#and his face is like a face of a ferocious animal and theres the spirit of it behind him. his soul

[horngryeyes]

i think its also kinda funny how i feel like i totally forgot claudia. like sorry shes too sad to think about. and theres a tall skinny guy with boyish looks and an ancient air about him and im back to sighing dreamily

[chucksfavouriteprophet]

The Cowgirl

Dean Winchester x Reader

Request by @blank-artistry : Hi! I was wondering if I could request a Dean x reader where the setting is like the Longest Ride?

A/N: God I haven't seen this film in forever, but I hope I kinda did it justice! I went a bit different with the reader as the bull rider, so I hope you don't mind, and I added a little smut at the end which is a first for me and I was pretty nervous to do but I just felt like it needed something hahaha. Also, I wrote this with the reader being a girl because I just found it a bit easier, but feel free to change this to suit you.

Warnings: Classic supernatural violence, Dean getting sassed, language and some smutty shit at the end

Word count: 3,949

Sam shook his head and laughed as he glanced at his brother. Dean was standing across from him, ogling himself in the mirror.

"C'mon Sammy, don't tell me these boots aren't the coolest things you've seen in the world? And this hat - man, North Carolina is awesome!"

Sam could tell this was going to be a long weekend. The gig was small, and pretty far fetched if he had to be honest. Bull riding was a dangerous sport - was it really something supernatural that killed those men on the same day every year in the ring, or was it just pure coincidence? In Dean's opinion, "it's never a coincidence", but Sam knew his big brother was just excited by the prospect of watching a proper rodeo event.

Still chuckling under his breath, Sam stood up and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Alright then cowboy, lets get this show on the road." They swiftly left the motel and made their way over to Baby, Sam not failing to notice Dean's newly-acquired swagger. He couldn't be mad - it was nice to see Dean in such high spirits when things had been so rough lately.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the rodeo event. It was a warm May Saturday afternoon, and the place was brimming with stetsons and plaid. God, this was practically Dean's wet dream. He parked up gleefully, hopping out and heading straight into the crowd.

"Sammy, you go see if theres anything weird around the stalls. Imma go check out the ring." Before Sam could even reply, Dean was off, skipping towards the main event. The ring was in the centre of the fair, with staggered seats running all the way around the edge. As he approached, a rowdy bull was getting loaded in, grunting as it resisted against those trying to tame it. From that angle, Dean couldn't tell who was about to ride it, but he made his way round the arena and settled in an empty seat just adjacent to the gate.

Seconds later, a buzzer sounded, the gate flew open, and the bull came tumbling out. It instantly whipped round, bucking ferociously in a desperate attempt to kick its rider off. But you didn't budge. In fact, you swayed with the animal's movements, as though you were part of him. You kept your head down so Dean couldn't see your face, but your shiny y/h/c hair flew across your shoulders under the brown suede hat you wore. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Those eight seconds were the shortest of his life; the buzzer sounded once again and you hopped off the bull, giving the elated crowd a wave before heading back out the gate.

"Er Dean? You find anything? Or were you just enjoying the show?" Sam hovered behind him, looking down smugly.

"Huh? Oh, er, yeah. I mean no. Hey, can't a guy just enjoy himself for a few seconds?" Dean was flustered slightly as he stood up and cleared his throat. "I'm telling you man, that's some crazy sport. Did you see that gal? She - she was awesome!"

Sam nodded, "yeah man, I saw. Pretty cool. Also stupidly dangerous." Dean frowned. "Well yeah, but hell, our job is pretty dangerous too. We can't judge." Sam gave him a small smile. "Yeah, yeah you're right. Anyway, lets keep scanning for EMF for a bit, see if we can figure this thing out."

-

The Winchesters walked the perimeter of the fair three times, and Dean managed to watch at least another five rodeos in the ring. By the time it started getting dark and the event started closing up, neither of them had found any sign of a haunt.

"C'mon man, I think it's time we called it a day. Theres nothing here." Sam was tired and was dreaming of his bed, even if it was a grubby little motel one half his size. Reluctantly, Dean agreed, but refused to leave until be bought a mega hot dog with some secret sauce trademarked by the town. He was tired too, and although the day had been fun, he was looking forward to heading back and dreaming of the badass girl in the ring from earlier.

