoughts, and you looked towards him, unsure of what he had said. “Huh?”

“Are you okay? I mean, you’ve been kinda out of it for a couple of days now. Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No! No, of course not. I’m just...” you stammered. He hadn’t done anything. Well, no more than normal. Maybe it was the dream you’d had about him a couple of nights ago that had jolted you awake with the sound of your own voice moaning his name.  You closed your eyes for a moment, shoving the thoughts and feelings about that whole subject way down deep, forcing your mind to focus on the case, on Darrel Easom. The poor guy had looked confused, terrified about what had happened to him, and you needed to stop it from happening to someone else. “Really, Dean – there’s nothing wrong. I promise.”

Dean shot you a doubtful sideways glance, but stopped questioning you – at least for the time being. He pulled up and parked in front of a dilapidated old building, and the two of you headed into the front entrance.

“He’s fourth floor - #42,” you said, and Dean looked up the stairway.

“Of course he is,” he grumbled, and you both made your way up the creaking staircase, heaving a sigh of relief when you reached the fourth floor.  

It wasn’t hard to find Darrel’s camping equipment. His sister had dropped everything off, it sat in a pile right next to the door. “Careful,” you cautioned as Dean began to open the backpack. “Maybe we should, I don’t know, wear gloves or something?”

“Not sure that would help. I’m gonna try to just see what’s in there, not touch anything.” He turned the beam of his small flashlight to the inside of the bag, and you leaned in to look with him.

“Cursed granola bars, maybe?” you joked, and Dean smiled. “Maybe we should just take this back to the motel?”

“Yeah. Maybe Sam will have more information. Let’s go.”

You locked the apartment on your way out and led the way down the stairs, leaving Dean to carry Darrel’s backpack. As you turned to head down the second set of steps, you caught your foot on a loose board, and you cried out as you pitched forward.

“Y/N!” Dean shouted, grabbing for one flailing arm and yanking you, a little painfully, back to your feet beside him. “Shit, you okay?”

“That was too close. Not the way I want to die,” you managed to puff out, your heart pounding in your chest. You looked up at Dean’s concerned face and smiled. “My knight in shining armor.”

A strange, intense pressure built around you, seeming to suck all the air from your body and leaving you dizzy, your vision going dark as you and Dean cried out to each other. Then nothing, darkness and oblivion.

***

“This is your fault!” He was struggling to stand, sounding like a bag of tin cans had been dropped down a flight of stairs, and you reached to help him clumsily rise to his feet. He was encased in a full suit of armor, minus the helmet, which laid a few yards away.

“How is this my fault?” You looked at him, incredulous, trying not to smile as he gestured to his metal garb.

“Knight in shining armor? Ring any bells?”

“Like I wanted this to happen? Have you looked at me? Did I wish to be Princess Floofy Dress?”

His eyes focused on you for the first time, lingering over your squeezed and squashed and almost completely exposed breasts. “I might have wished for it if I’d known what the costume looked like,” he said, eyebrows raised, and you smacked his shoulder, wincing at the impact.

“Ouch. Asshole.” You looked around, hands on hips, trying to ignore Dean’s drooling over your bosom. “So – now what?”

“I got nothin’.”

“Well, obviously the cursed object is in the backpack, right?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean snarked back, and the air-sucking, dizzying feeling was back instantly, spinning you into a black abyss as you grabbed frantically for Dean’s gauntlet.

***

You opened your eyes to see hideous carpet beneath your feet, and raised them to see even more hideous wallpaper. “Dean?” you said softly, and he squeezed your hand.

“Right here.”

“Interesting.” A voice you’d never heard before startled you into turning, and your eyes widened as you saw before you none other than Sherlock Holmes, pipe in hand, staring quizzically back at you.

You turned your head to look at Dean, eyes scanning over his brown tweed suit. “This one’s on you, Winchester.”

“Watson, we seem to have visitors,” Holmes called out, and you watched, mouth open, as a shorter, stockier man entered the room.

“Oh, didn’t even hear a knock.”

“Well, that’s because they didn’t knock. Just sort of – appeared. Strange indeed.”

You turned back to stare at Holmes, bewildered. “But – you’re fictional.”

The famous detective sniffed, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “Well – where does that leave you, then?”

Dean grabbed your arm, leaning to whisper into your ear. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”

You smiled uncomfortably at the fictional characters in front of you. “Excuse us for a moment.” You let Dean pull you towards the door and out into the hall, closing the door behind you.

“This is not a time travel thing. This is a – fucked-up librarian curse or something. What the hell?” His eyes scanned over your form-fitting Victorian gown, then back up to meet your gaze.

“I don’t know. And I have no idea how to get back home. Dean, I’m scared.” You felt a little clutch of panic in your belly, and Dean readjusted Darrel’s backpack on his shoulder, reaching for your hand.

“It’s been taking us places that we say a phrase about, right? We just need to figure out what phrase gets us back home.” He frowned, glaring at you. “And don’t say that one, I don’t wanna go to Oz.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little, nodding in agreement. “Okay. Well, I’m open for suggestions.”

