#jensensjaredsandmishaslover's answers

[scarlettwitcher]

will u write a part 2 of Daddy, with smut? 😍😍😍

I wasn't planning on writing a part 2 but my girl @queenxxxsupreme was really convincing so it's now in queue with all of my WIPs 💕

Read Daddy here!

[impalaimagining]

Its an a/b/o of Jensen and reader, that's really the summary of it, and maybe distress and longing, like you're anxious for someone, like you miss that person so much it cause you to freak, and could it kinda be blueish? Idk how to ask these I've never asked for one before lol

I hope this is okay!

[mermaidxatxheart]

Surprise

This is my submission for @wkemeup‘s writing challenge. Congratulations on the milestone, love!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 1143

Warnings: Swearing. If you think I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: You try to get away with something, but Bucky catches you in the act.

Writing Prompt: This isn’t what it looks like

The phone rings while you wait impatiently. 

 “Barnes.” The deep voice on the other end picks up. He must have answered without looking. He’s usually happier to hear from you. 

“Hi, handsome. Quick question.” You start, aiming for casual. 

 “Alright.” He prompts. 

 “Where are you?” 

 “At the compound. Sam and I are planning our next mission. Why?”

 “So you plan on being there for a good while?” You ask innocently. 

 “Yeah, probably.”

 “Okay. I was thinking about making lasagna for dinner. I know it’s your favorite.” You tell him, hoping he’ll take the bribe. 

 He groans quietly. “You’re so good to me.” 

 “I know.” You smile to yourself. “I’ll see you later, lover. Say hi to Sam for me.”

 “I absolutely will not. He doesn’t deserve it.” Bucky says. 

 “Hey, Y/N! What’s good, girl?” 

 “No, don’t answer him.” Bucky sighs.

 “Hey, Sammy. Wanna come over for dinner?”

 “No!” Bucky groans. 

 “Yes!” Sam says. 

 “Great. I’ll see you two much much later.” You say, hanging up. You look down at the basket at your feet. “That went well.” You nod, lifting the basket into the backseat of your car. “Okay. I need you guys to behave.” You say to the mix-matched collection of small dogs. 

  The trip to the home you share with Bucky is relatively short. Not a whole lot of traffic way out here in the country and Bucky kind of likes that, so you don’t mind it. 

 You manage to usher all eight of the dogs inside and they are loving their new home. They’re trying to escape and go sniff everything, but you have to figure out where to hide them for a surprise for Bucky. 

 “Okay, puppies. Into the food pantry.” You herd them that way and start to shut the door, but then change your mind. “That’s no good, he’ll see you all there. He eats so much.” You sigh and start corralling them towards the coat closet. 

 “No way you’re all going to fit in there.” You groan. Curse Bucky and his ridiculous coat collection. 

 You steer them towards the bedroom and they all jump on the bed. “No no no no no!” You whine, but then you hear tires in the driveway.

 “No! Damn it, Barnes.” You groan and grab the nearest dog and set her gently in the closet, nudging the door closed while you try to get the rest. 

 There isn’t time! He’s coming up the stairs!! You grab the comforter and fling it out over the dogs, covering them. 

 You sit on the settee at the end and cross your legs, a perfect picture of innocence. Behind you, you can hear the dogs getting restless, and you feel like you’re missing something glaringly obvious, but for the life of you, you can’t think of what it is. 

 The door opens slowly and you fling your arms out, hoping to disguise the dog-shaped mounds on the bed. “You’re home early!” You cry and then your eyes fall on Sam.

 Bucky

 “What’s that?” Sam asks, looking behind you. 

 “Nothing.” You reply instantly and Bucky raises an eyebrow. You’re way too eager to hide whatever is moving on your bed.

 “Babe?”

 “Yes?” You look at him.

 He rolls his eyes and walks around you. You scramble up to stop him but Sam catches you around the waist. Bucky rips the comforter off the bed to reveal five dogs. He stares, completely dumbfounded. 

 “This isn’t what it looks like!!” You shout and they both look at you. “Surprise.” You mumble weakly. 

 God love you. 

 “Where did you get five dogs?”

 Your eyes widen as you look at them. “Shit!! I’m missing two!” You wiggle free and open the closet door, letting the poor dog free. 

 “Now one, right?” Sam asks and you shake your head, scratching the pupper’s ears. He licks your face happily, already loving you.

 “You got eight dogs?” Bucky asks incredulously.