Still, he couldn't sleep. There was something that bugged him about the case - yes, rodeo accidents were common, especially when so many events were going on in the Spring season. But ten deaths, one each year for the past ten years, all on the same day, in the same ring? If that wasn't suspicious enough, the circumstances had to be. None of the deaths had happened during a ride - the bodies had all been found in the ring, mutilated by a bull, in the early hours of the morning. They'd occurred during the night, when no one was around, and when all the animals were back in their respective barns and trailers. It didn't make any sense.

After a few hours of searching, Dean found something. It wasn't the sort of thing that would usually have caught his eye, except for the fact that the article below was about a wonderfully busted actress which had drawn in his attention.

"Sam. Sam, wake up!" Dean shook his brother, waving the paper in his face.

Sam groaned and rubbed his eyes. "You're still up? The hell's going on Dean?" He pushed himself to sit up and squinted at the article Dean excited thrust towards him.

"It's not the spirit of a person we're looking for. It's the spirit of a bull." Dean's eyes were wide with satisfaction.

"A-a bull?" Sam wasn't quite awake and looked at his brother questioningly.

"Yeah, man, a bull! See here, eleven years to this day, May 5th, 1997, this bull rider right, it was his last ride, he was a sure thing, fan favourite to win. The competition was rigged, so he knew which bull he was gonna get, and he'd practiced on him for weeks. Dude was gonna make history."

Sam nodded, wondering when Dean was going to get to the point.

"But it went wrong, see? He'd trained the bull to swing left, then right, then right again. He'd like choreographed the moves and all, so he was ready to move even before the bull did. But instead of going right a second time, the bull went left, right, and then left. But his rider, he swung right. Fell straight off on the seventh second. Lost the championship by the skin of his teeth."

"Did he die?" Sam ran a hand through his hair.

"No no, see, he was fine. Mad as hell, but fine. Stormed out the arena and didn't return. Except that evening, he snuck the bull out the trailer and set it loose in the ring. Went wild on it, whipping it and throwing beer bottles at it, making it tear round for hours until it died of exhaustion. Then he upped and left, and the cleaners found the bull's body in the ring the next morning."

Sam was already packing his bag. "So it's the bull that haunts the ring every year. Tries to get revenge for what the rider did to it." Dean nodded. "And guess what? Estimated cause of death of the bull - 1.39am."

Sam froze. "That's the same time each of those people were estimated to have died too." Dean nodded. "Oh, and Sam. What time is it now?"

"1am..."

-

The fair was pitch black when they arrived. No one was around, and the purring of Baby was the only sound to be heard. The boys tiptoed hesitantly around the stalls until a light caught Sam's eye.

"Dean. There. Look." He pointed in the direction of the ring where a torch was being shone. They heard the gate squeak open and the flood lights jolted on, causing the brothers to wince slightly. Once the coast seemed clear, they quietly made their way across the field and round the back of the ring into the stands.

"Ahh shit," Dean groaned once he saw who was in the ring. He would always be able to recognise the way those y/h/c/ locks shimmied from under that dusty stetson.

"What?" Sam frowned, peering round to get a better look.

"That's the girl from earlier. We gotta get her outta here Sam." Before Dean could move, a voice halted him in place.

"Hey! Up there! Yeah, I'm talking to you two creeps!" You’d spotted them. Hands in pockets, you started walking across the dirt and stared up at them.

"Oh, er, hi, ma'am." Sam stood up slowly, cracking a smile. "Sorry, we didn't mean to bother you or anything but..."

"But if you don't leave right now you're gonna die." Dean swallowed down the words as he felt Sam's eyes burn into the back of his head.

You just laughed. "Die? What, you two dorks gonna try kill me or something?" Sam nudged Dean roughly, giving him a glare before he stepped forward.

"No, no of course not. But er, it's just, it's hard to explain. But every year, on this night, someone dies in this ring. So if you could just, you know, leave, that would be great!"

You’d reached the fence now and leapt up, the shake making the brothers jump slightly. You climbed up with ease until you reached the top and hung your head over, grinning down at them.

"Honey, this is a bull riding ring. People die. It's unfortunate, but it happens. But I ain't gonna be one of them, okay?"

Sam and Dean shot each other a glance. Okay, so you were a stubborn one. "Look, I'm Dean, and this is my brother, Sam. We saw you ride earlier and, I don't know, I-we, thought you were cool. What's your name?"

You scoffed and shook your head. "Y/N. Which, if you had actually watched me ride properly, you'd already know." They knew you had a point.