You jumped as the door jerked open, Sherlock’s face appearing in the space. “I thought you’d never ask.” He waved you back inside, and you perched on the edge of the sofa, your leg jumping nervously as Dean sat next to you, giving your hand a squeeze.  “So, your story is that you say a phrase, and then you’re transported to whatever setting that invokes?”

“That’s the only thing we can figure. We think we’ve got a cursed object in this backpack.” Dean stared at Sherlock as he pursed his lips, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully.

“Very interesting.” He stood suddenly, speaking brusquely to Dean. “Come, Mr….”

“Winchester.”

“Mr. Winchester, come with me.” Dean shouldered the backpack and moved to join him as you stood up to follow, but the detective shook his head. “Stay here where it’s safe. Relatively, at any rate, since we don’t really know what’s triggering these – little excursions.”

You stopped, disbelief on your face, hands on your hips.

Dean held up a hand. “Now, Y/N, don’t get all bent outta shape. At least if something happens and I – time warp, or whatever – again, you’ll be safe here and I’ll know where to find you.”

“Listen, Dean, don’t go all ‘Me, Tarzan – you, Jane’ on me!” Your raised voice sounded hollow at the end, echoing, and Dean rushed towards you, panic on his face, as the room began to blur.

“Damn it!” he shouted, and you felt him grab your arm before total blackout hit.

***

Your eyesight gradually cleared, along with the dizziness, and you slowly opened your eyes. It was  warm, no – scratch that, hot – and humid, and you could see nothing but leaves overhead. “Dean? Dean, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay.” You sat up slowly, your jaw dropping open as you saw him.

“Oh, my God.”

“Shut up!” He was pissed off, glaring at you, and as close to naked as you’d ever seen him. Your mouth went a little dry as you finally forced your eyes upward to meet his. “If you say one word, I swear to God...” he almost growled, and you try to stop staring.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Dean, I didn’t...”

“Didn’t mean to time machine us to the jungle and put me in a fucking loincloth? Yeah, I get that.”  He turned his back, and you glanced around. You were in a tree house of some sort, a pretty nice one, actually. You let your eyes move back to what they really wanted to look at. Dean’s hair was long and shaggy, almost like Sam’s, and he was clothed in nothing but a loincloth made from some kind of animal skin. He was barefoot, his strong legs, back and shoulders tan and freckled and… He whirled around, fury contorting his features, and you dropped your gaze immediately.

And you – you were wearing another stupid Victorian-style dress, but this one was well-ventilated, torn and ragged from whatever disaster had put you here, you’d guess. You stood up, brushing leaves from your clothes, just taking a breath to speak when Dean moved towards you suddenly. You flinched back from the murderous expression on his face, his eyes narrowed, as he reached around you. After a flurry of motion, he yanked a huge snake from above and behind you, tossing it out of the tree. A small whimper escaped your lips as you stood there in shock, then closed your eyes tight. “Thank you,” you managed, and you heard him blow out a breath.

“You okay?”

You were trembling, panic beginning to bubble inside you, defying your attempts at control. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, we have to get out of here, Dean! Say anything, take us anywhere! I can’t...”

You felt his arms around you, pulling you tight against him, soothing. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out.”

You stood there accepting his comfort for a few moments, getting your feet back under you. When you started to notice your hands on his skin, the swell of muscle rippling in his back as he hugged you, you blew out a deep breath and stepped back, your hands moving to his chest. You could feel something prodding at your hip, and you couldn’t help smiling. “Please tell me you’re just happy to see me – because if that’s another snake, I’m running all the way to Cleveland.” You raised your eyes slowly to his face, and the smirk he was trying to smother won out.

“Yeah, sorry, this uh... loincloth thing doesn’t hide much.”

“I – um – noticed that.” You smiled up at him, loving the way he was blushing, and stepped back a little further, winking. “Maybe another time, Tarzan. Cheetah could be home any minute.” He snorted a little, and you giggled, but your smiles gradually faded. “Well, so much for the world’s greatest detective helping us. What are we gonna do, Dean?” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Hey. Come on, sweetheart, it’s not so bad. At least nobody’s tried to kill us yet, like Darrell, right? I mean we could be in a medieval torture dungeon somewhere.” He froze, your horrified eyes meeting his as you grabbed hold of each other’s arms. “Fuck.”

***

“Ow.” You groaned, rubbing the back of your head as you forced yourself to sit up and look around. You were on a filthy stone floor, littered with straw and dirt, bars caging you in. You gave yourself a quick glance to take in your ragged appearance, your clothing practically in tatters. Apparently you had hit your head on the floor when you landed, and you winced as you rubbed at it again. “Dean, are you all right?” you gritted out between your teeth as you rose to your feet. He grimaced with pain as he sat up, then looked up at you anxiously.

“Are you hurt? Shit, that landing sucked,” he rasped out as he climbed to his feet.

“I’m okay. Bump on the head.”

“Let me see,” he said gruffly, approaching you and turning you away from him, his fingers running over your skull.

“Ouch! Dean!”