 “I had to! Help me find them?” You bat your eyelashes at him and he groans. 

 “Fine. But then they’re going back.” He says, heading down the stairs. 

 “Bucky, no!” You rush after him. 

 “Sweetheart, we can’t keep eight dogs.” He says, his sentence trailing off as he looks around the living room, his favorite blue jacket inching along the floor. 

 “We have to.” You insist, heading for the coat. Just as you’re about to pick it up, a small head pokes out the end of the sleeve. He looks around and up at you, and you can see his tail wagging happily under the coat. 

 “Why do we have to?” Bucky asks as you free the doggo from the coat and scoop him up in your arms.

 “Because no one else took them and they reached the end of their time in the shelter.” You say, your voice wavering slightly. You nuzzle your face into the soft fur and Bucky sighs.

 How is he supposed to tell you no when you’re crying?

 “Sam, you want a dog or two?” Bucky offers.

 “You’re still missing one.” Sam reminds him. 

 “We were in the kitchen.” You offer and Bucky makes his way in there, looking around. He hears a scraping noise in one of the lower cabinets and he opens the door where the big stand mixer is. There’s a small dog sitting in the big bowl, just looking at him with the most trusting brown eyes he’s ever seen. He lets out a laugh and twists the bowl free. 

 “Found him.” He calls. He makes his way back into the living room, carrying the bowl with the little head poking out. Little dude is just along for the ride. 

 “Hi, handsome!” You scratch his ears happily. 

 Bucky looks around at your new friends, and he’s seeing the things that made you want to take them in the first place. 

 One dog is missing a leg, another is going blind. A few are older, the grey in their whiskers standing out against their dark fur. They’ve been abandoned, discarded for not being babies, or being broken, maybe too rambunctious. But you, you see the beauty in everything. Even the broken souls around you. 

 “Okay.” He says, looking from the dogs to you. 

 “Yeah?” You clasp your hands together around the furball in your arms. 

 “Yeah.” He turns to Sam. “Sorry, offer’s been rescinded.” He says, running his fingers through the soft fur. 

 “Damn, I like this little guy.” He says, leaning down to scratch one on the belly.

 Bucky looks down at you, his eyes softening as he realizes how rich his life has become. “Any other shelters around here?” He asks, already picturing the building in the back he can construct as a playroom for all the animals you could possibly want.

 Your eyes light up and you barely manage to contain a squeal. “As a matter of fact...”

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[queenxxxsupreme]

#86 and Geralt from your prompt list, please! Thank you darling! 🥰

You brushed your fingers through Geralt’s hair, humming softly. You sat up in bed with your back against the headboard. A book was in your other hand. You used the light coming from the candle on the nightstand next to your side of the bed.

The witcher was laying in the dead center of the bed on his stomach. One of his arms were wrapped around your legs, holding them close to his chest. His cheek rested on your thigh.

He’d fallen asleep some time ago and you did your best to keep him asleep. The White Wolf often times struggled to sleep peacefully through the night. Rest was a luxury he didn’t have.

You noticed how his grip on you tightened, his arms constricting around your legs like snakes.

You put the book down for a second to watch him. His brows were furrowed together and that permanent wrinkle of discontent rested between his brows.

You gently swiped a few pieces of his white hair from his forehead and tucked them safely behind his ear.

A growl vibrated within his chest, deep and intimidating. His upper lip curled into a quiet snarl.

He was dreaming. Whatever it was about, it wasn’t good.

You shifted a little and put the book down on the nightstand. You placed your hand on Geralt’s shoulder, gently shaking him.

“Geralt? Love?”

His breathing stilled at the sound of your voice. While your fingers feathered across his bare shoulder, you watched him closely. He took a deep breath and his eyes opened slowly.

“Hi there, love.” You smiled down at him. “You’re holding me a bit tight.”

His arms immediately released you and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. You kept your hand on his arm, not wanting him to wander too far from you. You shifted around to sit on your knees right next to him.

“Talk to me, love.” You brushed his hair back, your eyes following your hand before they found his amber gaze. “You dreamt of something.”

A grown slowly etched into his lips. His hand came up, massive and calloused, and cupped your jaw. His thumb brushed over the deep scar that cut through the corner of your lips.

You breathed in slowly, your eyes fluttering shut and goosebumps erupting across your skin. You leaned into his touch, relishing in the way his rough palm felt against your soft skin.