"Alright then, Y/N, you got us there. But seriously, you need to get out the ring before you get run down by some mad angry steak." Dean gave you a cheeky grin, hoping his charm might help slightly. It didn't.

"Man, it's the middle of the night. I ain't bringing no bull in here without back up, I'm not insane. I'm just scouting out the ring, getting my bearings before the finals tomorrow."

"It doesn't matter." Sam looked at you with such a serious look, it kinda creeped you out. "The bull that's gonna get in here, it'll do so on its own. Its name is Rampant Thunder."

You shook your head. "No, no Rampant Thunder is dead. Everyone knows that story, his jerk of a rider murdered him because he lost a gig years back." You threw yourself over the fence and stormed towards the boys, your face a myriad of emotions.

"We know," Dean said solemnly. "It was this day, this night, 11 years ago. And every year, on the anniversary of his death, he kills someone, in this very ring. And tonight, that's gonna be you unless you do what we say, and get the hell out of here."

You couldn't believe your ears. Who the hell were these guys? You knew people died here more often than in other rings, but hell, this was redneck country and all sorts of crazy shit happened around here. But there was something about their faces that made you question your instincts. The tall one, Sam, looked anxious, constantly glancing around him. You hadn't failed to notice the gun he gripped tightly behind his back. And as for the cute one, Dean. You had seen him earlier, when you were riding. Every time you got on a bull, you found someone in the crowd to latch onto. This time, it had been him, and you’d enjoyed catching those ocean green eyes for those eight seconds. Dean looked downright scared right now, and you could tell that wasn't an emotion he felt often.

"Look, it's getting late anyway. It's gone 1.30am, I ought to be getting going. And not because of some crazy ghost bull you two keep going on about, but because I need my beauty sleep, alright?" The boys seemed content with that answer and stepped aside, making way for you to make your way back out the gate onto the main field. They gave each other a look of relief as Sam nodded towards his watch, hovering at 1.39am. They were in the clear.

Except they weren't. With a few seconds gain on the Winchesters, you started to hurry back towards your car before you froze.

"Hey, Y/N. You alright?" Dean took a quick look around him in the darkness.

"Er, yeah. Sorry, I just thought I heard something. Ignore me, I've been hanging around cows too long, sometimes I can hear them mooing in my damn head!" You chuckled, but it was clearly one of anxiety.

"It's not in your head." Sam breathed. The three of you stood incredibly still as you heard the roar of a cow to your right, followed by the stamping of hooves.

"Y/N. Run!" Dean hollered as he spun round, pulling his gun out in the direction of the the sound. In the darkness he couldn't see a thing except the grey misting of breath some meters away.

You legged it as fast as you could towards the stalls, crouching behind one to find your breath when you felt your were far enough away. What the hell was going on? A fucking ghost bull? This was ridiculous.

But of course, it wasn't. Not when you could feel the warm breath against your ear and felt the bull's saliva drip onto your shoulder. You turned your head slowly, but there was nothing there. Nothing visible, at least. But it was there alright.

Your piercing scream sent Sam and Dean running, weaving between stands, guns at the ready. You were crouched in a ball, rolled up tightly against the corner of a candyfloss stall. Sam fired to your left, the rocksalt penetrating the invisible animal and sending it up in smoke. Dean ran forward, reaching out to you.

"You okay?" You nodded, then shook your head strongly. "No I'm not damn okay, a fricking ghost bull just tried to kill me!" Dean couldn't help but smile at your abruptness. "Yeah, takes a while to get over that stuff." He didn't even realise that you had shifted position to curl into his arms, tucking your head into his shoulder. "Is it dead? Or gone, or whatever?" You peered up at him.

"No," Sam said, reloading his gun. "Rocksalt just blasts it. But it'll be back, and you're it's target. We've gotta get you out of here now."

Dean stood up, helping you to your feet and starting to guide you towards the lot behind Sam, who was poised and ready with the gun.

"Wait." You tugged at Dean's jacket and caught his eyes despairingly. "You said this thing comes back ever year, right? And every year, it kills someone because of the way it was killed?"

Dean nodded frantically, "yeah, that's why we gotta go!" But your feet were planted and you weren’t going anywhere. "That poor animal didn't deserve to die, especially not like that. He was totally abused, and left to die all alone. He was probably terrified. Look, I don't know much about this ghost shit, but surely he's haunting this place for a reason? Can't we free him or something?"

The Winchesters glanced at each other. Damn, you were testing their morality. But you were right. If they just left, the bull would come back year after year, killing innocent people. They came here to stop it, and that's what they had to do.

