#and jared wore plaid

[hologramcowboy]

Seems like Jensen is switching up his look again at this con. He’s been wearing more kinda bougie expensive designer stuff lately (designer shirts, fitted jeans, etc) but this con he’s dressing more kinda down to earth slightly country look with loose fitting jeans, a t-shirt and plaid over shirt on Saturday (the plaid shirt is actually one Jared wore as Cordell on Walker just fyi) and Sunday he’s has baggier tan cargo pants and a t-shirt with a denim over shirt. Wonder what he’s working on now that had him switching his look back up again since we know he tends to dress somewhat like his characters (playboy shirts etc for SB, switched to sweaters etc for Beau, now this)

For whatever reason, his fashion fails make him endearing to me. It's like he wants to communicate through his clothing but something goes awry and the result is endearing to me for some reason.

Being on brand is one of the smart things he knows about but does not know how to apply successfully. He takes it into an over the top, calculated, predictable sphere because no one has taught him to get in touch with his essence. He lets the character define who he should be and then steps into that but fails to do it organically so it just comes off fake. Especially to a trained eye. I'm tired of seeing him try to be extra, I'd love to see him just be himself. That's what casting wants to see as well.

[kmp78]

Think about it. Jared wore those PJs with CB . He was touring Europe and didn't go back home. So, you all saying he's posting clothes to The Thingy.🤔🤣 Sure, he is. He's just back on US soil in months. I don't believe for all the tea in China, those were his PJs. I still don't believe the shirt is his either. Anyone can buy those plaid shirts. Sorry, but if he's having sex every 6mths with her when he visits NY. She's basically an escort. That's not gf material. If she were a gf, she'd be on tour with him lots. I call her a troll and a wannabee.

And if she was just a meaningless Stuuuuuck video modelita, she WOULD have been prancing up there on stage like every-fucking-one else. 💯

[youchangedmedean]

Why Dean’s Heaven Outfit is so Cursed

You may have seen my previous post about why Dean’s outfit in heaven is so cursed, but since then I have spotted even more.

According to Jared at the Virtual Con after 15x20 aired when asked ‘Were any lines added or ad libbed by you two [Jared and Jensen]?’ (starts at 29:28 timestamp)

... So, when we’re on that bridge and uh, and Dean says, “Heya Sammy” and then it cuts to Sam, and I’m dressed like, as best I could, like uh like the pilot with Dean, y’know. ...

So from this, we know that Sam on the bridge in 15x20 was supposed to be dressed like the pilot. I infer that Dean was also supposed to be dressed like the pilot but based on the wording it’s possible that’s not what he meant. As soon as we got BTS pics from the last day on set however, we all pointed out that they were dressed like the pilot but there is a difference.

So what did Dean wear in the pilot? He had on 2 different outfits. First a dark jacket and a red shirt.

After Dean gets covered in mud, he changes into a denim shirt and John’s leather jacket.

Another thing to note is that both Sam and Dean wear sneakers in the pilot. No boots for Dean.

So it looks like for Dean in 15x20, the heaven outfit is based on outfit 1 with the dark jacket, plain red shirt and jeans.

Dean consistently has plain red shirts through the seasons and continues to wear the dark jacket until 9x03 so I would bet that the very jacket was sitting in storage until s15.

Something to note is that while Sam is in a virtually identical outfit in 15x20 and the pilot, Dean is not. They must have had to source Sam’s outfit specifically for this. Sam does wear a hoodie and a beige jacket in later seasons so they could have built it out of Sam’s wardrobe but they chose not to. He does not wear these exact clothes at any other point in the series apart from in Heaven. Dean’s Heaven outfit is just made out of his clothing from later in the series. They both wore sneakers in the pilot but in Heaven Dean still has his boots while Sam is wearing sneakers.

Compare:

If I was building Dean’s heaven outfit out of later seasons outfits, I would have chosen his plain red shirt (note: this is not the Demon!Dean/MoC!Dean shirt, it is a different one).

By the later seasons, Dean doesn’t actually wear dark dark jackets much. His only black jacket in s15 was this denim one which he has had since 10x04:

But the wardrobe department decided not to go for these and instead decided on cursed items instead.

So what was Dean wearing in Heaven?

The Shirt

Now this shirt is just plain cursed. This is only seen at 2 other points in the whole series, and it was a new one for s15. 

We first see it in 15x04 Atomic Monsters for the Chuck AU where Lucifer!Sam kills Dean. Directed by Mr Jensen Ackles himself.

Thanks to him, we also get a good look at the shirt

So this is the first time we ever see this shirt and its for a Chuck AU where Sam kills Dean.

The second time we see it, its in 15x13 and this is another cursed appearance. It is worn by Huntercorp!Dean while pretending to be our Dean in the bunker.

And why was Huntercorp!Dean there at all? Because Chuck was destroying worlds.

When AU!Dean leaves the bunker, there is an exchange that is a bit cursed.

Huntercorp!DEAN: Oh, uh, you think we could keep the flannel shirts?

DEAN: No.

So the shirt actually gets a mention by Huntercorp!Dean.

What we see here is that this shirt is NEVER worn by our Dean. It is worn by a Chuck AU Dean and Huntercorp!Dean fleeing a world Chuck had destroyed while pretending to be our Dean.

We never see our Dean wear this shit until Heaven which seems like an odd choice.

Dean also doesn’t normally wear red and black plaid shirt. In fact, the previous one he had has an interesting history as pointed out by @wigglebox​ when we were discussing it.

It is first seen in 12x21 and he continues to wear it into 12x23 when Dean has to go into Mary’s mind.

We then see it again and for the last time in 13x16 Scoobynatural.

Both of these episodes are sort of AU episodes where he’s venturing into another character’s mind or heading into Scooby-Doo world.

So both Dean’s black and red plaid shirts have a cursed history relating things not being real and for this specific shirt, AUs. They could have chosen a plain red shirt almost identical to the pilot but they chose not to.

The Jacket

Dean has this jacket for a long time. He has a blue one and a black one. This black jacket has been around since s9 and gets worn a fair bit. On the whole, it doesn’t have a very happy history, its first worn for Kevin’s funeral in 9x10 and is worn after Claire is bitten by a Werewolf in 12x16.

However, the most notable thing about this jacket is what should have been it’s demise.

Dean is wearing it in 13x23 when he fights Lucifer and AU!Michael takes over his body.

At the end of the episode, we see that Michael has changed dean’s clothes and presumably ditched them somewhere.

Dean comes back at the end of 14x02 wearing Michael’s clothes. He arrives back at the bunker in 14x03 and changes into Dean clothes but is missing his watch for the whole episode, presumably because Michael ditched it. The denim shirt Dean wears in 13x23 is never seen again (yes, I have watched s14 and s15 just to check and have spreadsheets for Dean’s outfits!). His boots are back in 14x03 but I suppose you could argue he had multiple pairs.

We are left to assume that the jacket is also gone (and it really should be gone) but it makes a miraculous reappearance in 14x13 Lebanon.

Now this episode is an odd episode. They get their Dad back by messing up time, Cas doesn’t know them until they reset it back again. The shirt in this episode is also notable and I will write a post on it soon. So again, we have part of Dean’s heaven outfit connecting to alternative timelines where it really shouldn’t be at all.

BUT IT GETS WORSE EVERYONE!

This jacket appears at just one other point in s15. Now if you had to pick the most cursed of cursed times to put it where would you put it on Dean?

The Vamp Chuck future in 15x09 where Sam and Dean die as vampires.

So this jacket should have disappeared in 13x23 but reappears for an episode where time is altered in 14x13 and when Chuck is showing Sam the future in 15x09 if they ‘win’ and they die as vampires. Dean is then killed on a vampire hunt in 15x20 and ends up wearing this jacket in Heaven. Cool, cool.

This jacket becomes connected to our Dean but in altered timelines and worlds while the shirt is connected to alternative Deans. Both the shirt and the jacket have direct connections to Chuck.

So we see Dean in Heaven wearing this cursed outfit drinking cursed El Sol beer with the same cursed monkey from 14x13 Lebanon (see above, it was in the roadhouse too).

This is not an outfit that screams happy. This is not an outfit that screams Sam and Dean won. This is an outfit that seems to scream Chuck won. 

I guess we’ll just have to wait until Jackles manages to get a continuation...

One final odd thing to note. We all remember Jensen’s video posted before the finale when he was dressing up as Dean for the last time “at least for now”. Well he wasn’t actually wearing the outfit Dean wore in Heaven although all the Heaven scenes were shot on the last day of filming, the 10th of September.

He was wearing the Heaven plaid shirt, but not the Heaven Jacket. It was Dean’s black denim jacket I pointed out earlier. If you look it has seams that the Heaven Jacket doesn’t and the pocket flaps are a different shape.

I have gone through all the Heaven scenes and he is wearing the Heaven jacket in all of them. But I can’t think of a reason why on a hot day in September when Jensen is getting changed into costume he would have a different one of Dean’s jackets on over the shirt he needs to wear for the scenes.

[katymacsupernatural]

Not My Reality Final

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Story Summary: Y/N wakes up in a nightmare. Is it her new reality, or can she figure out how to fix it. How can she get pack to her husband Jensen?

Catch Up Here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Rain began to fall about two hours outside of Lawrence. Heavy, torrential rain quickly covered the road and made it hard to see. The SUV’s windshield wipers could barely keep up with the downpour. 

Everyone was quiet in the vehicle while Jensen’s full focus was keeping the SUV on the road. Lightning flashed in the sky, lighting up the surrounding landscape quickly before turning pitch black once again. Thunder quickly followed, loud enough to shake the glass windows.

“I’m not sure if we should keep going,” Jensen muttered, his shoulders tense, his energy drink forgotten beside him as he fought to keep the SUV from sliding off the road. “This storm is ridiculous.”

As much as you wanted to keep going, you had to agree with him. This storm was dangerous, and it wasn’t worth putting you at risk. But you had no idea where you were exactly, or if there was anywhere safe enough to pull over. 

“Any idea where we are?” Jared asked, holding his phone up. “I’ve got no service.”

Jensen tossed his phone to Jared, who shook his head. “No service. No idea where we are. I guess we just go slow.” 

He had the SUV going at a snail’s pace, but it still fishtailed on the flooded road. Lightning flashed over the car, thunder immediately following. This was the worst storm you had ever been in, and you couldn’t help but be a little scared.

Jensen was a talented driver, but you could tell this storm was affecting him also. His jaw was clenched as he glanced over to Jared again. “How far away from Lawrence do you think we are?”

For a moment, it felt as if you were once again back in an episode of Supernatural. Jensen manning the steering wheel as Dean, Jared giving directions, sitting in the passenger seat. Your character, in her spot in the backseat. If only this was the Impala and not the SUV.

“I have no idea. Maybe half an hour or so.” Jared didn’t seem very convinced about his answer.

The air inside and out of the SUV was charged with electricity. The hair on your arms stood straight up, your heart starting to race. Your vision started to blur, and you called out to Jensen, not liking what was going on. “Jensen, please,” you pleaded, feeling as if your heart wanted to beat right out of your chest.

“Y/N, I’m a little busy keeping us on the road. Can’t it wait,” he muttered, not even glancing back. Jared turned as you leaned forward, his eyes widening. 

“Y/N are you feeling okay?” He asked as another flash of thunder filled the car. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”

Shaking your head, you tried unbuckling your car, but your arm refused to move. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I’m scared.”

“Damn it,” Jensen exclaimed, suddenly pulling over and stopping the car. “What is it?”

Turning the cab lights on, his mouth opened and shut. Speechless. “What is it?” You asked. “Why can’t I feel my arms?”

“I can’t see them,” he whispered. “Y/N, you’re turning translucent.”

Peering down, you could see the seat straight through where your arm had just been. Terrified, you turned your attention back to Jensen. “What’s going on?”

“Maybe you’re going home,” Jared suggested. “Maybe this a good thing.”

That did put a smile to your face. “I hope so. I’m ready to see my Jensen.”

Turning in his seat, Jensen started to reach out when he remembered he couldn’t grasp your hand. “I know that your Jensen is really lucky to have you. I wish you all the best.”

With tears in your eyes, you gave in to the energy flowing through your system. Closing your eyes, you felt yourself drift away. Seconds ticked by before the weight of your body had you opening your eyes.

Two pairs of eyes stared at you. Beautiful hazel eyes shadowed by a long flop of hair. Then the familiar pine green eyes that you loved so much. Full of so much confusion. “Jensen? Is that really you?”

“Jensen? What the hell,” he muttered, his voice so much deeper, gravelly than normal. As your nerves settled slightly, you could notice the maroon flannel shirt he was wearing, the black t-shirt underneath. You were no longer in the SUV, and the sounds of the storm were no longer hurting your ears. 

“Where am I?” You asked, completely dismayed. Here you had been hoping to find yourself back in your Vancouver apartment.

“Emma, are  you okay?” They both asked again, using your character’s name.  Instead of answering, you stared past them, noticing the familiar design of the Bunker. The bookcases were completely full of empty texts. The prop knives and materials placed on top. You were sitting at one of the wooden tables. 

Cautiously peering up, you were expecting to see the open ceiling, the lights, and the bars of the sound stage. Instead, you were met with smooth plaster ceilings, completely meshed with the walls. “Not again,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes as your hopes dashed. 

Who you had thought of as Jensen, but was Dean, came crouching even closer, rubbing the back of his hand against your cheek. “Emma sweetheart, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Please, tell me. What’s wrong?”

Hastily brushing away tears, you gave him a slight smile. “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try us,” Sam answered, scooting his chair closer. 

“I’m not Emma!” You blurted out. “My name is Y/N, and I play Emma. I’m married to Jensen. My Jensen and not that other one. But I was torn from my Jensen, tossed to the other Jensen, only to be thrown here. I have no idea what’s going on, I just know that I’m so tired. Of it, and of everything. I just want to go to sleep, and wake up and have everything be okay.”

Tears streamed down your face. Tears of frustration and despair. Of heartache and fear. Fear that you would never see your Jensen again. Or your house and the life you had made.

Dean pulled you into his arms, and while it wasn’t exactly the same as Jensen’s, it was still comforting. “Slow down, tell us everything.”

So you did. About your marriage to Jensen, and how everything had been perfect before being pulled away and thrown into utter chaos. You told him about somehow waking up in Austin, and finding out the person you were there was utterly horrible. You told them about driving towards Lawrence and the storm, and how you had slowly disappeared before Jared and Jensen’s eyes.

“Why don’t you go lay down and try to relax?” Dean suggested, eyeing his brother cautiously. “We’ll figure things out, I promise.”

Nodding, you let him guide you out of the library, and down the hallway. A hallway you had walked so many times before. But not as yourself, but as Emma. It felt so much different now. Slightly chilly, the marble tile cool and real under your fingers. “You can sleep in here for right now,” Dean guided you into his bedroom. Reaching into one of the drawers, he pulled out a ratty T-shirt and shorts. What your character normally wore to bed. “I’ll be back to talk in a little bit.”