When you opened your eyes, you found him staring at the scars littering the right side of your face. They webbed from the middle of the side of your neck, all the way up your jaw, and disappeared into your hairline above your right eye. It looked like lightning, the way the scars webbed across your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’re still having dreams of what happened.” You murmured gently, knitting your brows together. “It’s been six months.”

“I think about that day every second I breathe.” He spoke lowly. The pain and guilt in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Six months ago, you were gravely injured by a werewolf. The witcher arrived just in time to assist you in fighting the beast that dared to attack you-the witcher’s lover. In the midst of the battle, Geralt was thrown into the side of your brick house, dazed and disoriented. While he was picking himself off of the ground, you were forced to face the monster. You did well holding it off with your own sword but it bested you and tore the side of your face, practically killing you. The only reason you healed so quickly was because you were a mage.

You watched Geralt with saddened eyes. You knew how he carried guilt about nearly everything bad that happened to you. It was his duty to protect you and when harm came to you, he saw it as a failure on his part.

“I can’t lose you.” His voice cracked. You reached your hand up to brush the back of your fingers over his cheek. His breathing trembled and you could see the tears welling in his amber eyes.

“There’s no need to shed those tears, love. I’m not going anywhere.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek and then the corner of his lips.

His hand slipped around the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He held you close to him, your foreheads pressed together.

“I’m afraid, dove.” His breath fanned against your face. “Afraid to lose you.”

Moments like this were a rarity. The mighty witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, rarely allowed anyone to see him so vulnerable, so exposed. You were the only one he allowed to see him at his weakest, but even then he tried to keep his hard, stoic persona.

You took his other hand that wasn’t holding the back of your head and placed it on your cheek, unfurling his fingers and making him press his palm flat to your cheek.

“Don’t be afraid, my love.” You opened your eyes to watch him. His were closed tightly. “I’m right here.”

He kissed you softly, gently, then pulled away and let out a heavy breath. Your eyes lingered on his, a smile forming on your lips.

“Are you ready to go back to sleep?”

“No.” He answered. The corner of his lips turned up just slightly. “But I won’t object to laying with you.”

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[iwantthedean]

A Christmas Surprise

True Fluff Series

Word Count:  Summary: A new chapter starts for you and Dean.  Warnings: None?  A/N: I remember when I first had the idea for this series. It was the first time someone asked to be tagged in any of my fics. It was the first series to get over 100 notes on a post. It was the first of many things where this blog is concerned, actually. And now, here we are, at the end. Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Merry Christmas, Merry Everything :)  

As you dusted off the shelves in the living room, you stopped at the trifold frame of the family pictures taken at the beginning of the month. The snow was freshly fallen, you and your boys were in coordinating outfits, and even Benny had smiled enough to get some good shots. 

Thinking back to two years and a few weeks before today, when Mandy had first tried to convince you to go on that blind date with Dean, you never would have thought this was where your life would be now. Maybe you had been slow to allow yourself to admit it, but Dean had been The One from the first time you laid eyes on him in that restaurant. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Your thoughts were interrupted by the very object of them. Dean’s cologne invaded your senses as his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. 

You let out a contented sigh. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come. Two years ago, after the first twelve dates, there was so much ahead of us. There still is, but it’s been a busy two years.”

“That it has,” Dean agreed, kissing your cheek. “Benny’s napping and I’m ready to go — why don’t you let me finish this cleaning, and you go take your time getting ready?”

“I wish I could, but there’s still a couple side dishes I need to get in the oven and —”

Dean pressed his lips to yours, interrupting your excuses. “Pretty girl, I’m here to help you. And you know if we’re not ready to eat right when everyone gets here, it’s not a big deal. C’mon now, you don’t get hardly enough time for yourself anymore.”

“And it’s only going to be less,” you mumbled, handing the duster over to your husband. 

“What’d you say?”

You shrugged and smiled. “Nothing. Thanks for the help. I’ll try not to be too long.”

Before you could get too far, Dean swatted you lightly on the rear with the duster you yelped, then quickly covered your mouth. Both of you paused for a moment, not even blinking, waiting to see if you had woken the baby. 

“You got lucky, woman,” Dean chuckled when no cries were heard. 

“You told me to take my time getting ready, Sparky. He’d be your responsibility then,” you teased back.