“Damn it, hold still!” he scolded as he parted your hair, looking at the good-sized lump. “Wow, we’re lucky you didn’t need stitches. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m as okay as I can be, considering we’re behind bars and probably about to be tortured!” You turned to face him, your fear seeping through your anger, your lip trembling a little.

He didn’t answer you for a moment, just looked down at the floor, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Y/N. Whatever happens, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He looked into your eyes, and you had to slide yours away, unable to face the intensity in his. “At least we’re in here together. We just need to figure out how to get back.”

“Yeah. That’s worked out really well so far.” You plopped down on the rough wooden bench that was fastened to the wall and put your face in your hands. Before you had the chance to speak again, he was beside you, an arm around you, and you laid over on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted beyond belief.

“Well, well, isn’t this sweet.” Your heart was suddenly in your throat as you looked up to see your jailer – at least, you assume that’s who he was – standing in front of the cell.

Dean’s jaw clenched as he stared defiantly at the filthy, leering man unlocking your cell door. “Yeah, we’re a little busy. Why don’t you make an appointment with the butler.”

The man grinned, flashing a mouthful of rotting, blackened teeth. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this. His Lordship’s got a few questions for you.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna answer?”

The man sneered in your direction, and you shrank back against Dean. “Well, I suppose we could start with her instead?”

Dean stood up, fists clenching. “You’ll start with me. And if I have anything to say about it, you’ll end with me, asshole.” He raised his chin, contempt in his eyes, and the guard’s smile, such as it was, faded.

“Move your arse, ya filth.” Dean turned to look at you one more time, his expression softening at the fear in your eyes.

“I’ll be back, sweetheart. Promise.”

“Then it’ll be your turn – sweetheart.” The foul bastard aimed his words at you, then shoved roughly at Dean as he marched him from the room. You sat there, stubbornly refusing to let the tears in your eyes overflow as you tried not to think about what they were going to do to Dean.

Time dragged by, and you busied yourself by searching your cell, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. You managed to wriggle an iron nail loose from the bench, but it was built to withstand prisoners much more hefty than you trying to break it apart. You slumped down, leaning your back against the wall as your brain spun in hopeless circles, trying to think of something that would get you home. Of course, the backpack containing the cursed object was now in your captor’s hands, which made things even worse, if that was possible.

You heard noises, some of them grunts of pain as the guard forced Dean back to the dungeon. As they came through the door, you rose to your feet, shocked, then furious as you saw him, his face and torso covered with cuts and bruises, caked with blood. Dean’s tormentor unlocked the door, shoving him roughly into the cell, where he collapsed as the iron bars swung shut once again. “Bastard!” you screamed at the man’s retreating back, and his laughter echoed back as he left without a word. “Dean! Oh, my god, Dean…” You ripped off a section of what used to be the skirt of your dress, going to your knees beside him on the floor. You helped him get his head to your lap, dabbing carefully at the blood oozing from his many wounds.

“I’m okay, Y/N,” he managed to whisper. He forced out a parched laugh. “These assholes got nothin’ on Alastair.”

“Oh, Dean… And we can’t even accidentally wish ourselves out of here, they’ve got the backpack.”

“Yeah. But now I know where it is. We just need to break out of here and get it, then we’ll pick somewhere nice and sunny, maybe a beach, someplace that serves cold drinks...”

“Can you get up? We should get you off the floor.” He looked up at you, a crooked smile lifting one side of his mouth, managing to look rakish in spite of his swollen right eye.

“Pretty comfy right here, actually.” You leaned down and kissed him gently, carefully, and when you lifted your head, you realized what you had done. Dean’s one open eye blinked slowly, fixed on you, and you shoved your hair out of your face, suddenly nervous.

“I have a nail.” You reached down into the top of your dress, where you had hidden it, and pulled it out to show him. “From the bench. Maybe we can pick the lock?”

Dean smiled, or winced, maybe both – it was hard to tell. “That’s my girl.”

After several minutes’ struggle, you had Dean sitting on the bench, propped up against the wall. You moved away from him reluctantly, wishing you could do more for his injuries. You began to work at the lock with your scavenged nail, difficult since it was just a hair too short, but as you were ready to drop to the floor in exhausted frustration, it gave with a loud click. “Dean,” you said softly, “it worked.”

He nodded, sending what passed for a smile your way, his face drawn and pale. “Good. Let’s get the hell out of here.” You opened the door slowly, sighing with relief when you could make your way through without much noise. You and Dean quickly searched for whatever you could use as weapons, but there wasn’t much to find. Dean had an iron bar of some kind, and you picked up a scrap of board, keeping your nail in your hand as well. “This way,” Dean whispered, and you followed, your heart pounding in your chest.

You made your way down a long, dark hall, the floor almost slimy beneath your feet, and you almost ran into Dean as he came to a sudden halt in front of you. He put his hand behind him, and you gave it a squeeze, following close behind as he crept forward. You could see the lone guard, slumped asleep in his chair, as you entered the room. Dean nodded towards the corner nearest you, and you moved slowly to where the backpack dangled from a hook in the wall. As you moved back to Dean, backpack in hand, the guard stirred, then jumped to his feet, shouting. “Help! Prisoners escaping!”