Smiling at him, you clutched the clothes as he quietly shut the door behind him. 

The bed smelled of Dean, a deep musk mixed with gunpowder and whiskey. It was a mixture that you had always loved. Breathing deeply, you snuggled in, the scent lulling you to a much-needed sleep.

“We need to tell her,” you heard hush arguing as you slowly woke up. “She deserves to know.”

“Yeah, that’s a great awakening,” Dean muttered sarcastically. “But I do agree that she needs to know. Speaking of which, have you heard from Emma? It would be pretty awkward for her to show up, and see another version of herself sitting here.”

“No, nothing. It’s not like her to stay this quiet,” Sam answered. “You don’t think…,”

You opened your eyes to see both brothers in the corner of the room standing close together as they tried to whisper. “I don’t know what to think!” Dean raised his voice, glancing at you to see that you were awake.

“What are you talking about?” You yawned. “Is everything okay?”

Sam patted Dean on the shoulder. “I’ll leave this one up to you.”

He left the room, and Dean slowly came to stand by the bed while you slid up to a sitting position. “Can I sit?” He asked, nervously tugging on the red and grey plaid he had changed into. Nodding, you scooted your legs up, giving him room to sit on the comfortable mattress. “Is it about Emma? Is she okay?”

“We’re not sure,” he answered, his green eyes searched your face. “But that’s not our biggest problem.”

You could feel nervous energy settle through your system as you waited for the bad news to fall. It had to be bad news, that was the only reason he would be this unsure. You stayed quiet, waiting for him to talk, not sure if you wanted to hear anything. 

“This is the third reality you’ve been in,” he started. “Your original one, then the one with another Jensen and Jared. And finally, this one. Each place being an alternate reality of what Sam and I believe is this one.”

“That makes sense, I think,” you were having trouble wrapping your mind around it. “But…,”

He held up his hand and you let him continue. “We’re not sure why you’ve been transported between the three. Why you, and no one else. We’re also not sure if Emma switched places with you. We haven’t been able to get a hold of her for a good 36 hours now. And that’s not a good sign.”

You could see how that news was heartbreaking to him. Instinctively you reached out, threading your fingers through his. “This is what we do know,” his stared straight into your eyes as he continued. “Chuck is super annoyed with us right now.”

“Chuck?”

“I’m not sure what episode of our lives your filming,” he muttered sarcastically. “But here Chuck is now the big bad guy. Killing people, ruining everything. And right now, he is destroying things. Entire worlds.”

“Entire realities?” You gulped. “Including mine.”

“That’s what we’re thinking,” he answered softly. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I know that’s not the news you were hoping for.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, another one quickly joining. “And my Jensen?”

The pained smile on his face was all the answer you needed. Tears streamed down your face, your entire heart shattering in an instant. Dean pulled you into his arms, giving you as much comfort as he was taking for himself. “Do you think he’s dead?” You asked, sniffling. 

“I believe so,” he answered. “Chuck wasn’t gentle. And as much as it hurts now, there has to be a reason you were saved.”

You rested your hand on your belly, Dean’s gaze following it before his eyes widened. “Maybe that’s the reason.”

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82​ @acreativelydifferentlove​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @a-girl-who-loves-disney​ @akshi8278​   @bi-danvers0  @cap-just-said-language​ @colette2537​   @deansgirl215​  @flamencodiva​ @hamiltrash1411​ @its-not-a-tulpa​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @justanotherwinchester​ @just-another-winchester​ @karouwinchester​ @keikoraventeller​  @krys198478 @librarygeekery​ @magssteenkamp​ @misspygmypie​ @mlovesstories​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​  @mrspeacem1nusone​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @ria132love​ @ruprecht0420​  @screechingartisancashbailiff​   @sortaathief​ @superseejay721517​ @squirrelnotsam​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @torn-and-frayed​ @tricksterdean​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​ @woodworthti666​ @beabutterfly987​ @pink-sparkly-witch​ @sexyvixen7​ @alwaysananglophile @supernatural3002​

Not My Reality Tags: @infinityspaceuniverse @supernatural3002 @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @thevelvetseries @lexeeehhh @erule

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algudaodoce03-blog @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl @deanwanddamons @caswinchester2000 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @tatted-trina6 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heartislubbingdubbing @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99blog @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @justsomedreaming @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice   @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93  @nanie5   @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25   @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing  @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman   @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @valsworldofcreativity @vvinch3st3r  @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen

[holylulusworld]

Congrats on 9k followers! Hmm, Sam with the prompt “Why am I never anyone’s first choice!?” Can be anything, angst, smut, up to you! Thank you so much sweetie 💕

The wrong girl

8000 Followers Drabbles Masterlist

Prompt: “Why am I never anyone’s first choice! ”          

Warnings: language, angst, unrequited love, heartbreak, sadness, implied sex, jealousy, low self-esteem

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Sam x unnamed girl (brief)

Characters: Dean Winchester

Word count:  559

A/N: Divider by @talesmaniac89

You hate yourself for being pathetic.

Why did you have to go on that hunt with the Winchesters? Ah, yeah as you believed Sam would finally see you. Hell, you even wore make-up and painted your nails red but again, you didn’t catch his attention.

When you offered to go with Sam he told you to stay with Dean to check on him. Lately, Amara’s influence on Dean got stronger and Sam convinced you his brother needs you around.

Yeah - fuck that! Dean was busy getting drunk while you fend off annoying and grabby guys all night long. Your calls for help and messages remained unanswered so you had no other choice than to stay by the hunter's side until he stumbled out of the bar, mumbling curses.

"Mistakes were made." Snickering you help Dean to get into the Impala before you round it to claim “shotgun” for the next tour.

“You shouldn’t have stayed that long, Dean.” Smirking Dean nods, pecking your hand when someone jolts up the backseat, causing you to shriek.

“Who are you?” A girl, or to be precise a waitress mutters. For a moment you look at Dean, wondering when he had the opportunity to get laid while you babysit him last night.

“Oh! Hey there...” Dean ogles the half-dressed girl while your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

“Morning, guys...” Sam stammers and you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. “That's, uh, my brother Dean and our friend, Y/N.”

“Sorry, Sam. I didn’t get the memo that you wanted to get laid. We will wait outside, maybe I’ll grab a coffee after spending the whole night with babysitting a certain dude.”

Dean gulps at your words, knowing how you feel about his brother he leaves the car to follow you toward the diner.

“Hey, sweetheart, wait up.” Sniffling you wait for Dean who gives you a pitiful look. “The make-up and nails, for Sammy?”

“Stupid, I know that now too. I could’ve stripped my clothes off and draped my body over his lap and he would’ve ignored me too.” Dean wraps his arms around you, gently patting your back.

“Why am I never anyone’s first choice? Why am I always the wrong girl, Dean? Am I ugly? Not lovable or anything.”  

“Maybe he didn’t get that you flirted with him? You could tell Sam how you feel about him.” Chortling you hide your face in Dean’s chest. “Y/N, just try.”

“No, Dean. We both know Sam is smart and always catches up with everything right away. If he didn’t act on it it’s because he’s not interested. I have to accept that I am again - not the girl he would choose...”

Breaking out of Dean’s embrace you give him a cracked smile. “I’ll live, Dean. Let me have a moment or two and we can hit the road.”

“Something wrong with Y/N?” Rushing after you and Dean Sam fumbles with the buttons of his plaid. “Dean?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. Maybe she’s just disappointed you chose a random girl over her. Maybe she wore make-up, nail polish, and a skirt to impress you.” Dean deadpans.

“She’s into me...?” Watching you walk into the diner, head hung low Sam tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “Dean is Y/N into me?”

“Not after tonight, Sammy...”

SPN Forever Tags

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A/N: If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you.

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Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13

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[choco-ganesh]

Linked Worlds

You were a helper. It was in your nature, it was how you were raised. You had made a name for yourself around Lestallem, whether it was helping a street chef with orders to lending a hand to a hunter, you were always there. Over the past months, you had subconsciously decided that Lestallem was your new home, and after the recent events you had heard from a resident about a near by kingdom named Imsomnia, you had also decided to scerelty guard Lestallem and it's citizens.

A few days has passed and slowly but surely, groups of refugees began to setltle in Lestallem. While helping the injured, you learned about a specific group of three refugees who made their way into the city. There was a child, about 8 years old, a girl most likely in her teens, and an older man with a bad limp. You were informed that these three seemed to be dodging the public eye and any help that was offered to them. Curiosity blossomed within you as you kept hearing about these refugees.

Having not yet seen this group after a day, you decided that you would walk the pathways, and search for them. You looked for the older man , hoping you would see him wondering around with the others. He must have been injured while escaping..' you thought yourself. A couple hours passed and you had yet to spot him. You were about to give up and go home when out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the little boy coming from a shop. In his hand was a potion, and his face had a terrified look upon it. He wore a red plaid shirt, kaki pants and a pair of sneakers. You watched him scurry through a crowd and then up a short pair of stairs that lead to a hotel called the leville. You let out a sigh of relief and in that moment you decided to gather what information anyone might know.

People greeted you as you entered the market place, children yelled hello, hunters gave you a single nod and small smiles. Your face softened and you smiled at everyone, spending about an hour catching up with your neighbors, and asking about the newcommers. From the little things you gathered, you figured out they were some form of nobility, and were some of the many others that escaped the disaster of insomnia. "I heard that girl talking to what looks like her grandfather. Saying that she called this 'Noctis' guy and that they're on their way with potions." You hummed at the hunter who told what he knew. You thought for a while. That feeling of wanting to help getting stronger. "I know that face." The hunter chuckled "What're you up to, Y/N?" You smiled and stood from the stool you sat at. "Potions won't be enough. I can tell." You bid the hunter farewell.

You decided to shop a little, gathering food and whatever your home was missing. While in a small convenience store, you spotted a black cane from the corner of your eye and stared at it. "Y/N? Sweetie?" The clerk pulled you from your small trance and you looked at her with slight wide eyes. "Someone needs help, huh?" She giggled at you while handing you your goods and change. You blushed slightly and looked away. "Jeez, I guess I am that readable." You huffed out a laugh. The clerk looked at you for a minute, studying your behavior. She turned, suddenly, and opened the small door that led to the back of the counter, walking towards the cane. She then picked it up, turned to you and held it out for you to take it. "Whoever needs this, you should give it to them." She said quickly. You stared at her and began to pull money out of you pocket. "No, no!" She touched your hand, mmaking you pause. "Its been a while since anyone cared so much about our community. We've always had to look out for each other, and since you you arrived those months ago.. life had been a little easier. Even my grandmother thinks the same." She smiled at you again. "It.. you make me want to help people, and if giving you this cane helps, then I want to do it." You didn't know what to say, or how to feel. To have such influence on someone like this.. it made you strangely proud. You smiled at the clerk and took the cane. "Thank you. I'll pay you back one day." You said your goodbyes and you made your way back into the warm sunlight.

You decided to have lunch and spend time with yourself after you had finished your shopping. You looked at the view of the forest below while gripping the cane tightly. You were waiting for the right time to make yourself known to the refugees, as you felt you didn't want to bother them too soon after their arrival. "Y/N?" You turned around to see the hunter from earlier walking up to you. "Heard something from a friend of mine. Said a bunch of men in all black are making their way here now. I'm guessing it's for the girl and the others." You nodded and looked around to see if they had already arrived. "They aren't hear yet. Maybe another half an hour. Heard the girl asking for a medic, though. I told them I know someone and I though I should come to you." The hunter crossed his arms and motioned with his head to follow you. You gather your things and began to follow him with haste in your step. "Thank you." You smiled, making your way to the leville.

Shortly after your arrival, the hunter decided to post himself outside and keep a look out. As you entered the building, The hotel clerk immediately knew your role in being hear and began to lead you to the room that the refugees were staying in. "Before we enter, the guests have a request." The clerk suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to you, speaking in a serious tone. "They ask to not be mentioned outside of thier room. After you leave, pretend you don't know them unless they ask for you." You felt threatened in a way by this, but you could feel a sense of protectiveness coming from the clerk. Nonetheless, you understood the request and nodded, looking at the the clerk straight in the eye. He nodded after a few silent moments and proceeded to lead you to the second floor and to the room that held the refugees. The clerk knocked two times and waited. A moment had passed and you wondered if there were people even in there anymore. As you started to think nothing of this situation, the door was cracked slightly open. Your eyes fell upon the child you saw earlier, his eyes still held sadness and terror you saw from him earlier. You felt your heart tug and you wondered how he was feeling after going through so much. Your own small wave of sadness washed over you when seeing him so scared and timid. "The medic you requested is here to serve you." The clerk bowed slightly. 'Bowing... I wonder who there people really are.' You thought to yourself. The door suddenly flung open, reveling the child to you. "Will you help us?" The child began to cry. You looked at him and then at the two eldest figures in the room. They looked at you with exhausted and pained eyes. Without hesitation, you looked to the small child and grabbed his hand gently, leading him inside the room. "I hope this isn't too much trouble for you.." the girl spoke up as you reached the bed she was sitting on. "Please, it's no trouble at all." You said as you looked over both of them, making sure there were no serious injury's. "I know it may be hard, but if you can, please tell me what you remember." You spoke to them softly as you sat the child down next to the older man. You kneeled in front of the child and looked at them all. After a long silence, the girl spoke up again. "My name is Iris... This is Jared and Talcott. Were from... Insomnia." She said shakingly. You nodded and waited patiently for her to continue. You learned of a piece treaty that went South, two Kings fighting, demons running around, soldiers called MT's attacking their home. "I had learned through some travelers about this.. I'm so sorry for your losses." You whispered to them all. You looked towards Iris and gently touched her hand. "You were very brave and you got your friends out. You did a good job." You reassured her. Iris nodded and smiled slightly, wiping a stray tear that fell. "Thank you.. me and Talcott are fine, just a little sore.. Jared was hit by a stray bullet, though. We got it out and used a potion but it didn't seem to work. There's something else there.." Iris got off the bed and came to kneel next to you. She gently pulled up Jared's pant leg and reveled his wound. 'What is this..' you thought to yourself as you let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding. The bullet wound was slightly closed but wasn't sealed properly. There was a slight infection and not only that.. there was black ooze forming around the wound and it was slightly pulsating. Something you've seen before..