"Maybe, but it depends. It's an animal, so there won't be any records of where the body is buried and burning the bones is usually the best way to free a spirit. And if it's revenge the bull is killing for, that's pretty much hopeless because we can't just kill a man because he killed an animal, as much as I'd love to." Sam shrugged, stumped for thought.

"What if it's not revenge?" you questioned. "These animals, sometimes they go through horrendous treatment. I mean, we ride them for all of eight seconds, right, just letting them go feral trying to buck us off because clearly they hate it. So, what if it's not revenge he wants. What if he just wants out?"

Dean nodded, glancing back and forth between the two of you. "The guy that killed him. He was never punished, right?"

Sam shook his head. "No, the guy ran off and they never heard from him again. No one went after him."

Dean turned to look at you, staring you straight in the eye. "You're right. He's trapped here. He's got no closure, and he can't leave this place. He's only killing people out of fear, not revenge. We have to free him."

At that very moment, there was an almighty crash as a stall to your left shattered into pieces. Hooves thudded on the grass, growing louder by the second.

"So how the hell do we do that?!" You shouted, gripping Dean's arms tight.

"We get him over the threshold, that's what we do."

In a split second, he wrapped his arm round your back, propelling you forward towards the fair exit. The three of you ran like hell, the bull close on their heels. You could feel his horns brush your back as you stumbled over the threshold, falling to your knees with a yelp. You braced yourself for impact, squeezing your eyes tight. But there was nothing. Nothing but the slight 'poof' behind you. You spun around just in time to see smoke drift up and away, threading itself around the entrance sign and floating off into the night sky.

Sam looked round to see you being embraced tightly by his brother. "How - how did you know that would work?" You stammered. "I wasn't sure it would," Dean chuckled. "But I figured every death happened in the ring. He never had a reason to leave it. But if he needed to chase you outside, if he needed to follow you away from the scene of the crime, outside the boundary even, it might give his spirit just enough of a push to let go and be set free."

Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He knew what was going to come next. "Maybe?! Christ sake, maybe?!" You shoved Dean with disbelief and Sam chuckled. "Good luck getting yourself out of this one, big brother." He slapped Dean's shoulder as he headed back towards the car, still chuckling at himself. Something told him Dean wouldn't be coming back to the motel just yet.

-

Naturally, Sam was right. Dean had figured the only way to stop you from going on a rant about how much of an idiot he had been for almost getting you killed was to seize you by the face and kiss you. It worked, of course. You couldn't deny that you’d wanted to do the same thing since he'd grabbed you from behind the candyfloss stand.

By the time you’d made it back to your car, all you were wearing was that sexy stetson and your Ariat boots. That was more than he had on, to be fair. Dean pushed you against the hood and you wrapped your legs around his waist eagerly, squeezing them tight. He kissed you all over and your hands wandered, first giving his peachy butt a good slap before reaching round between both your legs. By this point, his mouth was around your left nipple, sucking gently while his right hand caressed the other.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to do it with a cowgirl," he giggled as he took a breath. "Well, today's your lucky day, cowboy." You looked down at him and bit your lip as you grasped tightly onto his rock hard penis. Dean's head thrust up and he growled before softening into your grasp. Your hand moved methodically up and down, hitting all the right places at just the right speed. He couldn’t help but think if this was how she rode the bulls, they were damn lucky bulls.

Before long, Dean started to feel himself brewing. Quickly, he pulled you up further so that his face could burry itself in your dripping wet pussy. His tongue caressed you, taking it all in as your hand gripped his hair tight and moaned. Mosquitos buzzed around you, but neither took any notice. You were far too busy enjoying yourselves.

"Dean," you moaned, reaching down to tilt his head up. "Dean, come up here. Let's make it a tie." He did as he was told, moving up to lie next to you, replacing his mouth with his hand. Once again, you took hold of his penis, rubbing even harder this time. Quickly, you fell into a rhythm, your hands working their magic on each other while your lips intertwined, only parting to take a brief breath.

Neither had any idea how much time had passed, but the night was still as you locked eyes, feeling the energy catch its spark. You both exploded, coming into each other's hands at the exact same moment. It took a while for you to recover, both panting while laughing as you gazed into each other's eyes.