Dean reached for you, jerking you close, his arm tight around your waist. “No shit, Sherlock!” he yelled, and the confused guard faded into swirling black.

***

When your head stopped spinning, a bemused Dr. Watson was helping you from the floor. “Ah. Our visitors have returned.” He smiled a little stiffly at you as he helped you to the sofa, then turned to look at Dean. “Holmes is out at the moment. But you look as if you may need a little medical attention? May I… help?”

“I’m fine,” Dean answered as you said simultaneously, “Thank you!” Dean scowled at you, but you stared back at him, unflinching. “I wasn’t able to even clean his wounds, Dr. If you could help him...”

“Of course. Please, come with me, Mr…. Winchester, was it?”

You sat perched on the sofa, on the edge of exhaustion and despair. At least Dean had known how to get you to safety, but how the hell were you going to get home? You had no idea how long you sat there, deep in thought, before Dr. Watson’s voice startled you.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I just, umm – Mr. Winchester is resting in the bedroom, and he asked to see you. I did what I could for him, cleaned and bandaged the worst of his wounds. He’ll recover nicely, I assure you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Thank you so much.” He nodded a little self-consciously, smiling, and you stood. “I’ll just go check on him, then.”

“You should rest, too.”

You looked at the kind-hearted man over your shoulder, sending a grateful smile his way, then left the room. The bedroom was just down the hall, and you rapped quietly on the door before opening it and stepping inside. Dean was lying on the bed, bandages wrapped around his chest, belly and both arms. “This is ridiculous. If I was at home, I’d put in a few stitches and be done instead of walking around like a fucking mummy.”

You couldn’t help but smile, and his lips curved in spite of himself, even though he rolled his eyes. “Well, they just don’t have suture kits lying around like we do, Dean. At least you’re not gonna die of some nasty infection.” You sigh, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “He said I should get some rest. Mind if I join you? Maybe we’ll dream a way out of this mess.”

He patted the bed beside him. “Yeah, come on in. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

You nodded, then laid down next to him. “Me, too.” The last thing you remembered before drifting off was Dean’s fingers lacing through yours.

When you woke some time later, you found yourself cuddled up against Dean’s side, his arm around you. You lifted your head a little to find him looking at you. “Hey. Glad you got some sleep.”

You tried to move, but he didn’t budge, keeping you close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… Doesn’t this hurt? Having me so close?”

He was still looking at you, and he gnawed on his lip a little before he answered. “It kinda hurt not having you close. So...” You stopped breathing for a moment, not sure of how to respond, and you could feel your cheeks grow warm. “I just mean… I don’t wanna lose you. I didn’t want something to happen, and have us in some strange place, but not together.” His jaw clenched a little as he hesitated, but you waited patiently for him to finish. “When we get home… I don’t want to lose you when we get home.”

“Dean, you won’t lose me.”

“I want to keep you close. I want you to stay. I want you to stay with me. And Sam.”

“Dean, I was staying with you and Sam.”

“I want us to be together, okay?” He turned his head away from you for a moment, then looked back into your eyes. “I want you and I to be more than just...” You looked back at him, speechless for the moment, and he leaned in. His lips were gentle against yours, and you felt yourself melting into him as his hand moved to your waist, then around to your back. He froze, then pulled back a little, his eyes narrowing in a confused expression as his hand explored further. “You slept with the backpack?”

“What? I didn’t want one of us to pop off with some smart-ass remark and end up in a different world, alone.”

His grin started off small, growing with each second, and he leaned back close to kiss you again. “Wouldn’t want that,” he said between nibbles, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip before he backed away, his eyes shining. “I need to get you home, the sooner the better.”

“Look, just because a girl lets you kiss her doesn’t necessarily mean she’s going home with you, Slick,” you smarted off with a grin, gasping a split second later when you felt the room spinning. “Not again!” you shouted, your voice echoing as you clutched at each other, the room fading from your sight.

***

When your head stopped whirling, you opened your eyes, afraid to look. But what you saw made you inhale sharply, sitting up as Dean struggled to do the same beside you. Dean’s weapons were displayed on the wall, his headphones on the bedside table, a plaid flannel shirt tossed over the back of a chair. “Dean! We’re...”  

“Don’t talk. Give me the backpack and don’t say anything yet.” He grabbed it from you and jumped up from his bed, sprinting from the room as you stared after him, too stunned to move. You recovered quickly and hurried to follow him, hearing a commotion in the storage room by the dungeon. You skidded to a stop as you entered, watching as he stuffed the entire backpack into a trunk with sigils covering its wooden surface. He slammed it shut, put the padlock through the hasp and closed it, then let out a huge sigh, visibly relaxing as you came closer.

“We made it. Oh, my god – we have to call Sam! He’s probably frantic,” you said, still panting from your run through the halls. Dean nodded, grabbing his phone from his pocket and dialing. “Sam – you’re not gonna believe this one. But we’re home, at the bunker. So head this way, the cursed whatever it was is locked down safe.”