You sighed deeply and gently touched Jared's leg, but he winced and pulled away from your touch which caused you to quickly retract your hand. "This may hurt a little, Jared. But please don't worry, I'll heal this right up." You smiled up at him, trying to relax him as much as possible. "I believe you." Jared struggled to reply. You gave a single nod and focused your attention on his wound again. You take a deep breath and hold it while closing your eyes. The three watched you carefully but with puzzled faces. Within a few second your hand began to glow a faint green. You opened your eyes and started mumbling to yourself quietly. Your hand become warmer, and it began to glow brighter. "She's a wizard." You could hear talcot whisper. "I.. think you're right." Iris whispered back. You tried not to smile, for you thought the spell would be interupted. You regained focus, and gently touched Jared's wound once more. You heard him hiss in pain again, so without hesitation you grabbed one of his hands with your free one and held it tightly. "You're almost done." You mumbled, pressing your hand harder against the wound. The black ooze that littered Jared's leg stopped throbbing and began to glow the same color as your hand, and bit by bit, it began to break away into thin air. Iris gasped and held on your arm, squeezing it. Suddenly your hand stopped glowing and you pulled your hand away quickly. It was done, the wound was closed and you were strangly exhausted. Everyone was staring at Jared's leg, which was now cleared with a slightly discolored scar. "You.. how did you.." Iris couldn't find any words to say and neither could you honestly. Suddenly talcot latched onto the older man, capturing him a tight hug. You smiled and sighed. 'Another success.' you thought to yourself. A knock pulled you all from your relaxed state. "Lady Amicitia, your brother and the prince have arrived." The clerk said from the other side of the door. The party gasped and looked at each other. Their eyes were wide, like they had just gotten some news. You didn't know if it was good or bad, but by the sudden disappearance of Iris and Jared's touch and all of their smiles, it seemed it was good news. They got on their feet and rushed to the door, making their way down the hallway, leaving you alone. You could hear a mixture of voices down the hall, joy and relief present in their tones. You slowly got to your feet and looked at the open door and smiled, taking that as your cue to leave. You picked up the cane you had brought for Jared and laid it on the bed for him. As you made your way out of the room, you turned to your left, opposite of where the others fled to. You didn't know why, but you felt like you should leave the them to their reunion with their friends and make a quiet exit. You also felt as if you reached a limit of meeting people today. Everyone in Lestallem was taken care of, and these new arrivals sound like they're in good health. As you reached the bottom of the stairwell, you heard Talcott exclaim, "See?! I told you guys! She's a wizard! She disappeared into thin air!" You finally let yourself laugh. You opened the back door and we're met by the warm sunlight again. You already knew you were magical, but hearing it from an exciting personalty like Talcott made you feel good about yourself and you were hoping you would see him again. "Everything all set?" You heard the voice of the hunter behind you. You turned to see him leaning against the support colume. "Yes. The older man, Jared was the only one with a wound. The other two are fine." You waited till the hunter was at your side to start walking again. "Good." Was all he said before staring straight ahead. "You know, you don't always have to keep an eye out. We're safe here." You whispered to him. He sighed and stayed silent, eyes never meeting with yours. "I have my orders." Was all he said to you after a few minutes of silence. You shrugged and decided to just let it go and enjoy the rest of your day.

[dirtysupernaturalimagines]

The Best Weekend Of Your Life - Chapter 1

Summary: You are obsessed with Supernatural and go to a convention with your best friend. You are 100% a Dean girl while your friend is a Sam girl. Both Jensen and Jared are single in this. You both catch the guys attention and things go from there.

Pairing: Jensen x reader, Jared x readers best friend

Word Count: 2774

Warning: Romance, fluff

This is my first attempt at fan fic so if it sucks I apologise! All comments gratefully received

It was finally here. You and F/N have been waiting months for the Supernatural convention and have managed to book a room in the same hotel it’s being held in for the whole weekend. You are both obsessed with the show. You have lost count of the amount of times you have fantasized about Jensen Ackles. The way his hands would feel on your skin, how he would smell and how your name would sound coming from those perfect lips. This was going to be a weekend to remember.

It had taken you a long time and many outfit changes to decide what you were going to wear. Finally you made your mind up and went for your trusty tight fitting Levi’s, a black bodysuit with lace sleeves, black knee high boots with 4 inch stiletto heels and cropped leather biker jacket. You had your hair dyed the deep shade of red you knew suited you and your 80’s rock chick makeup was down to a fine art.

Waiting at the train station with F/N, you can’t contain your excitement. You feel like a child on Christmas morning.

‘Fuck F/N! I can’t believe we are really going to see them in the flesh! I just know I’m gonna do something stupid in front of Jensen though. You know what I’m like!’

‘Yep Y/N, you are pretty clumsy but I’m pretty sure they are going to be way too busy to take any notice of us anyway. Can you imagine how many other people are going to be there?’ said F/N.

Your heart sinks when you realise all the effort you put into your outfit and make up will no doubt be for nothing, but you can’t let the boys see you without at least trying to look good.

The train pulls up and you and F/N board. It’s only a 20 minute journey and you could have easily come home rather than fork out £120 for a room, but you didn’t want to miss any part of the convention and the last train was at 10.20pm.

You arrive at the hotel and check into your room. Glancing at your watch you see it’s 11.30am, and the Q&A with the cast starts at 12pm so you and F/N just have time to unpack your cases, touch up your makeup, and spray some perfume. You take one last glance at your reflection ‘You're going to knock them dead Y/N’ you whisper.

Leaving the room you make your way to the lifts. Following the signs through reception, you enter a huge function room with what must be 1,000 chairs and the same amount of people milling about. There is a stage at the front of the room, with stools, microphones and a guitar setup. Your heart is beating a tattoo in your chest and you feel like you’re finding it hard to breath you’re that excited.

‘Quick Y/N,’ says F/N ‘There are two chairs right at the front!’ She grabs your hand and with a determined shove, pushes through the crowd. You reach the chairs just as two other girls get to them. Being her usual feisty self F/N dives in front of them glaring up at them, ‘I don’t think so!’ she hisses and plonks herself down, pulling you onto the other chair giggling as the girls slink away.

Getting yourself comfortable you pull out the itenary for the weekend. Other cast members are going to be answering questions, but you are only really interested in the boys. You have your ticket ready for the photo opportunity with them, and can’t wait for the moment you finally get to interact with Jensen. The talk from others who have met him is that he is much taller in real life than he seems on TV. That's why you wore heels in case it's true. You stand at 5ft without them, so that you don't want to look like a proper short arse beside him. And with Jared being 6ft 4 you would look even more ridiculous without heels. Luckily F/N is 5ft 8 with a body like a supermodel so she is going to look amazing next to Jared.

F/N grabs your hand and squeezes it, smiling broadly at you as the lights go down. Richard Speight Jr and Rob Benedict, the MC’s walk onto the stage.

One by one they introduce a few of the Supernatural cast. With thunderous applause, Jim Beaver, Ruth Connell, Mark Sheppard and Samantha Smith take to the stage, and entertain the crowd, answering questions and telling stories about each other. Finally, even though you have really enjoyed hearing them speak, it is time for the main attraction.

Your heart starts thumping and you feel your palms getting clammy when Richard announces ‘And now for the moment you have all been waiting for! Please welcome Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki!’

F/N starts squealing ‘Oh My God’ over and over again grabbing your arm. This is it! You’re finally going to see him!

And there he is. All 6ft 1 of him. Broad chest and shoulders, dressed in tight blue jeans, plaid shirt and cowboy boots. You have never seen anyone so beautiful in your entire life. Your heart literally stops and your breath catches in your throat.

Jensen looks around the room smiling and waving, and his eyes glance past you. His head swings back. Amazing green eyes meet yours. He grins straight at you and your stomach falls into your feet. Wait...did that really just happen? Did he pick you out from the crowd or was it just wishful thinking? You look behind you, thinking he must have been distracted by someone or something else, but when you turn back towards the stage those eyes are still staring at you. With a shy, almost coy smile, he lowers his eyes and turns away.

You spin around to look at F/N but she is mesmerised, staring at Jared. Her mouth hangs open, eyes shining. You have to admit, he is a very good looking guy, but nothing compared to Jensen. You’re still not sure what just happened with him. Could he really have been looking at you?

‘Don’t be stupid,’ you tell yourself, ‘there are hundreds of people in this room, why would he be looking at you!?’

You realise you’re not actually taking in anything that’s going on on the stage as you are so caught up in your own little fantasy, so you snap yourself out of it, and get your head back in the room. The boys are sitting on the stools, microphones in hand poised for questions. A plethora of shouts come from the crowd, so Jensen raises his hand, causing the room to fall silent.

‘Good evening Manchester!’ he says and bows followed by Jared. ‘Let’s crack on with the questions’

As you are at the front of the auditorium you have the best view of the boys. Questions come from people all around you, about Supernatural, their relationship with each other, other casts members and their personal lives.

‘Yes we are both single,’ Jared answers which raises a woop from the crowd.

F/N nudges you and winks ‘I swear Jensen is looking at you!’ nodding her head towards him. You glance up, and sure enough, those mesmerising eyes meet yours. You hold his gaze, smiling slightly, and tilt your head to the side. You can feel your cheeks start to redden but are determined not to be the first one to look away.

Just then, Jared starts nudging him, ‘Hey buddy! Cat got your tongue?!’

He turns away, smirking, but not before slowly licking those incredible plump lips. F/N almost loses it, gripping your hand whispering, ‘He is totally flirting with you I’m telling you!’

‘Don’t be mental!’ you tell her, laughing, but inside your shaking. Is he? No, he can’t be?

The questions keep on coming until Jensen picks up the guitar. There is an audible hush around the room when he starts to play. His fingers move quickly and deftly over the strings and you recognise the song. It’s ‘Love Walked In’ by Thunder. He slowly raises his head to the microphone, looks you straight in the eye and starts to sing.

‘So tired of waiting I walked an empty land

I was looking for something to help me understand

But bad luck kept turning my dreams into sand

I didn't want pity, I had my share of friends

I wanted somebody more special than the rest

I was aching inside like I was approaching the end

Just about that moment the timing was so right

You appeared like a vision sent down to my life

I thought I was dreaming when I saw you that night

That's when love walked in through my door

That familiar feeling I had once before

love walked in through my door

And it felt so strange’

You stare intently at him the whole time he is singing. The look on his face and the sparkle in his eyes makes you realise that you haven’t been imagining it. It’s as though you are the only two people in the room. You are certain that time has stopped and your lungs fail to take in deep breaths.

All too soon the song ends to huge applause. Jensen finally averts his gaze from yours and puts the guitar back on its stand.

‘Thank you so much!’ he says bowing ‘hopefully see you at the photo opportunity!’ The boys leave the stage, both of them glancing over their shoulders straight at you and F/N.

‘What the fuck just happened then!’ F/N yells throwing her arms around you in tight hug. ‘That man wants you Y/N. He didn’t stop staring at you the whole time he was singing! It’s as though he was undressing you with his eyes!’

Could she be right? All sorts of thoughts are flying around your brain. He probably does this all the time. Chooses someone in the crowd to make feel good for those few moments, then moves on to the next girl.

F/N looks at her watch,‘Come on Y/N. The photo opp with the boys is starting now. I can’t wait to get my hands on Jared!’

You and F/N rush through the throng of people to a side room where quite a crowd has gathered. You sigh, knowing it’s going to be a long wait for you to see Jensen again. The queue seems to go on forever and you can feel yourself getting more and more impatient. After what feels like an eternity, you can finally see them. Laughing and smiling with fans, camera flashes going off all around. F/N sequels, clapping her hands together. ‘Almost there Y/N!’

It’s your turn. Jensen has his back to you, a glass of water in his hand. He turns, and spots you waiting. His beautiful face lights up, lips turning into the biggest smile and he beckons you over. You can hardly move your legs they are shaking so much, but you manage to put one foot in front of the other and walk over to him.

‘Hey!’ He says, his 6ft 1 frame huge compared to yours. You catch a faint whiff of his aftershave and he smells incredible.

“H-hi." you stutter, closing your eyes tightly as you silently curse yourself for your nerves.

‘What’s your name?’ he asks beaming at you.

‘I’m Y/N and this is F/N.’ Gesturing to your friend, but she is completely distracted by Jared who is already engaged in a full blown conversation with her.

‘Y/N,’ he says quietly in his deep, sexy voice. Wow! It sounded even better than you ever imagined when you had fantasised about this moment. ‘I saw you in the crowd, you were sat at the front right?’ He asks.

‘Yes,’ you reply, ‘And you sang one of my favorite songs!’

‘I could tell by looking at you that you would be a rock chick,’ he responds, eyes travelling down your body, back up to your face, ‘girl after my own heart.’

You swallow hard, not quite believing you are having this conversation with him. ‘Look’ he says, putting his arm around you and pulling you towards him. He looks around conspiratorially, ‘I hate the fact we only get a few minutes to chat to everyone, and this is really not something I would normally do, but I can’t leave this town not having gotten to know you a little bit better.’

Your heart stops then quickly picks up its beat again. ‘Well, we are here for the weekend so if you have any down time....’ you say confidently, although inside you have turned to jelly.

Jensen turns away, reaches for a piece of paper and a pen, ‘Write your number down, quickly, before they move you long,’ he chuckles, handing them to you. You do as he asks. The photographer is growing impatient, so Jensen whispers 'How about photo of us?’ and slides his arm around your waist. You reach behind him and silently slip the paper with your number on into the back pocket of his jeans. You feel the swell of his fantastic ass under your hand as you do so and are amazed at how wonderful it feels.

He looks at you and winks, understanding what you have just done, and places his hand on your face, turning you to look at him just as the camera goes off. You smirk up at him, staring into his eyes, hoping this moment could last forever.

‘Can I text you later?’ he husks. All you can do is nod. He gives you a quick hug and steps away from you. You feel F/N grab your arm,shouting ‘Thanks guys you are amazing!’ as she pulls you away.

‘You are not going to believe what just happened!’ F/N squeals, jumping up and down on the spot.

‘Jared asked for your number?’ you ask.

‘How did you know?’

‘Because Jensen asked for mine too!’ You grin as you say it, still not believing it just happened ‘Don’t get too excited though,’ you warn F/N, ‘it doesn’t mean to say they will contact us.’

‘Come on,’ you say to F/N, ‘Let’s check out the expedition hall. I’m starving and there are food and drink stands there. Let’s grab something to eat.’

You're not really that hungry, but need to do something to occupy yourself and after that encounter with Jensen, you need some sugar. You make your way towards the hall, and wander around trying to decide what to get. There’s plenty on offer, and decide on a pancake with maple syrup, and a Diet Coke, hoping it will calm the butterflies that are zooming around in your stomach. F/N heads off to find somewhere to sit as you go to the stand to place your orders.

Tray in hand, you make your way through the crowd to the table she has found. Dropping down into the seat opposite F/N, you take a small bite of your food. It’s delicious, but your mouth is so dry you find it hard to swallow. You take a sip of the Diet Coke, and try to relax.

The first few bars of ‘Back in Black’ alerts you that you have a text, so you pull your phone from your back pocket.

‘Fucking hell!’ You almost drop it when you see the message. Jensen has actually texted you! What the fuck!? How are you going to respond?