* * * * *

While Y/N showered and got herself ready for all of the family coming to invade the house in a couple of hours, Dean finished up the cleaning and got started on boiling and grating potatoes for the funeral potatoes. Frozen hashbrowns were just as good, Dean had assured his wife, but she had insisted on freshly grated ones for today, since it was a special occasion. In the last few weeks, she had been so adamant about having things a certain way — the holidays were doing a number on her this year. 

Just as he was putting the grated potatoes in the fridge to cool for a while, the phone rang. He hurried to answer it before the loud trill woke Benny. A cranky baby at a family function was no fun; Dean had learned that early on. 

“Sammy, what’s up?” Dean greeted, checking what else was on Y/N’s to-do list that he could maybe get started on for her. 

“Hey, Jess’s parents are down with the flu — do you mind if Caitlin and Jeremy join?”

“Not at all. The more the merrier, right? Y/N’s got gifts for them and the twins, anyway.”

Sam thanked Dean for being so flexible, then the brothers ended the call. While Dean went to work on the next thing, he thought about all of the kids — Eli, Hunter, Benny, the twins — playing together while the adults sat around and chatted. The twins were just about in the middle of Hunter and Benny, so having them all together usually worked out nicely. 

When Y/N came down, ready to finish tackling her hostess preparation duties, Dean took the potatoes out of the fridge to finish putting the casserole together, and informed her about the extra guests. 

Immediately, she began to panic. “What if we don’t have enough food? Are they going to feel awkward around everyone? Should I change the sheets on the guest bed in case they need to sleep over?”

Dean chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “Babe, why are you freaking out? There’s plenty of food, there always is. They’ve been around the rest of our family before. Why would they need to sleep over? They don’t live very far, the weather is fine. You’ve got to take a deep breath. You love Christmas — what’s got you so pent up this year? Is it something I did?”

She swallowed so hard, Dean could almost here it. “Not — not exactly.”

He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not exactly?”

Y/N looked anywhere but at him. He hooked a finger under her chin and directed her attention back to him. 

“‘Fess up, pretty girl.”

With a sigh, Y/N pulled away from from his hand and went into the front room. When she returned, she handed Dean a small, flat package. The wrapping paper was a green plaid, and there was a gold bow stuck to the top corner. The tag read, ‘To: Daddy’, but the ‘From’ had been left blank. 

Wondering how any present from Benny could have been the cause of his wife’s tension, Dean tore into the package. He opened the lid to the box. Nestled carefully into white tissue paper was a positive pregnancy test and a framed sonogram. Above the picture was the caption, ‘And then there were four …’

Dean set the box on the table, then took out the frame and stared at it. He remembered the first time he had seen Benny on an ultrasound; he was sure that nothing would ever take his breath away quite like that first peek at his firstborn. In this moment, however, Dean was breathless and speechless. 

“Really?”

Y/N’s eyes watered with tears. “Yeah. I know it’s sooner than we planned, so I was going to get through tonight then give that to you, but this seemed like as good a time as any.”

“When do you think …?”

She let out a deep breath. “Sometime around Halloween, I think. I’m about nine weeks. Due around Fourth of July.”

Dean set the frame down and pulled his wife into his arms. He remembered the first time he had hugged her, and about every moment in between. Each of those moments had made his life better and better. He removed his hands from around her to kiss her before kneeling down to kiss her abdomen. 

“Another baby,” he whispered to himself. “More feedings, more diapers … I still can’t wait.”

She smiled and blinked out a few happy tears. Dean stood and wiped them away before hugging her around the shoulders again. 

“I’m glad you’re happy and excited. I was a little worried,” she confessed. Y/N looked up at him, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Merry Christmas, Sparky.”

“Merry Christmas, pretty girl,” Dean returned, leaning down to kiss her. 

* * * * * * * * * *

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[whitewolfandthefox]

The Language of Love

Prompt: #someone write me a geraskier fic where geralt is trying to get information and doesnt speak the language #and then jaskier casually converses with the witness #and translates for geralt #meanwhile geralt is like hm #but internally hes all wtf?????

Summary: Geraskier fic. Jaskier comes to the rescue when Geralt runs into a language barrier during a hunt. Based on this post

A/N. Just a little drabble for @riviawitch3r! They posted about this a while back and it's been bouncing around in my brain. I’ve never written Geraskier before, so hopefully it comes through!

Add yourself to my taglist here!