“Are you okay? Y/N, is she okay?” You could hear Sam’s worried voice from where you stood, and it made you smile.

“Yeah. We’re fine, we’re good now. Just come home, we’ll explain when you get here.” Dean stuffed the phone back into his pocket and turned to face you. “So…  

You took a step back. “So… I’m going to take a shower. I’ve been in, I don’t know, several worlds now, and – I need a shower.”

Dean was advancing on you at the same pace that you were backpedaling, determination on his smiling face. “Fine. You do that, and then I’ll do that. And then...”

“Then, what?”

“Then we’re gonna get back to where we left off. After all, you did come home with me.” You giggled as you took off down the hall.

“Hope you brought that anaconda home with you!”

(That last line is dedicated to @salvachester & @misswhizzy - you know why!)

@saenalife    @salvachester    @misswhizzy    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid    @aprofoundbondwithdean    @mamapeterson    @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @jessica-bones-winchester    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess    @deangirl96    @iamflanneltrash    @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451    @juliaspnlover    @lovin-ackles    @spectaculacular-sammy    @dyingforlove1992    @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean   @avasmommy224        @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @angelofwinchester17    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm    @purplecocopops    @feelmyroarrrr    @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie    @tanithlowisabamf    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic    @kreweofimp    @deansbaekaz2y5    @trippleberrydeanpie    @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma    @ioanashalala    @jencharlan      @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1    @hamartiamacguffin    @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester    @torn-and-frayed    @sandlee44   @kathaswings   @evansrogerskitten

[lorilane33]

Annoying Dean

Summary: Dean tries to prove himself to you only to fall short

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Prompt:  “ I try very hard to be annoying. Don’t insult my ability to annoy.”

Word count: 1,044

Warnings: Utterly and completely fluffy!!

A/N: This little piece of me was written for @percywinchester27 ‘s PJO Quotes Challenge! I really enjoyed this one. :) LOVE YOU SO MUCH ANA!! Thanks for letting me participate! This is the first fic I’m posting in a while. I just have been so overtaken by work and stuff! I hope this is good. lol

Peeking slowly around the corner you keep an ear out for Dean. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re trying to keep your breathing even. He’s spent the last fifteen minutes playing cat and mouse with you and you are determined not to let him catch you. Not seeing him anywhere you round the corner, hugging the wall as you move along. Feet padding along the floors, you move quickly to the next hallway hoping to beat Dean back to the kitchen.

You smile as an idea forms in your head. Knowing him, he’s fully expecting you to keep working your way in the direction you’re going, so you thought it would be a good idea to backtrack to confuse him. Thinking you had outsmarted the one and only Dean Winchester you chuckle to yourself and you turn back, heading towards the library. A sense of accomplishment settles over you and you turn the last corner before you arrive at the library.

Suddenly you run face first into a solid wall of flannel. “BOO!” Dean screams in your face as he jumps at you, throwing his hands up.

“Oh hey, Dean!” You respond as the green-eyed hunter reaches out to wrap his arms around your torso. Before his hands can make contact though, you burst out laughing and take off running through the halls, your laugh echoing throughout the bunker. You are the type of person that your go-to reaction for most everything is to giggle or, in this case, laugh uncontrollably.

The sounds of your feet slapping the concrete echo off the walls as you make your way to the kitchen, still laughing. Dean is right behind you but almost plows into Sam as he turns the corner. Sam looks at Dean and lifts his eyebrow with a smirk on his face effectively filling the doorway so Dean can’t continue his quest.

“Sam, what the hell! What are you- Move!” Dean tries to push past Sam but to no avail.

Smiling, Sam responds. “Hey, Dean. So, I’ve been meaning to ask you for your help rearranging the library. I was hoping to arrange them by subject and then by the book height. That was it’ll be easier just to grab something off the shelf and not have to worry about author’s names and stuff.”

As soon as the words ‘ask for your help’ pass Sam’s lips, Dean’s face settles into a bitch face, fully aware that Sam is trying to distract him. Sam continues on, and Dean suddenly cuts him off with a growl.

“Shut your face, Sam. And move it!! I’ve gotta find Y/n, and you’re in my way,” Dean rolls his eyes as Sam chuckles, taking his time in moving out of Dean’s way. As soon as Sam was out of his way Dean jets down the hallway, Sam calling after him.

“You won’t have too much trouble finding her; just listen for her laugh!”

Dean finally appears in the kitchen doorway ready to find you. He’s been trying to prove to you that he can scare you for the past few days and he’s been unsuccessful resulting in frustration on his end.

He hears you let out a soft giggle as he walks closer to the island, your hands shaking nervously as he almost finds you out.

“Babe, I know you’re in here. I could hear you laughing. Now, how about you come out and we can discuss this like the adults we are, huh?” He chuckles as he finishes and looks around.

Slowly, you surrender yourself rising from the floor and peeking your head over the counter. “Hey-o, Dean bean, “ you smile cheekily as you hide another small giggle.