‘Nnnooooo,’ F/N yells snatching the phone off you, almost choking on her pancake. ‘Oh my God Y/N. Answer him!’

You take the phone back off her and hand shaking, type a message back. The responses come thick and fast.

[alleiradayne]

Cowboys and Angels

A COCKLES X READER RPF SERIES

Filming for the last season of Supernatural is underway and Y/N, long-time set photographer, finds herself the center of attention for two of her co-workers, Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles. A roller-coaster of emotions ensues over the year as the three of them attempt to balance work, the end of an era, and experimental love.

Part I - Acquaintances

Summary: Y/N peruses a clothing store in downtown Vancouver the week filming begins on the final season of Supernatural. Though it wasn’t uncommon to run into her co-workers in town, the last she thought she would find was Misha and Jensen. Together. Warnings/Tags: Fluff, flirting Characters/Pairings: Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles, Female Reader Word Count: 1,173 A/N: Once again, please assume everyone involved is consenting and polyamorous. No spouse hate. No wife hate. No Cockles hate. No Misha hate. No hate whatsoever. If you don’t like RPF, don’t read it, and don’t complain to me about it. Update: The oh-so-lovely @atc74​ made this stellar aesthetic for me in hopes that it wouldn’t get the Tumblr Ban Hammer™. Let’s test it.

If money were no object, she would have bought every single stitch in the store. And not just the women's department. Wardrobe always needed fresh styles and the men's selection carried a variety perfect for their cast. Pants that fit both leads. More coats then she could shake a stick at. And boots. So. Many. Boots.

Not to mention all the plaid flannel.

As Y/N flipped through a rack of men's shirts, she pictured Jensen and Jared in each of them, deciding which colors fit them best. Blue and grey on white. Clearly Jensen. Burgundy and black. Jared. Purple and green. Too bad Misha never got to wear the Winchester uniform. She grabbed all three anyway, as well as several others, then turned for the register.

Before she took two steps, Y/N spotted several racks of hats mounted on a nearby wall. Misha never wore much beyond a ball cap or trucker hat. But Jensen. He had an eye for extremely stylish hats. Wide brimmed fedoras, Panamas, Westerns, and Stockmans, Jensen wore them all. Not to mention the newsboy from last season. That had been a particularly attractive look.

Not that Y/N had ever thought that way about Jensen. After so many years working with him on set as a photographer, she had gotten to know him a little bit. But they were hardly friends.

“Y/N?”

She spun about as if caught red handed. “Misha?”

He moved in for a hug before she had a chance to gather her wits. “Good to see you! Ready to start the last season?”

His hug smothered her, cologne and fresh laundry and soap filling her nose as she hugged him. “Yeah, I'm… I'm not ready for the end. But I'm excited to be back.”

When he released her, Y/N looked over his shoulder to find Jensen picking through the rack of plaid. But then Misha's attention returned her eyes to his—damn their brilliant blue—and he said, “Good to see you. How was your summer?”

She hesitated a breath, unable to catch hers as Misha smiled his soft smile and stared into her eyes. “Uh, great. Busy! Kept up with some work. But I'm so excited for the last season!” When his brow knotted, she jumped back in. “It's bittersweet! I'm glad to have been such a permanent part of the show, but I'm so sad it’s ending. Been a major part of my life.”

“I can imagine,” Misha teased as he looked over his shoulder. Jensen considered a blue and gold plaid that she had already grabbed. “You’re not the only one that feels that way.”

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Me? I'm fine,” he said.

Had she not worked with Misha on a regular basis, his touch might have melted her on the spot. Good for Y/N then that she had known him for the better part of ten years.

Except she had never seen that look in his eyes before. Oh sure, during photoshoots and scene work, she captured all manner of devious stares from him. But there had always been a camera between them. He’d never looked at her that way. Not until that moment, in the middle of the little shop, with—

“Hey, Y/N! Been a hot minute,” Jensen said as he shouldered past Misha for a hug.

Fresh laundry, soap, beard oil, and… something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on filled her nose as she hugged him in return. “It has. Ready to put one more in the bag?”

“Stoked,” he said as he parted from her. “Is Misha bothering you? You look… red,” he added as he motioned to his face.

“I… ah, no. He's not bothering me,” she stuttered. “Misha is a saint, and you know that. I'm just picking up some things wardrobe might like.”

“Enabler,” Jensen mused. “They don't need any more plaid.”

“I disagree, keep sending more,” Misha interjected, “They might give me one eventually.”

Loud laughter filled the store as Jensen leaned back as he swatted Misha’s shoulder. “Sure,” he started, “the day you wear plaid is the day they put me in your trench coat.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip so hard the taste of copper filled her mouth. Between the two of them and their laughter, she could barely focus. Best she keep her mouth shut. Yes. Lest she say something stupid.

“We should get going,” Jensen said through a faded laugh. “Lunch, later?”

“I’ve got coverage while you’re on break, but I’ll catch you tonight,” Misha replied.

Jensen turned for the door and waved to them both. “See you then. Nice seeing you, too, Y/N.”

Misha waved him off, and Y/N smiled. “You on set today, too?”

“I will be, later,” she said as she hefted her arms full of shirts. “Gonna grab a few more—”

“I’ve got time,” Misha interjected as he freed her of her load. “What else are you getting?”

She turned back to the wall of hats. “I’m… not sure yet.”

A knowing gleam in his too blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine. “Middle row, third from the left.”

When she pointed to it, Y/N turned over her shoulder, and Misha nodded. She picked it up, black felt smooth under her fingers. A narrow band held a small group of understated feathers on the right, secured by a knot on the left. It might work. Not for the show. But…

“He'll wear it.”

She looked up to find Misha right beside her, the warmth of him radiating over her in waves. “You think so?”

He motioned her to the register. “I know so. Let's get you settled up, my arm’s gonna fall off.”

At the register, the clerk scanned and folded each shirt with great care, giving her plenty of time to think. Between the gleam in Misha’s eye and the attentive nature with which Jensen had spoken to her, Y/N's stomach churned with anticipation. Surely, her mind had played tricks on her, seeing something that wasn’t there. Something her brain had conjured to convince herself otherwise. But why? Because, deep down, she secretly wanted something more from them? Had she, after all those years, worked so closely with them that she had developed some sort of juvenile crush on both men?

“Y/N? You okay?”

Misha’s words sliced through the thick fog of her thoughts as the warmth of his touch spread from the small of her back over her entire body. She shook her head to mask a shiver as she dug into her bag. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Distracted. Thinking about all the work I’ve got to do yet.”

“You sure?” he asked with a smile. “Anything I can do to help?”

She took her card back from the cashier. “Yeah,” she started as she handed him the bags. “Enable me further by carrying these out to my car?”

Misha’s devious smirk crooked the corner of his lips as he took the bags from her. “With pleasure.”

Fuck. Better start bringing a change of underwear to work.

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COWBOYS AND ANGELS MASTER LIST ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

[zarafoodrecipe]

How Alessandro Michele made Gucci relevant again

"A way to live." That phrase, that concept, keeps coming up with Michele, and it's a key to his transformation of Gucci from a label that had drifted far from the conversation to one at the centre of it. He isn't just selling robes, slippers, handbags, things, though he certainly wants customers to buy those, which they've done in numbers that have returned Gucci to peak cultural relevance and extraordinary financial success. He's selling a sensibility: eccentric, eclectic, inclusive. And he's doing it with every mode of communication at his disposal.

The Gucci bomber jacket inspired by Harlem designer Dapper Dan. Credit:Getty Images There are, for example, the collaborators he chooses and the celebrities he pulls into his orbit. His reaction to the graffiti artist Trevor Andrew, aka Gucci Ghost, who in late 2013 and 2014 scrawled the label's signatures all over Brooklyn and Manhattan, wasn't a copyright infringement suit or a cease-and-desist order. It was a formal invitation accepted to make clothes together (for Gucci's autumn 2016 collection). Michele's response to an outcry last year that he had copied from the legendary 1980s Harlem designer Dapper Dan a famous bomber jacket panelled in dark brown mink fur, with voluminous monogram-printed balloon sleeves was to say yes, he did, proudly and in tribute. Then, to prove his respect, Michele teamed with Dap for a joint line of apparel and set him up to work on it in an impeccably restored corner brownstone in Harlem whose lowest level, just beyond an ornate gate, is an atelier with a wall of blood-red drapes facing the street. "I didn't believe it, you know, until Cinderella saw the carriage the carriage with all the horses," Dap tells me when I drop by. "I thought, 'Wow, I guess I'm going to the ball.' When Michele introduced Gucci Bloom, the first new fragrance under his watch, he assembled unconventional ambassadors: Dakota Johnson, best known for being trussed and teased in the Fifty Shades of Grey movies; the young Canadian photographer and video director Petra Collins; and Hari Nef, a transgender actress and model. The Michele message, which never falters, is that the world of luxury is infinitely elastic, that Gucci is a palazzo with room for everybody and that the way to live is together, in harmony, in all of its overstuffed rooms. What to wear? Michele has on a pair of white leather sandals studded with dozens of crystals, sweat socks, frayed jeans and a bulky plaid shirt in baffling tension with the silk scarf above it. He's a fop. He's a lumberjack. He's a hipster. He's also a Christmas tree, ornamented to a fare-thee-well. He loves jewels, typically wears multiple bracelets and necklaces and has bulbous rings one shaped like a fox, another like a wolf on all his fingers except for his thumbs. He's his own Manhattan, his own mosaic. He's messy and mesmerising. Just like his ready-to-wear designs, which jumble elements, patterns, time periods and allusions that were seldom if ever jumbled before: pussy bows on men's shirts, babushkas atop power suits, sneakers under gowns, stripes with plaids, the old-fashioned meeting the space age. He's unrestrained with colour, promiscuous with layers and gaga for floral patterns, animal imagery and corporate logos. Where Tom Ford's Gucci spanning a decade, beginning in 1994 was minimalist, emphasising glamour, Michele's is hectic, emphasising irreverence. I sometimes wonder if he was put on this earth to liberate fashion writers from the adjective "sleek" and acquaint them with "magpie". "Beauty doesn't have limits," he tells me. "It doesn't have rules." When he took over at Gucci, he says, "fashion was talking about something that didn't exist anymore, this kind of posh world of beautiful legs and beautiful hair. I was just talking about humanity. I was trying to find a new energy in the street, not in the jet set." You still need a certain budget for Gucci. But you don't need a certain bearing or taste. "It was a revolutionary act to come in and do what he did with this company," Leto tells me, calling Michele "the Steve Jobs of fashion". Elton John, who was the muse for Michele's Spring 2018 women's and men's collection and his collaborator for a capsule collection in September last year, likens his exuberance to Gianni Versace's. After Versace's death, John thought he'd never gravitate to a famous designer's apparel again. "I didn't think there would be anyone out there worth it," he says. But when he began his farewell tour in September, he did so with a wardrobe by Michele, who creates "clothes with humour", John tells me, adding: "He's making clothes for basketball stars, for US National Football League stars, for people who feel they're not being judged for what size they are. That's important. Most designers make clothes for anorexic stickpins. He's making clothes that everybody can enjoy." John socialises with Michele, knows him well and says Michele's personality also distinguishes him from others in his industry. "Fashion is known for people being divas and being grand," John says, "and I can think of a lot of fashion designers I wouldn't want to spend five minutes with, probably 90 per cent of them. And he's just very down-to-earth."

Michele with Elton John and Johns partner David Furnish at a Gucci launch in London. Hes just very down-to-earth, John says of the designer.Credit:Getty Images Jared Leto, Elton John: this wasn't Michele's crowd before 2015, because for most of his career first at the Italian knitwear brand Les Copains, then at Fendi, then at Gucci, where he designed bags for Tom Ford before rising to become an associate designer to Ford's successor, Frida Giannini he was only modestly known outside the companies he worked for. That changed in a blink, in one of the most unexpected and consequential fashion stories of the last quarter-century. Ford's Gucci was a sensation, its air of hedonism and hypersexuality in perfect sync with the prosperity and libido that defined Bill Clinton's US presidency, but during the Giannini years, from 2005 through 2014, the label lost its mooring and its lustre. It didn't turn heads. It didn't prompt talk. Above all, it didn't communicate anything specific about its time. Michele's Gucci, in contrast, is engaged in a consistently spirited and occasionally profound conversation with the zeitgeist, drawing from it, adding to it and revolutionising fashion in the process. Young consumers plant their flags and sculpt their images on social media, so Gucci, under Michele, does too. They expand and even explode the old parameters around gender, sexual identity, race and nationality, and Michele takes that journey with them, even leads them on it, giving them a uniform for it, a visual vocabulary with which to express it. The emotional genius of what he has done is to affirm their searching. The commercial genius is to create totems for it and, in the process, democratise what we historically called "luxury goods", a phrase too haute and hoary for the party he's throwing. Franois-Henri Pinault, the chairman and CEO of Kering, the luxury conglomerate that owns Gucci, says before Michele took the reins, the problem at Gucci wasn't really sales, which remained respectable. "The perception of Gucci as a fashion authority, as one of the trendsetters, was declining," he says. He fired both Giannini and the company's CEO, who was also her romantic partner and the father of her child, and started over, bringing in the Italian businessman Marco Bizzarri as a new CEO and charging him with finding Giannini's replacement in all likelihood, a fashion nova from another label. When Bizzarri met Michele, then 42, for coffee one day in late December 2014, he was just trying to learn more about the company. Michele, he tells me, "certainly wasn't on the list of candidates". But they talked and talked about the more joyful culture that the company needed, about history and art and life, about how fashion is so much more than merchandise. The conversation spanned three hours, and when Bizzarri contacted him almost immediately afterwards to ask for more time to talk, Michele realised that he had joined the roster. Bizzarri then laid down a challenge that became fashion legend. Gucci was about to present its new autumn 2015 menswear collection, and Giannini had essentially finished it. What if they scratched it and swapped in a collection by Michele? He had a week: five days for the clothes (36 looks in all) and two days for the staging of the runway show, every last detail of which, from the models to the seating arrangement, Michele subsequently changed. "It was a way for me to see if Alessandro was willing to take risks," Bizzarri recalls, "because considering the kind of turnaround that I had in mind, I needed a person who was willing, like me, to take big risks and maybe make big mistakes. If he was going to tell me no, then I didn't want to be with someone who was risk-averse." Michele was emboldened partly by his knowledge of the size and skill of the design team at Gucci. But mostly, he just didn't think about the insanity of what he was trying to pull off. "Somebody gave me the chance to do something beautiful, and when you are working on something beautiful, you don't feel the pressure," he says. "I work to create something that is in my brain, and I don't feel like I have to impress people outside." The result, unveiled in mid-January 2015, was where the pussy bows came in, along with other necklines and fillips usually associated with womenswear. He used both female and male models, so interchangeable in their looks that they became a grand, genderless blur. They wore berets, spectacles, scarves. Androgyny cosied up to cheeky intellectualism, and in a slightly off-kilter palette: an announcement of his willingness to play with colour more daringly than his forebears at Gucci had. These weren't his boldest hues, which would come later, but they were surprising, under-appreciated ones: the gunmetal end of the blue spectrum, the rustier shades of brown, each sometimes throwing a pure, vivid red into more brilliant relief. At the show's end, instead of taking a solo bow, Michele brought his whole team on-stage with him, which was another declaration that a new day had dawned. Only then did the nerves kick in. "I'm not shy in my private life, but I'm really shy when I have to go out in front of a lot of people," he says. "I'm more than shy. I'm terrified." But the applause, he remembers, "was like the biggest hug I've ever felt in my lifetime." Some fashion insiders muttered privately that Gucci had gone mad. But both Pinault and Bizzarri were impressed by Michele's instinct to transplant his own quirks and obsessions into the brand. It gave his designs authenticity and palpable emotion. "He's one of those guys who, despite the size of the brand, despite the power of the brand, says, 'This is my personal creative universe, and I will work with that and the icons and symbols of the brand to create something new,' " Pinault explains. "And he was right." The success that Gucci has had with that approach was a factor in Pinault's decision earlier this year to appoint the unknown 32-year-old British designer Daniel Lee as the new creative director of Bottega Veneta, which Kering also owns. "I asked him about his own personal aesthetic," Pinault says, referring to Lee, "and then tried to find if there was any compatibility between the designer and the brand." The gender fluidity of Michele's work was what drew the lion's share of attention at first. "I was very surprised," he says, because it wasn't a considered provocation or political statement. "I thought that it was such a normal thing." It was happening in the world; it needed to happen in fashion: "This is not a time when fashion can stay inside a box." Popular culture certainly wasn't staying inside that box; just a year earlier, the pioneering television dramedy Transparent had debuted to enormous interest and huge acclaim, and less than six months later, Caitlyn Jenner would appear on the cover of Vanity Fair. The LGBT consonant cluster was being elongated, litigated and traded in for more flexible banners like queer and genderqueer, and "binary" was suddenly a dirty word. Fashion hadn't fully reckoned with that. Michele did intuitively, intelligently and expansively.