Masterlist

The Language of Love

Geralt was fucking frustrated. He had been fighting a pack of werewolves, and one had gotten away. Jaskier had gotten a little too close to the fight and one of the creatures had gone after him. Geralt, in his panic, had abandoned the monster he had been fighting in favour of taking out the one near Jaskier, but ended up losing the alpha. The contract had specified that the alpha had to be taken out; if it wasn’t it would just move to a new area and start a new pack by turning unsuspecting humans.

Two days later, Geralt was cold and wet, having followed the werewolf to this town. Knowing it was hiding in the woods and wouldn’t appear until night, he had stopped at an inn, requesting a room for the night and a hot meal for himself and the bard. The innkeeper didn’t speak a language that Geralt knew, so they struggled to communicate but eventually figured it out.

Jaskier had been quiet ever since the attack. Geralt knew he felt bad that the alpha had gotten away, but he had no idea how to make sure Jaskier knew it wasn’t his fault. He had tried to comfort the bard but his gruff manner and lack of words made it hard.

Just as Geralt was opening his mouth to try again, unable to stand the uncomfortable silence that was so unusual from the bard, the door to the inn burst open.

“Varúlfar! Það eru varúlfar í bænum!” A man came running in, blood streaming from his shoulder. He stumbled as he tried to stop, collapsing against the bar. His chest heaved as his eyes flashed, gibberish continuing to fall from his mouth.

From the man’s injuries and terror, Geralt inferred that it was likely the werewolf he had been hunting. Varúlfar, werewolf. That was one of the few words that Geralt knew. Standing, Geralt approached the man as the crowd around them scattered. He knelt next to the man, golden eyes piercing as he stared at him.

“Varúlfar?” Geralt asked. The man nodded frantically.

“Það var á jaðri bæjarins, ég var ráðist!” The man gabbled, hand latching onto a strap on Geralt’s armour. “Mikið loðin dýra, það var það. Enginn eins og ég hef séð áður.”

“Slower, please, I can’t understand you.” Geralt was growing frustrated at the lack of communication. He knew it was the beast he was hunting, but had no idea where he could find it. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Geralt growled, turning to berate the poor villager who had tried to interrupt him only to see Jaskier standing there, concern in his eyes.

“Let me try, Geralt.” Jaskier murmured. “I might be able to help.”

Standing, Geralt gestured at the man. “Be my guest.” Turning, he stalked a few meters away as Jaskier took his place on the floor.

“Varúlfur? Hvar sástu það?” Jaskier asked, voice soft as he tried to soothe the distressed man.

Geralt stared.

“Já já já. Í norðurhlið þorpsins var þetta mikið dýr.” Latching onto someone who was able to understand him and would listen, he continued. “Það reyndi að fara á eftir börnunum, ég myndi ekki láta það vera.”

Turning to look at Geralt, Jaskier translated. “The werewolf went after some children on the northern side of the village.”

He grunted. “Ask him if it was just the one.”

As Jaskier turned back to the victim, Geralt was in disbelief. Since when did Jaskier speak Íslensku? He thought back to all of the times he would have trouble communicating with the locals in his travels and Jaskier would just sweep in with the answers. Had he been multilingual this whole time? Fuck, that would have made so many missions easier. He really needed to stop underestimating his bard.

Tuning back in, Geralt listened to the rest of the information Jaskier translated for him before gruffly telling Jaskier, “Stay here.”

Leaving the man once a healer arrived, Jaskier moved to where Geralt was preparing for the fight. Jaskier stretched up on his toes to place a kiss on Geralt’s cheek.

“Be careful,” he whispered, stepping back to allow Geralt out of the inn. The taller man stared down at him before nodding, brushing a gentle hand over the other’s cheek as he turned to exit the inn into the rain.

**~*~*~*~**

Later that night, after Geralt had returned from a successful hunt, the two were curled up in front of a fire. After Geralt had returned, the innkeeper had insisted on upgrading the two of them to a larger room, refusing any payment in return. Again, Geralt was astounded by the ease with which Jaskier was able to communicate, fluent in the language.

The smaller man looked up at him, “What are you so pensive about tonight?”

Geralt looked down, eyes soft. “I didn’t know you were fluent in Íslensku.”

Jaskier frowned. “I did go to Oxenfurt for four years, love. I had the opportunity to study a great many languages.”

Geralt lifted himself onto a forearm to stare at the man next to him. “Just how many languages do you know, Jaskier?”