“Hey, Y/n. So, you do realize that your laughing when I scare you is wrong on so many levels, right? I annoy the shit out of Sam, and have for years.” He walks over to you slowly and puts his arm around your shoulder. The two of you lean against the island and he looks at you, playfully glaring.

You glare right back at his stupidly handsome face. “Yes, I realize that Dean. But you have to remember. I don’t get scared or annoyed very easily. You try so hard to get to me, and it’s so cute. I can’t help but laugh!”

Dean takes his free hand and slaps his chest in mock offense while gasping dramatically. “Y/n! I can’t believe you. I try very hard to be annoying. Don’t insult my ability to annoy.”

You reach up and pat his cheek lightly, leaning up to place a kiss on his opposite cheek. Pulling back you smile cheekily. “Awww, Dean. You’re right. You’re so annoying that it drives me insane sometimes. Is that better?”

Rolling his eyes Dean responds. “No. You’re just lying now. I don’t wanna hear it. I annoy. I’m good at annoying.”

Sam chooses that moment to walk in and hears the tail end of Dean’s claim. Nodding his head, Sam agrees. “He’s right, Y/n. He’s annoyed me for years. Pisses me off, even.”

You see Dean smirking in triumph out of the corner of your eye as Sam continues. He chuckles when he sees you roll your eyes in response. Sam continues on.

“But I will say that good ole ‘Dean bean’ has had some performance issues since you showed up. He’s gone soft. He no longer annoys me as badly as he used to, and I think it has something to do with you. He’s nice to you. There’s just something about you that renders Dean unable to be a complete asshole anymore.”

By this time Dean’s eyes are the size of dinner plates and before Sam can react Dean is pulling his arm from around you and starting after Sam. Sam turns tail and runs as soon as he realizes what’s happening, using the tables in the library as obstacles to keep between himself and Dean. You hear two sets of boots running throughout the bunker and you giggle to yourself. Sam and Dean are your favorite boys, and these moments with them are precious.

Suddenly you hear Dean’s voice ringing throughout the bunker, “SAMUEL WINCHESTER, DON’T MAKE ME USE THE CLIPPERS! I KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP!!!!”

TAGS:  @bringmesomepie56 @aorma22 @torrentmgc @savetheimpalaridedean @vaisabu @madithemagicalfangirl @dancingalone21 @anokhi07 @green-love-red-fantasyhearts @smoothdogsgirl @superromijn @my-own-paradise-fuckers @wevegotworktodo @i-dont-know-how-to-write @rattyretro-blog-blog @arryn-nyxx @sis-tafics @jalove-wecallhimdean @dustycelt @supernatural-jackles @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @27bmm @pinknerdpanda @emilywritesaboutdean @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @babybrotherdean @babypieandwhiskey @nichelle-my-belle @iwantthedean @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @ravengirl94 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @demondean-for-kingofhell @wantingtobekorra @saxxxology @akshi8278 @captainemwinchester @pie-not-cake-you-assbutt

[percywinchester27]

Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge

Guess who came up with a challenge? That’s right! Your little fangirl over here presents her very first challenge, with prompts based on quotes from Rick Riordan’s books (Mostly PJO).

For those who have read the books, y’all know how hilarious the prompts can be. For those who haven’t, take a look at the prompts anyway! They might interest you :)

ALSO I have NO IDEA how these prompts fit in so well with SPN-verse. It had me baffled too. Trust me!

Rules:

You don’t have to be following me, but it would be nice :)

The due date is December 10th. If you wanna pull out, or need an extension, please let me know a week before. I know life can get really unpredictable, so we can work it out.

The minimum word count is 500 words, and maximum is 7k.

Please use a “keep reading” option after the first 500 words or so. I insist upon this.

It has to be a reader insert or a general fic. You can write for both characters as well as RPF (J2M only and No wife hate). It can be canon or it can be an AU.

You can write a fluffy, angsty or even smutty fic should the prompt inspire you, but please try not to make it a super detailed PWP fic, it’s just not my thing.

It can be a one shot, drabble or start of a series only.

Mention in the Author's note that it is for my (@percywinchester27) “Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge” and the prompt you’ve chosen. Use the hashtag #Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge in the first 5 tags so I can track it.

If I don’t like the post within 2 days, please IM me a link. Tumblr likes to be mean sometimes and there’s every chance that I didn’t get the tag.

Only one prompt per person. If you’ve already posted one entry, you can come back for another prompt.

Lastly, HAVE FUN!!

Send an Ask stating the prompt number and a backup in case the first one is taken along with the pairing.