Alessandro Michele with his team on the runway after his first Gucci show. Credit:Getty Images That was hardly all that distinguished him. Both the clothes and the voluminous notes that he distributes at the shows betray an erudition and a roving, restless mind that have a lot do with his deep roots in Rome. He grew up in the heart of the city, to parents who revered the arts and had the resources to enjoy them and expose him and his sister to them. His mother was an assistant to an Italian movie executive, and thus steeped in the world of cinema, while his father, a technician for the airline Alitalia, was a sculptor in his spare time. "I walked through these antique ruins from the very first day of my life," he tells me when I visit him there in June. We sit on a green velvet sofa under a dazzling coffered ceiling in his office in a palazzo that was built in the early 16th century according to plans by Raphael. It's now Gucci's design headquarters. Rome is overflowing with the archetypes and iconography of various epochs, layering them, cluttering them, bringing them into collision. When you step out of Gucci's Renaissance digs and glance to the right, you can see a bridge over the Tiber lined with baroque sculptures designed by Bernini and, on the far side, the cylindrical hulk of Castel Sant'Angelo, built in the second century by the Roman emperor Hadrian as a mausoleum for his family. All of this visibly informs Michele's perspective and style. "I spent time with my dad not in the park, not playing sports, but just going to museums," he tells me. "So I spent time in front of these beautiful statues and all these faces and bodies." "Rome is in Alessandro's veins," says Elisabetta Proietti, who taught him when he was a student at the Accademia Costume & Moda, a three-year school with a single program in both fashion and costume design just a few short cobbled blocks from the Gucci headquarters. Proietti is continually struck by the impact that the school's dual focus had on his work. To produce costumes, she says, you must be fluent in the gradations of the past, and Michele's collections for Gucci are indeed like glorious excavations the fashion equivalent of archaeological digs (here the Elizabethan, there the Victorian, a nod to tsarist Russia, a wink at Ziggy Stardust) narrated in a century-hopping, decade-scrambling vocabulary of flowing caftans and boxy jumpsuits, floral and animal prints and brocades. His fascination with yesteryear is even more intense than his and other designers' more common flirtations with the present pop culture. And it's coupled with his insatiable appetite for reading, roving, learning. "He's interested in everything," Proietti says. "He's extremely, extremely curious." Hari Nef recalls that when she first met Michele, at his request, over dinner in West Hollywood at the Chateau Marmont, she had recently graduated from Columbia University, "this program where I had been required to read Virginia Woolf and the Greek tragedies and Homer and Aeschylus. These were all fresh in my head, bouncing around." Michele was game. They bounced around in his head, too. "Frankly," Nef tells me, "these were nerdy topics I was rarely able to engage with people in the fashion industry about." The "fashion industry" isn't something Michele cares to dwell on or in. Among the reasons he favours Rome, he says, is he's unlikely to bump into the designers, journalists, publicists and celebrities who define that demi-monde. His thoughts aren't contaminated by what is deemed trendy. "I want the separation," he says. "I need the separation. I'm not really inspired from fashion. I started from other points of view." His longtime romantic partner, Giovanni Attili, is a professor of urban planning whose scholarship has focused on such subjects as the Haida Nation, an Indigenous tribe in British Columbia. Michele and Attili don't steal away to Tuscany or the Amalfi Coast for breathers. Instead, their holiday home teeters literally atop a gorgeous, ludicrous butte of sorts called Civita di Bagnoregio in central Italy. The village has a year-round population of about a dozen, largely because the earth under it is crumbling and the structures require constant maintenance. "I love the house because it's like it's falling down every year," Michele says. "You don't know how long it will be there. And you don't care. It's a reflection of our life, you know?" On the inside of his left bicep, he has a tattoo of Attili's nickname, Vanni, while his own, Lallo, is tattooed in the same writing and place on his right arm. They're a matching set. The couple met 13 years ago, over the internet, in a funny way. Michele had just gotten a new laptop, and a friend was showing him how the Facebook precursor Myspace functioned, insisting that he sign up.

Models carried replicas of their heads at Guccis autumn 2018 fashion show in Milan.Credit:Getty Images "I was aghast at these kinds of things," he says, but he played along, connecting with one of his friend's 700 acquaintances Attili because of his profile picture. "It was just the view of a beautiful landscape in Canada," Michele recalls. As the two exchanged messages, Michele remarked that he had no idea what Attili looked like. Attili, amused, pointed out that his face was right there, in that landscape. "I didn't realise," Michele says, "that if you clicked on the picture and made it larger, there was a little guy inside. I didn't know I had the possibility to get inside that picture. I was really bad." Which is strange, because one of the hallmarks of Gucci under Michele is how clever it is about social media and what a commanding presence it has there. Michele has more than 400,000 followers on Instagram, where he posts a hypnotic array of pictures that underscore how readily his designs, with their embroidered symbols and explicit pop culture references, translate into viral images. That's integral to the traction that Gucci has found with young consumers. "If you're constantly documenting yourself, you want to be wearing things that are a little over-the-top or statement-oriented," says Phillip Picardi, who was until recently the head of Teen Vogue. Michele makes that possible. "He's managed to do maximalism in a very chic way, and that's perfect for your Instagram grid or your Instagram story." The adolescent protagonist of the critically acclaimed independent movie Eighth Grade, released in July in the United States, ends each of her YouTube videos by saying, "Gucci." It's her equivalent of "cool". In Rome, I watch Michele work with about a dozen colleagues on his spring 2019 menswear collection. Boxes upon boxes of jewellery crowd the tables where they sit. A kaleidoscope of fabric swatches dangles from the walls, and there's an easel of potential T-shirt designs that reveal a current fixation on Dolly Parton, her 1973 song Jolene and the movie The Bride of Frankenstein. I have no idea how they all hang together but then I don't think that I'm supposed to. Four male models charting varying degrees of androgyny wander in and out, quickly changing clothes. Some of their shorts have billows and pleats that evoke skirts. A shiny long-sleeved shirt and an even shinier jacket look as if they're made from hot-pink and turquoise plastic. The wispiest of the models, his long hair gathered in a bun, appears in a pale mauve shirt with traditionally feminine construction, burgundy slacks with wide hips and, over them, a white jockstrap. As Michele fusses with sleeve lengths and frets over colour combinations, Bjrk's Utopia album plays in the background. (Naturally, he designed her outfit for the video of the album's first single, The Gate.) The word I hear him use most often suggests the playful attitude that he brings to bear on everything he designs. It's not bello, or "beautiful". It's carino "cute". At one point, I ask him which of his collections he was most pleased with which one expressed exactly what he wanted it to. He cites the collection with the dragon, his autumn 2018 womens- and menswear show. It was titled Cyborg, and the dragon wasn't the half of it. Several models carried replicas of their own heads. Others had masks obscuring their faces. The clothes kept pace with that eccentricity: royal blue turbans, a multitiered black pagoda hat and colourful patterned head scarves. Rhinestones galore. The plainest suit and the palest jacket had Major League Baseball insignia, just because; a ruby sweater with sleeves that looked like enormous, fuzzy dust mops had "Paramount Pictures", with the iconic mountaintop image, across its chest. He says that he was contemplating the nature of identity today: how everything from the poses you strike on social media to the accessibility of cosmetic surgery allows you to hide, expose or wholly transform yourself. "It's like a laboratory, you know?" he says. "Your life can be like a laboratory. In the past, the idea of being human was what the earth and nature gave to you." That's not so anymore. He calls this era "post-human", explaining that "you can really manipulate everything. It's pretty scary, but it's also pretty interesting. You can lead different lives. You can decide to be different things." And fashion must reflect that, too. By Michele's reckoning, it can no longer be a leash, tethering you to someone else's ideal. It has to be a licence, setting you free and giving you the tools to figure out your own. "Fashion now is like an old lady that is dying on a bed," he said in Harper's Bazaar last year. "I think we can let this old lady die." I ask him if that makes what he is doing post-fashion. He ponders that for a few seconds, letting it sink in. "Probably it's true," he says, "because in a way, it's like, I don't care about fashion. I'm trying to say that fashion is a platform. The way you look is the way you live." No stranger can decree that. It comes together incrementally and sometimes haphazardly, in a fitful and imperfect process of discovery, the way every story and every city does. Why pretend otherwise? Why not just celebrate it? Most Viewed in Lifestyle Loading https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/fashion/how-alessandro-michele-made-gucci-relevant-again-20181126-p50id1.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_feed

[queennicoleinboots]

Doing Business As Swamp Business in Summer 2021 (Pauno POV)

Aaaand here I am again, in the same swamp I was in April 2020 and January 2021 in Social Circle, GA. How the hell I end up here is beyond my Greek God comprehension. I assume I keep going into some portal at work that leads me here. They really should close that off, but no one listens to me. They've been jabbed.

And it's swampier than normal this summer, swampier than it was back in January. Hell indeed has come to Earth. Hades wasn't joking when he said he was burning the Earth. Even some trees were on fire.

The emissions of spike proteins from jabbed people have been on the rise. That's not a conspiracy. That's a fact.

My ex-wife, Kendrick, stupidly got herself jabbed, and I finalized the divorce a month ago. There was no way I was going to stay married to a jabbed person. She chose her side, and I was going to be no part of it. So out on her ass she goes.

I have been dating Artemis, Greek Goddess of nature, hunting, vegetation, chastity, and childbirth. And she was walking with me through these strangely familiar trees and muggy swamp paths.

We walked together and saw the Amazonian woman with long brown curly hair, green eyes covered with leopard print glasses, and giant breasts who wore a purple crop top with a pink bekini. She was doing ballet, and when she would leap, I could see the bottom of her boobs. I couldn't help but stare. I love boobs A LOT.

Artemis looked over at the Amazonian curly-haired woman and approached her. "You look familiar. Have I seen you before?" she asked as she looked her up and down and had her jaw dropped. 

The Amazonian woman looked at Artemis with her right eyebrow raised and shrugged. "I don't remember at all, but maybe we crossed paths before. I've met a lot of people. I dunno." She shrugged with her arms and grinned awkwardly. "But I know you're Artemis, Greek goddess of nature, hunting, vegetation, chasity, and childbirth."

"Correct. I remember you being on TV back in the 1980s... but you looked similar but different. Like you talked to Hermaphroditus recently," Artemis said.

"Actually, I have. She was the one who gave me the ability to switch genders at will. She was part of the gender reassignment program the government funded with the stimulus bill in December 2020," the Amazonian woman answered with an extremely sexy smile. Her smile was extremely familiar... her teeth were sort of like a vampire's... I know someone else who has teeth like that... She is extremely hot, hot enough to be a porn star... I know who this is.

"I know who you are now! You're Peter Wallace Parker from "Artie Wonderbloom Went Wild in California," aren't you?!" Artemis asked. 

My boner felt confused. I just stared at her. IT WAS A TRAP!!!!

She sighed cutely (definitely a trap) before she spoke, "I was, yes, but I changed my name. Peter isn't a girl's name." She sighed and rolled her gorgeous green eyes.

'Remember. That's actually a dude,' I thought to myself.

She still acted like Peter.

The swamp bubbled up before a man with shaggy red hair started crawling from the large puddle in the middle of said swamp. He was covered in mud. He looked familiar as well. He looked like someone who frequented my sex and cocaine parties. He then hugged Peter around his curveous, milky waist. Peter was a very convincing girl. He had great boobs.

'GO AWAY BONER!!!!' I shouted inwardly to myself.

"Xaria, I have found you," the man covered in mud said as he kissed the left side of the other dude's curveous, smooth, milky body.

Goddamn I still hate transexuality. I am not even an iota of gay. This is not funny at all. Why the hell would anyone change their gender? That's fucking retarded. Sounds like part of a commie plan. Let's confuse everyone's genders so that people no longer have their true identities. Why else would they include gender reassignment to a stimulus package? I'm still disgusted with the idea. So apparently the ideas of boys and girls are going to be replaced with purple penguins. Jesus Christ, we need your help to fix this shit. My boner is confused about these things.

Peter, or should I say Xaria, smiled and put his dainty yet long fingers around those of the other man. "Oh hey, Jared. Why the hell did you emerge from the mud?"

King Joebear then growled a great bear growl before announcing, "That's great, and now excuse me, I need to lick ass." To relieve his stress and anxiety, he mauled Xara, his wife who is AN ACTUAL FEMALE and licked her nice ass.

To relieve my stress and anxiety, I jacked off.

Count Macrula was singing an angelic opera to summon a swamp drain in the middle of the swamp to relieve his stress and anxiety. He looked more stressed than any of us. He needed to find some CBD and beer quickly.