“How many? That’s a good question.” He lifted a hand to tick off the languages as he listed them. “Common speech, Íslensku, Dwarvish, Nilfgaardian, Gnomish. There are also a great many dialects, did you want me to list those as well?”

When he received no response, he looked up at Geralt, who was staring. “Geralt?” he prodded the man. “Are you still with me?”

Geralt shook his head before laying back down, tugging the bard with him to tuck him into his chest. “I always forget you are so much more intelligent than I am. My educated bard.”

Squirming so he could see Geralt’s face, Jaskier poked at him. “Don’t say that, love, you are just as intelligent as me. Just in different ways.”

Geralt hummed, threading his hand through Jaskier’s hair to tug his head back down, stroking his other hand down his spine. Jaskier snuggled in closer, sighing as the warmth from his Witcher enveloped him. “I will just have to teach you then, make you just as smart as me.”

Geralt smiled softly, “I would love that.”

**~*~*~*~**

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[mrswhozeewhatsis]

Getting to know me

I was tagged by @mummybear and @crashdevlin and @wingedcatninja and I’m gonna try to spit some of this out before I head to bed. Love you girls!

Not gonna tag anyone because I’m a bitch that way. Tag yourself, dudes!

Nickname: So many...from start to current: Mickey, Misha, Mishy, SheDragon (SheD for short), Fairy Godmother (to my godkids), and @manawhaat calls me Saint Michelle (and she’s my cupcake).

Real Name: Michelle (I also answer to “Mrs.....????” which is how Mrs. Whozeewhatsis became a thing, and Elaine, which is a long story.)

Zodiac: Sun in Sagittarius, Moon in Libra, Year of the Tiger. (I had to look most of that up, and the Libra moon meaning thing had a startling accuracy to it.)

Favorite musicians/bands: Too many. Let’s just list the obvious: everyone remotely related to SPN, plus Ed Sheeran, Sara Bareilles, and more.

Favorite sports teams: ????? Sports??? What is this “sports” you speak of? *yells in the background where her mother and BFF are watching football (Go, Eagles!)

Other blogs: 

@oxfordcommalover - Where I was putting my fanfiction and writing stuff until I decided to let my freak flag fly and keep it all here. I’ve got some post over there that I still reference, though, so I haven’t ditched it.

@mrswhozeewhatsiswrites - My library blog, or masterlist blog for my writing.

@jaredquestions @jensenquestions @mishaquestions - Blogs I created because everyone wanted them, but then they never took off. They are related to the Twitter handles I created, too.

@spnfanficpond I’m an admin there, trying to do whatever I can to encourage other writers!

Do I get asks: Not too often. Sometimes. I’d love to get more!

How many blogs do I follow: 384 (I just culled some inactive blogs.)

Tumblr crushes: We would be here all day and I would break the post. Y’all know I love you. This is what xkit says, though:

peridottea91

jensensjaredsandmishaslover

waywardjoy

wingedcatninja

deanwanddamons

wi-deangirl77

negans-lucille-tblr

kittensfiction

notnaturalanahi

(I just read a long series by peridottea91, which is why she’s #1. I really expected Rhi and Bee to be closer to the top since they write so much and I read so much of what they write!)

Lucky numbers: Just one, and it’s 9.

What am I wearing: Jammies. If I’m at home, I’m wearing jammies.

Dream vacation: Have a huge RV that probably qualifies as glamping and just drive all around the country visiting friends and family and seeing stuff. It would take about a year. I’d spend a week or four in NOLA in the winter, and the same in New England in the summer. We’d hit Austin, for sure, too. I’d need a driver to take care of the RV, and a friend to go with me to have fun. To do this, I’d be independently wealthy, so we’re also gonna stop at every SPN con. After that vacation is done, then I’d look into going overseas and hitting up SPN cons over there, and some other stuff like visiting my husband’s family in Sweden and stuff. 

Favorite food: It changes and I go through phases of craving things, but the one thing I will always want, and I will never turn down, no matter what, is pie.

Drink of choice: I drink a lot of water because it’s got no calories and quenches thirst. I used to be a Mt. Dew junkie. Alcoholic? Anything sweet, really. I recently had a Peach Moscato that was a little tingly on the tongue and I LOVED IT. Sadly, it kept me up at night. I don’t understand that.

Instruments: I’m assuming we’re talking musical and not, like, surgical? I used to play piano. Badly. I used to sing. Not so badly. Now it’s all Caraoke and shower concerts.