You sat like that, wrapped in each other's arms, for a few more hours as you watched the sun rise. At some point, you’d both gotten dressed, but Dean had made a point to steal your stetson and refused to take it off. As the first stallholders started to arrive, you stayed where you were, giggling like children at the funny looks shot at you. After a while, Dean was alerted by the familiar honk of Baby's horn, and the pair of you turned round to see Sam pull up a few yards away.

"Hey, Sam!" You yelled, giving him a wave. "Hey, Y/N. Glad to see you still alive and kicking. Oh, and thanks for keeping my brother preoccupied. Best night sleep I've had in weeks." He winked as Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, I gotta shoot." Dean stroked your hair softly. "More ghost cows calling, huh?" you giggled, planting a quick kiss on his lips. "Something like that. I'm sorry I can't stay to watch your ride."

You shook your head and crinkled your face. "Don't worry, you won't miss it. Just turn to the first page in the paper in the morning. I'll be the one who wins, if you're wondering where to look." He smiled down at you, reaching up to pass the hat back.

"Keep it. I've got plenty." You gave it a pat and adjusted the brim to fit on his head better. With one final kiss, Dean slipped off the car and headed over to his brother, who was already chuckling away.

"Keep that trap shut, boy, or you're riding shotgun for a year." Dean sauntered round to the passenger side, giving you one final nod as he climbed in. As Sam sped away, Dean flipped the hat off to run a hand through his tousled hair. He grinned when he saw the phone number scribbled on a scrap of paper tucked into the inside of the rim.

If one thing was for sure, Dean Winchester would never forget his rodeo with his cowgirl.

[razzlekitty]

S, F, T for the letter thing.

S: has the strongest spirit.

Darken skies made the day look like night, the snow falling on the blood stained slopes. Piling on the bodies that littered the ground, Horde, Alliance, and undead alike. The tower was still theirs, but only just. The more they slaughtered the more that came. Only a few survivors remained fighting the scourge in the forsaken lands of Northrend.

An orc that had been blinded, a dwarf to drunk to know better and a tauren too stubborn to die were among those still fighting. “You still breath, Bear?” The orc called to the bulky female kneeling beside him. A broken Nerubian leg sunk deep into her shoulder, her blood staining the white snow. Her arm useless, rendering the duel weapon wielder down to one sword.

She was beaten, bloodied and seemingly on her last moments. Ragged, rapid breaths blew through her bloody muzzle as her blonde mane tussled. Her lavender eyes narrowed on the death knight coming closer. She didn’t speak until he came close, thinking she was done he let his guard down. Suddenly an aura of light surrounded her and with a mighty roar, Bear swung her sword upwards. Cutting cleanly through the death knight. She snarled and swung down and cleaved into shambling zombies behind him.

“Just had to catch my breath.” She gasped. Her spirit too tough to give in.

F: is my favorite.

(THIS IS NOT A FAIR QUESTION.) Answering this OOC because it’ll be hard to explain. Dyzz is most certainly one of my faves. She evolved so much since I started playing her. From a timid naive girl to a savage blood thirsty beast trying to control her rage.

Then theres Brugran, my orc. He’s young and has so much to prove. He takes his job so seriously yet he’s always doubting himself. He also makes the worst romantic choices and it’s just a sad but hilarious train wreck that @flynneware and I love.

And from the ashes we have Bear, my Sunwalker paladin. A kind mothering soul whom always has a wise word to say. But like her name sake, is ferocious and relentless in battle.

T: is the most terrifying.

Bru never liked Sashrui’s cave and he made it a point to not go in but he could hear his boss Zari calling for him wintin. He sighed and made his way inside. The cave walls were lined with shrunken heads, fetishes, totems and drying herbs. Severed, dried animal parts hanging with bones, shells and feathers. Light bugs lit the way, buzzing aimlessly in their jar prisons.

As he entered he heard ethereal whispers, echoes in the cave. He came to see shelves of potions, vials and jars filled with questionable liquids and long dead creatures. An uneasy feeling hung around him and he rolled his shoulder trying to shrug it off. He walked in to see Sashrui, the zandalari with over a bubbling cauldron.

Vile purple mist seemed to snake around her hand and feet as she cast a spell. Her claws dug through the liquid like mist and it seemed to groan and slide from her finger tips. His eyes wide he looked at her as she faced away. Then he saw a mirror and her eyes were black as night. “Nope. Fuck that hooby jooby.” He said turning heel and walking back out the cave. “Bru!” Zari called after him. “She nah even castin’-”

“NOPE. DON’T CARE.” He said briskly walking out.