"BAE WHUHH!!!!" Xara shouted as she shook her divine booty and did the backfat dance in front of us. She was bleeding like a stuffed pig. Xara's ass is legendary. If she were single and I were single, I would be after that booty. Swiggity Swoogity.

King Joebear growled before he mauled her and started to lick her ass for the second time.

Count Macrula laughed a hearty laugh before he addressed Kissy, the small orange cat Xara and King Joebear had. "I am not going to lick your cat ass if that's what you are implying."

Kissy looked at Count Macrula in confusion before she meowed again. "No. I definitely did not call you for that. I simply meowed out of enjoying pizza crust," she said.

We went down the swamp drain in a clockwise direction because we were in North America.

--------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, I ended up back in Maryland and back at my job. I was surrounded by Commies. They were in support of this New World Order. I tried to tell them what was going to happen and about Proverbs, Psalms, and Revelation, but they argued with me. I showed them documentation of what was happening in the government, military, 9-11, Area 51, and Pizzagate, but they looked at me as though I WERE the crazy one. This job is so frustrating.

There were five other people with me working on the project. My girlfriend, Artemis was one of them. I managed to get her a job with me, and she was good at it. Then, a meathead who looked like a GI-Joe action figure was in our group. We'll call him G-I. Of course, there was that Tolkien black guy in the group. His name was Baaaahlah Barnes. He was a black goat who happened to hate other black goats. He also hated when you mispronounced his name.

Persephone, the Greek Goddess of spring growth and swamp growth and Queen of Hell was also trying to help design the program of this project. She looked a lot like Xara, strangely enough. She spent more time arguing with the program than actually typing in commands. I think she was hired for comedic relief.

Last but least there was redheaded Jared, another transexual. She used to be a girl, but she was probably tired of being catcalled and a result, changed her gender. She was new, and come to think of it, she was at several of my wild parties before. She makes jewelry for weddings when she isn't here.

"Son of a bitch!" Artemis said as she was trying to code a program to misdirect the military in the event that they swarm the streets of American cities in broad daylight.

"Yes. Technically I am one. My mother was a bitch. That's why I am a therapist when I am not here or making jewelry," Jared said as she was whizzing through the coding. There is a lot we don't know about Jared.

Artemis snort-laughed. "Yeeeaaaahhhh! Mine is, too. She never taught me programming. Meanwhile, I'm trying to put the 1 here, and it is wanting to put a 0," she said. "Programming wasn't popular back in my day."

So that's how I know Jared. She was catcalled too many times as a therapist. I know that for a fact.

"You need to put a slash here, Artemis," I said as I clicked on the spot where she tried to connect too many 1s at a time.

"Oh yeah! Wow! How did I miss that?!" Artemis yelled. "Oh yeah, because I am NOT the Greek goddess of programming and computer technology."

I threw my head back and laughed.

"Neither am I, apparently," Persephone said as she stared intently at the computer screen with her gray eyes and legitimately growled.

"Yeah. My dad is always busy at Greek God meetings, and my mother is always at a parent-teacher conference. They aren't concerned with teaching me programming language" Artemis said as she typed more code.

"Damn. So who taught you to program?" I asked.

"I did!" Jared said. "Artemis is a quick learner."

I didn't know Greek Goddesses needed human therapists. The hell's going on here?

"Who taught you to program?" I asked Jared.

"My dad," Jared said as he, too, worked on a program that would have dancing bears interrupt a government simulation.

"Sounds like a nice man," I said as I was working.

"He is," Jared said.

All of a sudden, Xaria entered our warehouse area through a computer. He was wearing black nylon bekini panties and a black and red plaid short tank top. We could see his tummy. He looked around and was shocked. "Wow! How the hell did I end up here?"

Baaaahlah Barnes, Persephone, and G-I looked over and oogled at Xaria's large breasts.

Baaahlah Barnes bleated loudly. "Holy Shit. You're hot as hell! I don't know how you got here but you hot as hell!"

"I probably maybe designed a program that brought you here. Your sexy outfit is a bonus, Xaria," Persephone said as she licked her small lips.

G-I was looking her up and down. "Whoa! I am glad you're here! This job just got interesting!" he said. That motherfucker was loud when he talked.

"Judging by your outfit, I can assume you were doing a cam show," I said flatly.

"Of course. That's my new job, given the pandemic. I have hardly any reason to leave my house unless I forage for food for my mom and me. AAAAND!!!! I don't have to do drywall anymore!" Xaria said with a huge smile.

"Wait a minute! You did drywall?" Baaahlah Barnes asked.

"Yeah. My family got me into it. I hated it. Haaaaated it!" Xaria sang.

"How the hell does a woman do drywall?" Baaaahlah Barnes asked.

"That explains the muscles! Holy shit!" G-I said. His voice hurts my ears.

Should I let the cat out of the bag?

"There's a reallly long story behind that," Xaria said.

"She spoke to Hermaphroditus, the goddess of sex changes and intersexuality," Artemis answered as she saved her work and gave her undivided attention to Xaria.

No. She let the cat out of the bag.

Xaria cleared his throat. "That shortened the story. But yes, I got a sex change through the government reassignment program. I would do anything to get out of doing drywall."

Baaaahlah Barnes bleated and said, "WHAT????!!!!! You got sex change surgery to get out of doing drywall!? HahahahahahHAH! That is crazy as hell man!" He laughed loudly and slapped his knees. His chest was heaving from laughter.

G-I scratched his head and just oogled her. "Wow. It worked in your favor. You are a super hot woman!"

"Yes. It seemed like a good fit given that I always had female tendencies anyway," Xaria said with a damnably cute grin.

"Were you gay before?" G-I asked.

Xaria scoffed off at him. "I'm *bisexual.* There's a difference," he said as he rolled his eyes.

He's giving me a weird boner with his green eyes. I'm not going to acknowledge it.

"So, have you fucked a lot of dudes?" G-I asked.

"I've had lots of interactions in general. I used to be a legitimate porn star... as a man," Xaria said.

Baaahlah Barnes bleated. "Oh yeah. You were Peter Parker. I watched a lot of yo shit, man!" he exclaimed with more laughter. He threw his head back and just busted up laughing.

"So, you like both guys and girls. And you had a very popular dick. What would possess you to cut it off?" G-I asked.

That was a very good question. I couldn't imagine that. I'm shuddering at the thought.

"I have always been sterile," Xaria said with a smirk. "I have no idea why."

"Truly a shame. You would have made beautiful spawn. I should have fucked you. You wouldn't be so sterile then," Artemis said.

"And you could have fucked me. Your seed would have made me quite pregnant," Persephone said as she was inching toward the hologram of Xaria Wonderboom.

"But since Artemis and Persephone haven't fucked Peter, he indeed has been sterile. I can attest for that," Jared said.

G-I and Baaaahlah Barnes looked at Jared in shock.

"How?!" G-I shouted.

"Jared's a tranny, too," I said to him flatly. 'Goddamn you're an idiot!' I thought.

Xaria was smiling when he said, "Jared and I got our surgeries together. The latest government stimulus package included gender reassignment, so we thought, 'Why not?' It would be a good way to stop carrying parts that didn't work, AND most importantly, I can get out of doing drywalllll!!!" Xaria had to sing "drywall." He hated it that much.

"Meanwhile, I have his penis and balls attached to me now," Jared said. "I donated my breasts to people that wanted boob jobs. As for my vagina, I donated it to a dude who happened to be the same size as me. I hope this person enjoys it as much as I did."

I blinked. I was having an interesting day. "This is proof that medical science is crazy. Actually crazy," I said. "The correlation between economic stimulus and gender reassignment is beyond me."

"Popular demand?" Xaria asked.

"Why can't the government use the money to actually help people?!" I shouted.

"You mean like things like food, shelter, clothes, rent, and toiletries that people actually need to survive?" Jared asked.

"YES!" I shouted as fire burned in my green eyes. The office was beginning to transform.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

We heard a big bear snore in the cave we were in.

"Bruh, how the hell did we get here?" Baaaahlah Barnes asked.

"Pauno transferred us to a bear cave in one of his rages. Talking about any kind of government spending that does not make sense to him transports people to random places," Artemis said. "Needless to say, I have travelled the world in less than 30 days."

King Joebear snored and then rolled over.

Jared was charmed by Xaria's green eyes and grinned before looking up at him. "Apparently, we should have kept our genders," she said as she put her dainty fingers around longer fingers of Xaria.

Those must have been their therapy sessions all the time. No wonder Xaria is such a slut.

"If I would have known we'd travel in a bear cave over it, then I would have probably NOT taken advantage of the gender reassignment program the government was offering. The stimulus bill didn't stimulate me at all. NOW IF WE WERE TO CHANGE THAT TO A STIMULUS BELINDA, then maybe I might have been stimulated by the idea. And maybe Pauno would have transferred us to an island in the Carribbean instead of a random bear cave," Xaria said as he wrapped his arm around Jared's waist.

This is what talking to a liberal sounds like. I have no idea how to respond.

Persephone emerged from farther inside the cave. "Keep it down, Xaria. My bear is trying to sleep," she said as she grabbed his butt. She then moved her hands around the tranny's legs, groin, and boobs. She then gave his lips a big kiss.

(How the hell did Persephone end up deep in the cave? The fuck is going on?)

"BOOBS!!!! I am Pauno, the Greek God of parties, being supportive, wine, and crack cocaine," I said as I brought down bottles of wine, crack cocaine, and gyros.

Persephone then went over and ate a gyro. Kissy jumped on the table and ate a different gyro with her.

Xaria snorted a few lines of crack cocaine. "At least I quit drinking!" he said with a cute grin.

Artemis drank some wine, snorted crack cocaine, and ate gyros.

Baaaahlah Barnes ate gyros. "I don't drink or do drugs anymore."

"I am proud of you," I said as I took a swig of red wine.

"Red Wine" by UB 40 began to play in the background.

Persephone was patting Kissy's ass to the beat of the song. Kissy let out a little meow and laid next to Persephone. Persephone pet Kissy.

King Joebear growled loudly as he came out of within the cave. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he shouted. "Where's my oatmeal!?"

"Ooh hoo Bear!!!!!" Persephone shouted in excitement. Then she growled like a bear at him.

G-I was drinking, snorting cocaine, and eating some serious gyros.

Jared ate a gyro, too.

Xaria looked at me with a huge smile before he gave me a huge hug. My penis forgot that Xaria was actually a dude. I thought about pushing him off of me, but all I could say was, "You're welcome. A hug is all that a Greek God will allow thee. And even then, 10 seconds is the maximum allotted time." I then brought down a bowl of oatmeal for hungryass King Joebear. I did not want to be mauled by a bear.

Jared sighed and pulled Xaria off me before giving him an encompassing hug. "You're a bad girl," she said as she ran his hands underneath his top and was touching his back.

"I am going to fuck you," Xaria whispered and winked to Jared. "Let's go in this cave."

"Please do! Your vagina feels so lovely!" Jared said softly as she led Xaria into the cave while looking up at him longingly. She wanted some pussy.

Count Macula, Jr. barrelled out of the cave with a serious look on his face. He had an announcement to make, "I like Xaria's boobs. I like Xaria's boobs. I like Xaria's boobs. I like Xaria's boobs. I like Xaria's boobs. I like Xaria's boobs. I like Xaria's boobs. I like Xaria's boobs. I like Xaria's boobs." Then he barrelled right back in that cave.

Oh that's right. Count Macula, Jr. repeats himself nine times instead of eight because he had a birthday recently. Oh that's obnoxious.

I went over the table where everything was and downed a few glasses of wine. "HOLY SHIT WHAT HAS THIS WORLD COME TO?!" I shouted.

"GREAT BOOBS! GREAT BOOBS! GREAT BOOBS! GREAT BOOBS! GREAT BOOBS! GREAT BOOBS! GREAT BOOBS! GREAT BOOBS! GREAT BOOBS!" Count Macula, Jr. shouted with conviction from within the cave. He growled nine times for effect.

King Joebear shouted, "I'm out! I can't do anything! This is too gay for me."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Even if we were out of the warehouse, we couldn't say anything considered racist in 2021. There was a black guy who claimed to be African American. I agree with Count Macrula when he says that aren't actually African Americans unless they were actually born in Africa or had parents that were born in Africa.

So, I yelled in my car where only Artemis could hear me, "Stay in your own lane, you stupid N*bbr!"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Count Macula, Jr. yelled in the lane next to me. Persephone was driving and trying to maintain patience as she drove behind the slow-moving black cadillac.

I drove next to Persephone and Count Macula, Jr. and honked and waved. They waved back. They had five fingers on each hand and/or paw. They weren't part of the Nephalem. Most Nephalem had six or seven fingers on each hand.

I passed by them and took Artemis and myself home. We had more wine and sat down to research what was going on in the universe.

As we searched the Internet for real news, we discovered RTN, the Real Truth Network. King Joebear and Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing were the news anchors that were broadcasting to us. King Joebear growled to the other bears who were watching and then translated what he said into English.

King Joebear spoke, "The Internet and world has changed as we know it. There is 'no going back to normal.' The New World Order Is Here. They have Minutemen III nuclear missiles stationed right outside of Washington D.C and 35 miles off the Coast of Hawaii. Youtube, Facebook, and even Odysee are more censored than ever. Trump supporters and the Proud Boys are planning riots under the Cat Intelligence Association's nose. Most major cities are deserted. And Hell on Earth has officially opened possibly due to CERN portals and/or Hades himself. There will be more updates on that story as we read more of Revelation in the Bible. The good news is, after Tribulation, Jesus will rule the Earth for a thousand years."

"At least it has been peaceful in Washington D.C., Athens, GA, Logantown, GA, Los Angeles, CA, the United Kingdom, and Tybee Island, GA. Washington D.C. is now deserted due to high prices of living and the Capitol of the United States moving to Denver, Colorado. South Africa is still being swallowed up by Hell, and floods are literally spiking up all over the globe. Germany and parts of China are starting to resemble the lost city of Atlantis. A large population of merefolk have moved into those cities, causing the revenue to INCREASE in those countries and cities..... who the fuck writes these teleprompters?" Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing blurted out as he threw his right paw in the air.

King Joebear busted up laughing before he cleared his throat. "The news is no laughing matter. You are now required to wear a mask before you leave your house. 'Go back to normal, according to the Center of Disaster and Plague Control and Prevention', my fat bear ass. Proof of getting the jab will be required to enter into any grocery store or department store. It will also be required to buy or sell online in 2022. FEMA camps will also be the likely future housing situation for those of us who resist the narrative. There will be more on that story as more information arrives at our news station. The government is trying to jab us all. They told us things would go back to normal if we just get jabbed. Well THAT WAS A DAMN LIE! DURRTTEEEDURRR!!!" He was making goofy faces at the camera.

Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing laughed. "I used to work for these assholes. I know."

King Joebear continued, "Please be aware. Do not answer your door if you do not know or expect the person to come in your home or even on your property. I know that if some motherfucker tries to jab me, they will get a knuckle sandwich WITH EXTRA BEAR!"