Languages: I speak a handful of words in Swedish, Spanish, and German. Enough that I might be able to find a bathroom and count to ten. Otherwise, it’s all English, baby!

Celebrity crushes: Like y’all don’t know this already because you follow me? I don’t think I’ve hidden any. Ones that might not show up on this blog as often: Nathan Fillion, NPH, John Barrowman, David Tennant, Eoin Macken....and then @manawhaat​ dragged me into Henry Cavill and @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ keeps shoving me into the Chris Hemsworth dumpster, but I know very little about them or their lives outside what I’ve seen them in. Oh, and I spent all of Wonder Woman thinking Gal Gadot is amazing and questioning my lack of interest in kissing women.

Random facts: I have the stuff to do all kinds of crafty projects (scrapbooking, jewelry-making, knitting, embroidery, etc etc etc), and keep buying more, but haven’t organized it or really done much with it for several years (and several moves), so I have ALL THIS STUFF to do ALL THIS COOL SHIT, but it’s all packed away and I can’t find any of it and I spend all my time on Tumblr doing posts like these. My goal in life is eventually be completely unpacked in my house, and to figure out how to balance my time so I get to do more things like photography and writing and crafting and DIY house stuff and less time staring at piles of boxes and feeling overwhelmed. Oh, and I absolutely LOVE putting together furniture, like from IKEA or wherever. Like, that shit RELAXES me.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

The thunder rolls

The song “Thunder rolls” by Garth Brooks popped up in my playlist, and this story appeared in my head. Hope you like it: I’ll be very happy if you tell me so, too. 

Warning: this is a sad one.

Word count: 765

It’s three thirty in the morning. The road is empty except for the black car speeding towards the sleepy buildings. The rain pours down, making the town even more ghostly than usual.

The Impala’s engine echoes the thunder rolling between the surrounding mountains. Mud stains the door and windows. He keeps the wipers on full, but it’s not working. His face is stone, but his vision is blurred.

You’re waiting by the window, watching the wind whip around the corner. The young tree in the front yard is almost bent double. It’s impossible to sleep. They’ve been gone for far too long. It was supposed to be an easy case, two-three days at most, but the second week is nearing its end, and it’s been days since you heard anything from them.

The draft from the window sends chills up your arms, and you pull the worn flannel you’ve stolen from Sam tighter around you, hugging yourself and inhaling the comforting scent that still lingers in the shirt. It does nothing to ease the feeling that something is wrong.

He fiddles with the volume button, turning the music on and off. Normally, some Zeppelin would help him wind down after a long, strenuous hunt, but not today. Every song is a stab in the heart, and he fights the tears that pool in his eyes.

“All my love” flows through the speakers, and he presses eject so hard he’s pretty sure he just ruined the cassette. Silence settles in the car. It’s agony. He can’t bear it; the unsettling quiet and loneliness that allow his emotions to bloom and tear his mind to shreds. A bolt of lightning flashes over the sky, closely followed by a low rumble.

You’re pacing the living room, glancing at the phone on the table. You’ve called both of them more times than you can remember – but they’re not picking up. Snatching the phone up, you open the last text from Sam, from three days ago. “Just got a new lead. Should be done by tonight. Love you. Miss you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, a half strangled sob that escaped from the painful lump in you chest. Clutching the phone to your cheek, you pray for a miracle, a sign of life, anything.

As the road turns around the corner, he sees the lights. Every window shines through the trees, and he speeds up just a little bit. So close, yet he dreads the meeting.

The house sits at the end of the road, well hidden, a sanctuary for hunters; home for the Winchesters when they need it.

He swallows hard and glances in the rear view mirror. His stomach turns, and he locks his eyes on the house in the distance.

Raindrops run down the window, and you chase them with your eyes, just like you used to do when you were little. There’s a soft knock on the door. Your heart skips a beat, and you practically leap across the floor and tear it open.

Dean opens his arms, and engulfs you in a hug that you never want to emerge from. “Thank god you’re alive!” you mutter into his chest.

He kisses the top of your head, and sighs. “Yeah.” His voice cracks.

Looking up, you finally see the tears streaming down his face. “What…” You look over his shoulder, expecting Sam to stand there, impatiently tapping his foot, waiting to get out of the rain. Another thunder rolls. Dread settles in your heart. “Dean, where is Sam?”