Full prompt list below the cut:

Dialogue Prompts (Only the pronouns can be tweaked in the prompts):

“Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die.” @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester Dean X Reader

“We're staying together," he promised. "You're not getting away from me. Never again.” @bringmesomepie56 Dean X Reader

“Lots of death, huh? Personally, I'm trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!” @luci-in-trenchcoats Dean X Reader

“Ever had a flying burrito hit you? Well, it's a deadly projectile, right up there with cannonballs and grenades.” @jessicawritessmut Jensen x reader

“I try not to think. It interferes with being nuts” @homeschooledonmyhands sister!reader

He forced his fists to unclench. "Look, lady, we're not going to go all Hunger Games on each other. Isn't going to happen.” @melonshino dean x reader

“Being a hero doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It just means that you’re brave enough to stand up and do what’s needed.” @nichelle-my-belle Dean X Reader

“Sugar and caffeine. My willpower crumbled.” @queencflair Dean X Reader

“Scrawny? Baby, I invented scrawny. Scrawny is the new sizzling hot.” @avengingandstuff   Steve Rogers X Reader

“Back in my day, we died all the time, and we liked it!” @drarina1737

“Catch that last episode of Doctor Who? Oh, right. You were trudging through the Pit of Eternal Damnation!” @dauntlessdiva Dean X Reader

“You can't choose your parentage. But you can choose your legacy.” @percussiongirl2017 sister!reader/ platonic!reader

“Everyone hates clowns," ------ said. "Even other clowns hate clowns.” @growningupgeek Sam X Reader

“You, sir, are a ray of sunshine. @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Dean X Reader

“I wake up every morning and think: You know what would be good today? Not dying.” @roxyspearing Dean X Reader

“Don't you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?''Um... no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.” @rizlow1 Dean X Reader

“I know, I'm an idiot!" he moaned. "A brilliant idiot, but still an idiot.”  @anticipate1003 gen fic

“That's what happens when it snows in Texas lady. It. Freaking. Melts.” @evil-spn-girl Jared X Reader

“Decapitation is not a healthy lifestyle choice.” @justanotherdeangirl Dean X Reader

“How come I never get invited on these violent trips?” @uniquewerewolfsuit Jared X Reader

“She didn’t want to sleep, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids turned to lead. “Hey, wake me for second watch. Don’t be a hero.”He gave her that smirk she’d come to love. “Who, me?”He kissed her, his lips parched and feverishly warm. “Sleep.” @torn-and-frayed Dean X Reader

“I gave her my deluxe I'll-Kill-You-Later stare.” @jayankles Jensen x reader

“You drool when you sleep.” @captainemwinchester Dean X reader

“Delaying death is one of my favorite hobbies” @boxywrites Alpha!Dean X Omega!Reader

“What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize.”  @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel Dean X reader

“Daddy will explain. Come, he is blowing up monsters.” @sea040561 Misha X Reader

“We'll have to work on your bunny phobia later.” @crispychrissy Dean X Reader

“Life is only precious because it ends, kid.” @summer-binging-spn  Dean X Reader

“Met them. Killed them. Got the T-shirt.”  @internationalfandomgirl  Sam X Reader

“The thing about plummetting downhill at fifty miles an hour on a snack platter - if you realize it's a bad idea when you're halfway down, it's too late.”  @iputthesininbuisness  Dean X Reader

“We’ve all got weaknesses. Me, for instance. I’m tragically funny and good-looking.” @imaginesforthose-wholovefandoms Dean X Reader

“I hate this plan,” I said. “Let’s do it.” @plaidstiel-wormstache Dean X Reader

“If I'm dead," he murmured. "Why does it hurt so much?” @grace-for-sale

“Oh, did you expect me to play fair?" Cupid laughed. "I am the god of love. I am never fair.” @mysupernaturalfics Dean X Reader

“With great power... comes need to take a nap. Wake me up later” @winchesterprincessbride Sam X Reader

“I try very hard to be annoying. Don’t insult my ability to annoy.” @captainradicalpassion Dean x Reader

“I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have too.” @deanssweatheart23  Dean X Reader

“I tried to think of something to say. Excuse me? Hello? Marry me? Anything would have done.” @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Jensen X Reader

“Clearly, the conversation is giving your two brain cells a serious workout.” @winchester-smut dean X reader

“I've seen a lot of brave things. But what you just did? That was maybe the bravest.” @supernatural-jackles Dean/ Jensen X Reader

Sentence prompts (If you wanna use these as dialogue prompt, go ahead! But you can’t tweak them except the pronouns):

41. It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one. @imweirdandobsessed Sam X Reader

42. Far, far below, red liquid bubbled. Blood? Lava? Evil ketchup? None of the possibilities were good. @sdavid09  Gabriel x Reader

43. When she kissed me, I had the feeling my brain was melting right through my body. @samwinjarpad Sam X Reader

44. She'd secretly had a crush on him since they were twelve years old. Last summer, she'd fallen for him hard. @secretlyfurrydragon Jensen X Reader AU

45. She grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, which effectively shut him up. @darcy-winters Dean X Reader

46. I gave the dwarves an arrogant look, like, Yeah, that’s right. I’ve got a talking disco sword and you don’t. @sdavid09 

47. The plan had three phases: dangerous, really dangerous and insanely dangerous.   @thebitterbookeater Peter Parker X Reader

48. Her hair is smoldering. Her face was smudged with soot. She had a cut on her arms, her dress was torn, and she was missing a boot. Beautiful.  @docharleythegeekqueen  Dean X Reader