"The vajab has also been reported to cause blood clots, blood clumping, and fuckin' strange ass mutations on the hands and foreheads of those who were jabbed. We will report more updates on that story as they come to our news station," Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing spoke with seriousness before he smiled and continued. "But for now, we will move on to a word from our sponsors at the Real Food Network."

"I want oatmeal and honey-glazed carrots!!!!" King Joebear shouted.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yes Big Bears!!! Oatmeal and honey-glazed carrots on a Friday afternoon!!!!" Persephone shouted as she was cooking oatmeal and carrots. "I'm hungry again."

"I love oatmeal, but you know what I hate?" Count Macula, Jr. asked as he helped Persephone add cinnamon to the oatmeal.

"What? N*bbrs?" Persephone asked as she stirred the oatmeal.

"Hahahahaha Yes, but you know what I hate more than N*bbrs?" Count Macula, Jr. asked with a snort laugh. "Wooooo can't say that on regular news channels Haha."

"What?" Persephone asked.

"Radiated Refried Beans!" Count Macula, Jr. yelled.

"Oh yes! Recreational Radiated Refried Beans!" Persephone shouted.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

King Joebear and Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing talked about the invalidity of recreational radiated refried beans.

"I'm speechless!" King Joebear continued. "Microwaves actually cause cancer. The cancer rates have made an astounding increase since the 1980s, when microwaves were first introduced to the general population. Fuck that. Aaaaahhhh!!!"

A graph on the screen showed the steady increase of cancer patients between 1977 and 2028. The future is ahead of us. We just aren't there yet.

Artemis and I just burst out laughing.

"We are in the Dark Ages. Communism is trying to take over America. And the world," I said as I shook my head.

"Do we have enough strength for when war hits?" Artemis asked.

"Nope," I said as I stared at King Joebear speaking.

"All we can do is pray," Artemis said.

"Yep. Psalm 23, Psalm 91, and Psalm 129," I said.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

King Joebear, Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing, and Count Macula, Jr. all growled loudly in excitement. The trees in the forest shook from the energy the bears were exerting with their growls. The bears were in a forest.

"You all have problems. Would you all like to make appointments?" Jared asked as she walked up to them.

"No. Therapy doesn't work on me," King Joebear answered.

"Yes. What do you have available?" Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing asked.

"Sunday, August 1?" Jared asked.

"I'll take it!" Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing sang.

Jared then wrote the appointment in her calendar. "What about you, Count Macula, Jr.?" she asked as she looked up at the white cub.

"Yes please. Yes please. Yes please. Yes please. Yes please. Yes please. Yes please. Yes please. Yes please. What do you have available?" Count Macula, Jr. asked.

Jared then looked at her calendar before she spoke, "Sunday, August 8?"

"I'll take it. I'll take it. I'll take it. I'll take it. I'll take it. I'll take it. I'll take it. I'll take it. I'll take it. Will you serve gyros?" Count Macula, Jr. asked.

"No, but will Pauno summon some?" Jared asked.

"Yes," I said. "I shall make gyros rain from the sky!" I threw lightning bolts in the air and was staring at Artemis's C-cup tits. The only thing that happened was that I made tzaziki sauce rain from the sky. "What the fuck?"

The bears sniffed the air. Their noses curled back in disgust.

"The spike proteins have soured the meat!" King Joebear said vigorously.

He, Bruce the Ace of Brake-fixing, Count Macula, Jr., and the other bears growled angrily like cubs.

Paul the Goat made a series of bleats in disgust. Hollywood charged away with Paul the Goat on his back as they floated in the air. Both of them neighed in frustration. The swamp golem hobbled after them.

I growled angrily as well because I was looking forward to gyros. Today was definitely a gut punch.

[deanwanddamons]

The Best Weekend Of Your Life - Chapter 1

Summary: You are obsessed with Supernatural and go to a convention with your best friend. You are 100% a Dean girl while your friend is a Sam girl. Both Jensen and Jared are single in this. You both catch the guys attention and things go from there.

Pairing: Jensen x reader, Jared x readers best friend

Word Count: 2774

Warning: Romance, fluff 

Song for chapter: https://youtu.be/xDeyXWyM4Oo - Thunder - Loved Walked In

It was finally here. You and F/N have been waiting months for the Supernatural convention and have managed to book a room in the same hotel it’s being held in for the whole weekend. You are both obsessed with the show. You have lost count of the amount of times you have fantasized about Jensen Ackles. The way his hands would feel on your skin, how he would smell and how your name would sound coming from those perfect lips. This was going to be a weekend to remember.

It had taken you a long time and many outfit changes to decide what you were going to wear. Finally you made your mind up and went for your trusty tight fitting Levi’s, a black bodysuit with lace sleeves, black knee high boots with 4 inch stiletto heels and cropped leather biker jacket. You had your hair dyed the deep shade of red you knew suited you and your 80’s rock chick makeup was down to a fine art.

Waiting at the train station with F/N, you can’t contain your excitement. You feel like a child on Christmas morning.

‘Fuck F/N! I can’t believe we are really going to see them in the flesh! I just know I’m gonna do something stupid in front of Jensen though. You know what I’m like!’

‘Yep Y/N, you are pretty clumsy but I’m pretty sure they are going to be way too busy to take any notice of us anyway. Can you imagine how many other people are going to be there?’ said F/N.

Your heart sinks when you realise all the effort you put into your outfit and make up will no doubt be for nothing, but you can’t let the boys see you without at least trying to look good.

The train pulls up and you and F/N board. It’s only a 20 minute journey and you could have easily come home rather than fork out £120 for a room, but you didn’t want to miss any part of the convention and the last train was at 10.20pm.

You arrive at the hotel and check into your room. Glancing at your watch you see it’s 11.30am, and the Q&A with the cast starts at 12pm so you and F/N just have time to unpack your cases, touch up your makeup, and spray some perfume. You take one last glance at your reflection ‘You're going to knock them dead Y/N’ you whisper.

Leaving the room you make your way to the lifts. Following the signs through reception, you enter a huge function room with what must be 1,000 chairs and the same amount of people milling about. There is a stage at the front of the room, with stools, microphones and a guitar setup. Your heart is beating a tattoo in your chest and you feel like you’re finding it hard to breath you’re that excited.

‘Quick Y/N,’ says F/N ‘There are two chairs right at the front!’ She grabs your hand and with a determined shove, pushes through the crowd. You reach the chairs just as two other girls get to them. Being her usual feisty self F/N dives in front of them glaring up at them, ‘I don’t think so!’ she hisses and plonks herself down, pulling you onto the other chair giggling as the girls slink away.

Getting yourself comfortable you pull out the itenary for the weekend. Other cast members are going to be answering questions, but you are only really interested in the boys. You have your ticket ready for the photo opportunity with them, and can’t wait for the moment you finally get to interact with Jensen. The talk from others who have met him is that he is much taller in real life than he seems on TV. That's why you wore heels in case it's true. You stand at 5ft without them, so that you don't want to look like a proper short arse beside him. And with Jared being 6ft 4 you would look even more ridiculous without heels. Luckily F/N is 5ft 8 with a body like a supermodel so she is going to look amazing next to Jared.

F/N grabs your hand and squeezes it, smiling broadly at you as the lights go down. Richard Speight Jr and Rob Benedict, the MC’s walk onto the stage.

One by one they introduce a few of the Supernatural cast. With thunderous applause, Jim Beaver, Ruth Connell, Mark Sheppard and Samantha Smith take to the stage, and entertain the crowd, answering questions and telling stories about each other. Finally, even though you have really enjoyed hearing them speak, it is time for the main attraction.

Your heart starts thumping and you feel your palms getting clammy when Richard announces ‘And now for the moment you have all been waiting for! Please welcome Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki!’

F/N starts squealing ‘Oh My God’ over and over again grabbing your arm. This is it! You’re finally going to see him!

And there he is. All 6ft 1 of him. Broad chest and shoulders, dressed in tight blue jeans, plaid shirt and cowboy boots. You have never seen anyone so beautiful in your entire life. Your heart literally stops and your breath catches in your throat.

Jensen looks around the room smiling and waving, and his eyes glance past you. His head swings back. Amazing green eyes meet yours. He grins straight at you and your stomach falls into your feet. Wait...did that really just happen? Did he pick you out from the crowd or was it just wishful thinking? You look behind you, thinking he must have been distracted by someone or something else, but when you turn back towards the stage those eyes are still staring at you. With a shy, almost coy smile, he lowers his eyes and turns away.

You spin around to look at F/N but she is mesmerised, staring at Jared. Her mouth hangs open, eyes shining. You have to admit, he is a very good looking guy, but nothing compared to Jensen. You’re still not sure what just happened with him. Could he really have been looking at you?

‘Don’t be stupid,’ you tell yourself, ‘there are hundreds of people in this room, why would he be looking at you!?’

You realise you’re not actually taking in anything that’s going on on the stage as you are so caught up in your own little fantasy, so you snap yourself out of it, and get your head back in the room. The boys are sitting on the stools, microphones in hand poised for questions. A plethora of shouts come from the crowd, so Jensen raises his hand, causing the room to fall silent.

‘Good evening Manchester!’ he says and bows followed by Jared. ‘Let’s crack on with the questions’

As you are at the front of the auditorium you have the best view of the boys. Questions come from people all around you, about Supernatural, their relationship with each other, other casts members and their personal lives.

‘Yes we are both single,’ Jared answers which raises a woop from the crowd.

F/N nudges you and winks ‘I swear Jensen is looking at you!’ nodding her head towards him. You glance up, and sure enough, those mesmerising eyes meet yours. You hold his gaze, smiling slightly, and tilt your head to the side. You can feel your cheeks start to redden but are determined not to be the first one to look away.

Just then, Jared starts nudging him, ‘Hey buddy! Cat got your tongue?!’

He turns away, smirking, but not before slowly licking those incredible plump lips. F/N almost loses it, gripping your hand whispering, ‘He is totally flirting with you I’m telling you!’

‘Don’t be mental!’ you tell her, laughing, but inside your shaking. Is he? No, he can’t be?

The questions keep on coming until Jensen picks up the guitar. There is an audible hush around the room when he starts to play. His fingers move quickly and deftly over the strings and you recognise the song. It’s ‘Love Walked In’ by Thunder. He slowly raises his head to the microphone, looks you straight in the eye and starts to sing.

‘So tired of waiting I walked an empty land

I was looking for something to help me understand But bad luck kept turning my dreams into sand I didn't want pity, I had my share of friends I wanted somebody more special than the rest I was aching inside like I was approaching the end Just about that moment the timing was so right You appeared like a vision sent down to my life I thought I was dreaming when I saw you that night

That's when love walked in through my door That familiar feeling I had once before love walked in through my door And it felt so strange’

You stare intently at him the whole time he is singing. The look on his face and the sparkle in his eyes makes you realise that you haven’t been imagining it. It’s as though you are the only two people in the room. You are certain that time has stopped and your lungs fail to take in deep breaths.

All too soon the song ends to huge applause. Jensen finally averts his gaze from yours and puts the guitar back on its stand.

‘Thank you so much!’ he says bowing ‘hopefully see you at the photo opportunity!’ The boys leave the stage, both of them glancing over their shoulders straight at you and F/N.

‘What the fuck just happened then!’ F/N yells throwing her arms around you in tight hug. ‘That man wants you Y/N. He didn’t stop staring at you the whole time he was singing! It’s as though he was undressing you with his eyes!’

Could she be right? All sorts of thoughts are flying around your brain. He probably does this all the time. Chooses someone in the crowd to make feel good for those few moments, then moves on to the next girl.

F/N looks at her watch,‘Come on Y/N. The photo opp with the boys is starting now. I can’t wait to get my hands on Jared!’

You and F/N rush through the throng of people to a side room where quite a crowd has gathered. You sigh, knowing it’s going to be a long wait for you to see Jensen again. The queue seems to go on forever and you can feel yourself getting more and more impatient. After what feels like an eternity, you can finally see them. Laughing and smiling with fans, camera flashes going off all around. F/N sequels, clapping her hands together. ‘Almost there Y/N!’

It’s your turn. Jensen has his back to you, a glass of water in his hand. He turns, and spots you waiting. His beautiful face lights up, lips turning into the biggest smile and he beckons you over. You can hardly move your legs they are shaking so much, but you manage to put one foot in front of the other and walk over to him.

‘Hey!’ He says, his 6ft 1 frame huge compared to yours. You catch a faint whiff of his aftershave and he smells incredible.

“H-hi." you stutter, closing your eyes tightly as you silently curse yourself for your nerves.

‘What’s your name?’ he asks beaming at you.

‘I’m Y/N and this is F/N.’ Gesturing to your friend, but she is completely distracted by Jared who is already engaged in a full blown conversation with her.

‘Y/N,’ he says quietly in his deep, sexy voice. Wow! It sounded even better than you ever imagined when you had fantasised about this moment. ‘I saw you in the crowd, you were sat at the front right?’ He asks.

‘Yes,’ you reply, ‘And you sang one of my favorite songs!’

‘I could tell by looking at you that you would be a rock chick,’ he responds, eyes travelling down your body, back up to your face, ‘girl after my own heart.’

You swallow hard, not quite believing you are having this conversation with him. ‘Look’ he says, putting his arm around you and pulling you towards him. He looks around conspiratorially, ‘I hate the fact we only get a few minutes to chat to everyone, and this is really not something I would normally do, but I can’t leave this town not having gotten to know you a little bit better.’

Your heart stops then quickly picks up its beat again. ‘Well, we are here for the weekend so if you have any down time....’ you say confidently, although inside you have turned to jelly.

Jensen turns away, reaches for a piece of paper and a pen, ‘Write your number down, quickly, before they move you long,’ he chuckles, handing them to you. You do as he asks. The photographer is growing impatient, so Jensen whispers 'How about photo of us?’ and slides his arm around your waist. You reach behind him and silently slip the paper with your number on into the back pocket of his jeans. You feel the swell of his fantastic ass under your hand as you do so and are amazed at how wonderful it feels.

He looks at you and winks, understanding what you have just done, and places his hand on your face, turning you to look at him just as the camera goes off. You smirk up at him, staring into his eyes, hoping this moment could last forever.

‘Can I text you later?’ he husks. All you can do is nod. He gives you a quick hug and steps away from you. You feel F/N grab your arm,shouting ‘Thanks guys you are amazing!’ as she pulls you away.

‘You are not going to believe what just happened!’ F/N squeals, jumping up and down on the spot.

‘Jared asked for your number?’ you ask.

‘How did you know?’

‘Because Jensen asked for mine too!’ You grin as you say it, still not believing it just happened ‘Don’t get too excited though,’ you warn F/N, ‘it doesn’t mean to say they will contact us.’

‘Come on,’ you say to F/N, ‘Let’s check out the expedition hall. I’m starving and there are food and drink stands there. Let’s grab something to eat.’

You're not really that hungry, but need to do something to occupy yourself and after that encounter with Jensen, you need some sugar. You make your way towards the hall, and wander around trying to decide what to get. There’s plenty on offer, and decide on a pancake with maple syrup, and a Diet Coke, hoping it will calm the butterflies that are zooming around in your stomach. F/N heads off to find somewhere to sit as you go to the stand to place your orders.

Tray in hand, you make your way through the crowd to the table she has found. Dropping down into the seat opposite F/N, you take a small bite of your food. It’s delicious, but your mouth is so dry you find it hard to swallow. You take a sip of the Diet Coke, and try to relax.

The first few bars of ‘Back in Black’ alerts you that you have a text, so you pull your phone from your back pocket.

‘Fucking hell!’ You almost drop it when you see the message. Jensen has actually texted you! What the fuck!? How are you going to respond?

‘Nnnooooo,’ F/N yells snatching the phone off you, almost choking on her pancake. ‘Oh my God Y/N. Answer him!’

You take the phone back off her and hand shaking, type a message back. The responses come thick and fast.

CHAPTER TWO

[jayankles]

That Snapback

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 441

Summary: Jensen decides to wear a hat on stage at a convention, it does nothing but kindle a spark inside of you.

Warnings:  mentions of late night rendezvous, mentions of a quickie, implied future public sex

Written for @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled: Public Sex

Also written for @iwantthedean ’s iwtd’s birthday challenge / iwtd’s jensen x hats challenge

Feedback is Gold and appreciated

NSFW IMAGE IN AESTHETIC BELOW

You always appreciated Jensen’s natural beauty, the freckles that danced across his face and the expanse of his body. His striking green eyes were a feature of his that he couldn’t control yet they were what he was remembered for, apart from his amazing acting of course.

Watching from the sidelines, you smiled as his cast mates came out onto the stage in front of the people that went to the convention to meet the cast.

Once Jensen followed Jared and Misha through the curtains, you bit your lip, eyes widening at his choice of attire. Jensen knew what he was doing. He smiled and waved to his fans but when he made eye contact with you, he winked; you narrowed your eyes. Damn, he knew what to do to rile you up and get you feeling some type of way.

His navy blue button down shirt clung to his chest, and him rolling up the sleeves helped to showcase his toned forearms but that wasn’t what you were staring at, no. It was the matching snapback he put on backwards, that snapback was what caught your attention and made your heart speed up and heat rise to your cheeks. You couldn’t look at him any longer, you had to look away as the images from last night’s saucy activities.

The guys had answered practically four out of twenty of the questions that they received but the crowd didn’t care, nor were they complaining since they got their convention dose of J2M antics.

Jensen hadn’t stopped smiling - well apart from when he was pretending to be a grumpy grouch - but it was your favourite smile, the one where he stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth and you could see it through his perfect, pearly white teeth. He was driving you insane, so much so that you glared at him when your eyes met, throwing daggers at him for good measure.

You couldn’t wait until the end of the convention so that you could repeat last nights actions and have your way with him, having him whimper under your ministrations with nothing but that snapback on.

Tonight, you would be the one who took control and made him feel the frustrations you felt throughout the day. Right now, though, all you could think about was a quickie in any secluded place that you could find.

That snapback. You had only bought it for him last weekend it already had enough memories within it to last a lifetime.

Ah, that snapback. It was going to be the death of you, no matter if Jensen wore it with clothes or not.

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[katymacsupernatural]

Stolen Tequila

Sam Winchester x Reader

1500 Words

Written For: MY Give Me 4 Challenge ( @evansrogerskitten) for @spngenrebingo and for @spnfluffbingo

Words: rainfall, cerulean, tequila, astonishment

Squares Filled: Friends to Lovers (Fluff) Summer Nights (GEnre)

Warnings: Drinking...

Standing at the window, you watched as the rain poured down in sheets. Already puddles formed on every available surface, cars splashing it up as they sped past. Thunder shook the thin glass, and you took a step back as lightning flashed in the park across from you.

“This is quite the storm,” you muttered, turning back into the room. Sam was lounging on the bed, his laptop closed and laying forgotten on his lap. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, and for a moment you wondered if he was asleep.

“I think we’ll be stuck here for a while,” he agreed, slowly opening one eye. “Too bad the TV is broken.”

Sitting down on the bed across from him, you frowned. “We could always pull up a movie on your laptop?”

He shook his head, tossing the laptop to the side. “Yeah, the wifi stopped working an hour ago. Think the lightning has messed with it.”

“So we’re stuck in this horrible room with no TV. No wifi. I didn’t bring a book, and I don’t think you did either.”

“Left mine in the Impala,” Sam grumbled. “And there is no way Dean is bringing the Impala back just to bring us our books.”

Huffing, you threw your legs onto the bed, leaning back. “So we have the craziest rainfall outside. We don’t have TV, wifi or anything else to keep us occupied except to sit and stare at these ugly stained, cerulean walls.”

“Did you just say cerulean?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t most normal people just say blue?”

Shrugging, you glanced over at the peeling blue wall, knowing at one time it had been beautiful. But time and neglect had turned the vibrant blue into spots of muck almost black in some spots. “Do you have any ideas?” You asked him, wondering if you should just go soak in the bathtub for a while. But you had taken a shower earlier that morning, and you weren’t sure you wanted to be around that dirty black grout any more than you had to.

“I did take this from Dean,” Sam announced, standing up and heading to his bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out a large bottle of ambered colored alcohol. “From his own personal stash of booze.”

“Tequila? Dean drinks Tequila?” You asked, standing up and taking the bottle from his hands. It was surprisingly a good brand, not one of the cheap kind that Dean usually bought. Glancing around, you found the plastic cups off to the side, and you quickly poured each of you a couple of fingers.

“To the rainstorm. And Dean for running off on us so he could have a night with...what’s her name again?”

“Stacia,” Sam answered, taking one cup from you, he clinked it against yours before downing it in one gulp. “Drink up.”

Hours later, you were staring at the empty bottle of tequila, the rain still pounding down outside. Your head felt fuzzy, your body heavy and awkward. You were currently laying on the bed, your feet propped on the headboard. Sam had his head resting on your belly, holding the bottle in the air so you could both see the last tiny drop inside. “Why didn’t ya steal two?” You slurred, closing your eyes for a moment, the steadily pouring rain outside lulling you.

“I didn’ think we’d be stuck inside while a biblical storm reigned outside,” he muttered, making you wonder if he was as drunk as you were.

“You should go buy another bottle,” you insisted, pushing on his shoulder. Only grunting, he turned on his side, his nose nestled against the warm flannel shirt you wore. You knew that sober you would be completely awkward about this. But drunk you? She enjoyed having Sam so close.

Reaching down, you ran your fingers through his hair, amazed that he let you. It was soft and silky and…, “Sam, where do you get your conditioner?”

“Hmm?” He asked, his eyes closed, looking like a cat that was getting petted.

Suddenly deciding to go get more tequila, you let go of Sam’s hair and stood up. Sam’s head fell to the mattress with a thud, and he turned to watch as you slipped your shoes on. “Where ya going?”

“To the liq...the liq..to get drinks,” you stuttered, smiling at him before you went to open the door.

“Y/N it’s raining!” He exclaimed like you didn’t already know that.

“I know,” you answered, stepping out into the warm summer rain, shutting the door behind you. Missing the fact that you didn’t have keys, or a wallet, or anything. Forgetting about the liquor store, you raised your head to the sky, already soaking wet in the short time you had been outside.

Puddles had formed everywhere, and you skipped out to the parking lot, jumping into the deepest one you could find. Giggling, you spun around as lightning flashed down.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Sam asked you, following you outside, his hair already plastered to his head.

Spinning to face him, you raised your arms up. “What does it look like? I’m dancing in the rain!”

“That’s better than singing,” he teased. “You have a horrible singing voice.”

Pouting, you shook your head. “I do not.”

“Do too,” he argued. “Now get back inside before you get hit by lightning.”

“Make me,” you insisted childishly. Sam came forward, and you were about ready to race past him, when he reached out, grasping you by the waist and pulling you tight against him. Tilting your head up, you could see he was staring down at you.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, the alcohol bolstering your courage.

Shaking his head, his wet hair smacked against his cheek. “No, you’re drunk.”

“Fine,” you muttered. Standing up on your tiptoes, you brushed your lips against his. Sam stood still for a moment before wrapping his arms tighter around you, deepening the kiss. Suddenly the world spun as he picked you up in his arms. Carrying you through the puddles, he stepped back into the hotel room, dropping you on the bed.

“Strip,” he ordered.

“Oooh,” you said, moving to stand up, but he had already turned around to grab a towel from the rack. Throwing your wet shirt and pants his way, you caught the towel he handed you. “Dry off, cool off, and we can talk about this in the morning?”

“Talk about what?”

“That kiss, and….other things,” he promised as you slid under the covers. Yawning, you closed your eyes, immediately falling into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

The sun slipped through the blinds, waking you up. Grumbling, you turned to the side, only to find an arm holding you in place, Taking a moment to unfog your brain, you slowly looked up to see a sleeping Sam holding you tight. Quickly glancing down, you gasped as you realized you were naked. “What…,” you whispered, wracking your mind about the events of last night. Trying to remember exactly what had happened. You remember the rain, and tequila and…

“Morning,” Sam whispered against your neck, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Sam, what happened?” You asked, grabbing the sheet and pulling it around you as you scrambled off the bed. “Last night...did we…?”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he patted the bed that you had just left. “Come back to bed and we can talk.”

“No, I can’t. Not until...not until I know,” you whispered.

“Y/N, we didn’t do anything. You were drunk, and I didn’t want to take advantage.”

Wrinkling your nose, you stared at the unused bed beside yours. “Then why are you in my bed?”

“Actually this is my bed. Your bed was soaking wet, so we shared. Nothing more.”

“Oh,” you whispered, somewhat disappointed.

Reaching over, he grasped your hand. “But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Y/N, that kiss last night. It was amazing, and I was wondering if…,”

“If what?”

“Well, if you wanted to do that. And maybe more,” he stuttered, turning slightly red. “I just know how hard the hunting life is, and I thought maybe we could help each other out.”

“Like friends with benefits?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You know what? Forget I said anything. It’s stupid.”

“But what if I can’t just be friends with benefits? What if I want more?”

He shrugged. “We can deal with that if, and when it happens.”

Throwing caution to the wind, you dropped your sheet to the ground, nervously awaiting Sam’s response. Astonishment shown in his eyes before he was standing up, pulling you into his arms.

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[tinkdw]

Hullo, speaking of your wishlist..: I know you think Sam should be himself more via his wardrobe but do you have an example of what you would like to see Sam wearing? (like the purple dog shirt but more grown up?) Crack example would be the weird hippy stuff Jared sometimes wears! Lol

Hi! Sorry this took me ages to respond!

Yeah, so in earlier seasons Sam basically ate what he wanted and wore kinda wacky shirts… this for me is a part of showing his agency, his own personality and choices. This then got hugely muted after season 4′s terrible choice and him taking the backseat and allowing Dean to take the lead, then dressing like Dean and going into his clean eating habit to “cleanse” his guilt. 

So yeah I’d love to see more of this back and we have! Already in season 12 when he was already reclaiming his agency, culminating in 12x22 we got his orange jacket that made everyone be like ?! everyone noticed and commented on it, and @elizabethrobertajones totally needs it for Christmas by the way ;) 

I’d love him to just wear some stuff a bit more like the old days again, just stuff that’s not reminiscent of Dean you know? Not the purple dog t shirt as such cos he’s not a 00s student anymore but a grown adult… but some bright random coloured plaid that totally mismatches his orange jacket but fuck it he likes it.

Also gimme Dean commenting on his outfit not matching and Sam like, so? Just… yeah. I want it :)

[youmightbeanidiotif]

The necklace they’re talking about is Jensen’s St. Christopher medal, the custom one Danneel gave him after the small one from his grandmother IIRC got lost or stolen, they made up a bunch of fanfiction about how it was seekritly about his seekrit relationship with Misha and how it’s a seekrit symbol of their true lurve. XD

As for the shirts, no, neither of the shirts Misha was wearing Saturday or Sunday are anything like the red plaid or black tee or dark blue/gray jacket Dean wore on the bridge.

Misha @ CharCon Sat. & Sun.:

Jared/Sam and Jensen/Dean in the 15.20 bridge scene:

But then, we been knew that cockles stans are lying liars who lie. XD

Stayed up to watch the J2 panels and in my sleep deprived state, decided to check a major heller misinformer blog to see how they were coping. Unsurprisingly there was zilch from the J2 panels. Hadn't yet found a way to twist their words I guess. There was the usual freak out about MC's baiting, "Mish", something called a "c*ckles necklace" that Jensen was apparently wearing in ops(? Do you know what that is?), and how "in love" JA/MC were in paid photo ops. Living on crumbs basically. 1/2

Plus some obligatory JP hate posts. One for not wearing a mask while walking, and not a peep about JA doing the same. But something they said caught my eye. They were saying the shirt MC wore yesterday is the same as Dean's in the finale bridge scene. From the pics of MC and Dean they posted it looks the same but I wouldn't put it past them to have altered the pics in some way. What do you think? MC might not be beyond stealing from the show's wardrobe in order to feed the baboons. 2/2

*****************************************

I have no idea what the necklace thing is about. Though it wouldn't be the first time they've attributed some random jewelry or wardrobe item to them being in lurve when it was some kind of gift multiple members of the cast got, Jensen giving Misha shit he was getting rid of, or just some weird fanfic one of them wrote making it ~*significant*~ for reasons. As to the shirt, I wouldn't put it past Misha to either steal something from the wardrobe or intentionally buy and wear something similar, but it's such a nondescript dark colored button up shirt it could absolutely just be their imaginations running wild again.

Misha could run over their dog and they'd thank him, there's always some reason Jensen doesn't really mean anything he says or does, but Jared basically breathes and they're like HOW FUCKING DARE. It'd be comical if it didn't turn so fucking vicious all too often.

The photo op thing always cracks me up, though. These are actors who are paid to fake emotion and these weirdo shippers are literally paying them to do specific poses and trying to imply that's the actors being in twue lurve? That whole fiction/reality thing really is completely beyond them in all kinds of ways.

[kmp78]

In that “time to go home” snap of Fakery looks like she’s wearing JL’s plaid shirt. - Nice try , shipper . But try harder. Because is it true that other girls have REALLY wore his shirts. Sasha, JC, Halsey. Even Zedd already wore Jared's coat . And these shirts are easy to find and any man wears. Jared loves sharing his bacteria with his thots .

I wonder which hag gave him the bug that destroyed his vocal chords...(http://kmp78.tumblr.com/post/147887250529/disclaimer-and-rules)