49. Humor was a good way to hide the pain. @kas-not-cas Dean X Reader 

50. Myths are simply stories about truths we've forgotten. @justme-noonebutme

51. It was a crazy idea. But, as usual, that’s all he had. @acreativelydifferentlove  Dean X Reader

52. “It's okay,” he said. “We're together.” He didn't say you're okay, or we're alive. After all they'd been through over the last year, he knew that the most important thing was that they were together. She loved him for saying that.” @sams-bubblegum-bitch

53. She looked at me, like she was drinking in the fact that I was still here. And I realized I was doing the same thing. The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive. @ravengirl94 Dean X Reader

54. No one can hate you with more intensity than someone who used to love you. @mrspadalackles  Dean X Reader

55. He didn't think much of fates and prophecies, but he did believe in one thing: ------- and he were supposed to be together. @jotink78 Dean X Reader

*This is mostly for the SPN-verse. But should a prompt really speak to you, for Marvel or HP, feel free to IM me with your idea and fandom. If I read those, maybe we can work it out* 

Tagging folks off the top of my head who might be interested in participating and/ or signal boosting:

@sdavid09 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @grace-for-sale @kas-not-cas @blacktithe7 @mysupernaturalfics @feelmyroarrrr @melonberri @torn-and-frayed @bringmesomepie56 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @supernatural-jackles @mrswhozeewhatsis @mamapeterson @atc74 @jayankles @chelsea072498 @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @kittenofdoomage @winchesterprincessbride @iwantthedean @impalaimagining @impala-dreamer @luci-in-trenchcoats @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @deanssweetheart23 @ravengirl94 @jotink78 @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

[spnfanficpond]

Characters – Dean x Reader

Summary – Dean hopes he can manage to show you how he feels when words fail him.

Word Count – 3,524

Warnings – Pregnancy (is that a warning?)

A/N – This was written for @winchesterprincessbride’s Princess Bride Quotes Challenge AND for @percywinchester27‘s PJO Quotes Challenge. Jen’s quote was “You did something right.” / “I won’t let it go to my head.” and Ana’s quote was “He didn’t think much of fates and prophecies, but he did believe in one thing: ——- and he were supposed to be together.”

Thanks for hosting such amazing challenges ladies!  

[summer-binging-spn]

Masterlist

Send me requests please! If you wanna be tagged just ask! I promise I don’t bite. If one of the links is broken please shoot me an ask/message so I can fix that! Warnings are found within each fic, if there is something that I didn’t warn about that I should have, please let me know.

2017 Hiatus Masterlist (This has a little bit of everyone on it I just thought it’d be easier to add them as I posted them)

Castiel x Reader

No One is to Blame (My very first fic!)

Broken Wings (My entry for @bulletscrossbowpie’s SPN Music Quote Challenge)

Watching Them (My entry for @katymacsupernatural’s Gif Challenge)

Rumors (My entry for @casbabydontgoineedyou’s 1k challenge)

Bee (My entry for @helvonasche’s Fucking Hel Challenge)

A Prayer Away (My entry for @whispersandwhiskerburn’s 2k Challenge)

1,2,3,4 Series Masterlist

You Won? (Plus sized!reader)

Wraith Hunting (Plus sized!reader)

Floor Pillows (It’s super fluffy)

Heavy (angst, fluff, super long)

Gabriel x Reader

Time (My very first Gabriel fic! Also my entry for Cassie’s Classics Challenge)

Unfixable (My entry for @deathtonormalcy56′s birthday challenge)

Dean x Reader

Nothing is Helping (My very first Dean fic, it just sorta happened)

Beautiful (plus sized reader x Dean)

Family (platonic Dean x reader)

Black and Blue (Dean x Reader also my submission for @casbabydontgoineedyou’s 2k challenge)

Life’s Value (my submission for @percywinchester27′s Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge)

The Winner (submission for a challenge, angst, fluff)

Sam x Reader

Kiss it Away (Plus sized!Reader)

Lucifer x Reader

Gone (My very first Lucifer fic! Also my entry for @meganwinchester1999′s 300 followers challenge) I’ll Heal You (Fluffy Lucifer x Reader)

Bath Bomb (Fluff yes fluffy Lucifer x reader)

Chuck x Reader

Our Door is Open (sort of angsty sort of fluff)

Benny x Reader

For a While (flangst, entry for @sixtysevenandwhiskey’s Grand Budapest Motel)

Bad Day (depressed!reader, sweet Benny)

Sister!Reader fics

Burnt (First submission for  Bethany’s writing challenge)

Reading is Fun? (Second submission for Bethany’s writing challenge)

Wrong Cup (Third and final submission for Bethany’s writing challenge)

Flowers (Slightly angsty sister reader fic)

Other

Cold as Ice (Sam x reader and Lucifer x reader NOT SAMIFER, also my submission for @cas-is-my-hero’s 100 follower challenge)

Brown Eyes (no specified character, brown eyed reader)

Worried (Self harm fic, avoid this if it will trigger you! Platonic Winchesters x reader though)