He can’t bring himself to answer. His eyes flicks between you and the lamp behind you.

A new scent hits your nose. It’s metallic, like rust, and your stomach sinks to the floor. “Dean?”

He just shakes his head, holds you tight in his arms. Afraid that if he lets go, he will not be able to stay on his feet. The lighting flashes in your eyes, and he knows that you know.

You scream. He holds you tighter. Struggling to free yourself, you pound his chest with weak fists. The sound coming from you is nothing more than a string of feeble whimpers.

Yet another lighting illuminates the two of you, but you don’t notice. You can no longer bear your own weight, and sink to your knees, and Dean sinks down with you. The porch is soaked beneath your naked feet. The icy water is seeping up the flannel, sending waves of shivers through your body.

Dean clings to you as if his life depends on it, and you do the same. The thunder rolls.

Tagging the wonderful people on my old tag list: (let me know if you want to be removed)

@orpheus-aeiou @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay @fandomismyspiritanimal @barneybrigade  @mogaruke @wstrumpel @whovianextrodinare @hennessy0274-blog @sushi-senpai-chan @tardis-is-mine @badasssweetsrebel @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @megasimpleplan4ever @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @80percentmarvel

[just-another-winchester]

Homeward Bound

You’re Not Alone - Chapter 10

Pairing - Dean x Reader

Warnings - Uhm... none

Word Count - 1516

Summary - Y/N is excited and happy to finally be back with the Winchesters

A/N - So this is another short one unfortunately. I didn’t have much to say really I just wanted to get this out for ya’ll. Thank you for reading!

Feedback is Cool!!

As happy as you were having Dean back, something about his return was unsettling. Aside from hearing that angels were real and one saved him from Hell, you had a lot to get used to.

Once Sam woke up you packed up your things, gathering the things that you had left from your life before losing Dean. While the two were in the living room you looked around your bedroom, in shock that you would actually be leaving here.

This had been your home, your life for the past four months, and while those months were terrible, filled with pain, anger and regret, that didn’t make leaving your sanctuary any easier. Once you changed out of your dress and back into a pair of jeans, a t shirt and a jacket, you walked out to the Winchesters.

Dean’s eyes fell on you as you walked up to them, then the duffel bag.

“What are you doing?” He asked you,

“Getting my things,” You answered, walking to the table where your stereo and Dean’s music was, beginning to pack it all back into a container.

“Why?”

“Because I’m coming with you. C’mon Dean I know it’s been a while but surely you can figure this out for yourself.” You muttered.

“No you’re not,” He told you, walking around so he could face you. “We’re leaving you here.”

“Bullshit.” You answered, closing the lid on the container and placing it in Dean’s hands.

“Y/n, you have a life here, a job. You’re safer here than you ever could be with us.” He tried, clearly wanting you to stay. His insistence sent a pang through your heart. Did he not want you?

“I’m a baker where I sob every time I have to make pie, this ‘life’ you claim I have here was made out of misery, because I wanted to forget you ever existed because I missed you. And I don’t care what you think, the only time I’m safe, the only time I feel safe, is when I’m with you. Are you going to let anything bad happen to me?”

“No, but-” Dean tried

“See? Besides, if you wanted to leave me behind why the hell would you come here?” You asked,

“Because I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Dean answered, clearly frustrated that you were hardly letting him speak

“I wasn’t, but I am now that I’m going with you.” You said softly, you grabbed your notepad and a pen and started writing.

“What are you doing now?” Dean demanded, his tone was irritation.

“Writing my landlord a note,” You answered, “Telling him I don’t want the place anymore, he can pay for the rest of the months rent by auctioning off anything I leave, and keep what’s left.” You finished writing and set the pen down, going to the sink and grabbing your money container.

You weren’t sure why exactly, but you just kept all your money in this little container, even after buying food, new clothes and paying rent, four months of savings was quite a bit.

“Who knows,” You smirked, “Maybe the mysterious disappearance of Y/n Y/l/n will make Unsolved Mysteries and we can watch about me someday.”

With that you grabbed your key and walked to the door, setting your copy in your catch all bowl and opening the door.

“You coming or what?” You demanded, walking out.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you continued to the elevator, hearing Dean and Sam walk out and shut the door behind them.

The elevator door opened with a ding and you stepped in, followed by the Winchesters. Leaning back against the wall you couldn’t help but notice Dean’s eyes on you, but he looked confused.

“Is that my shirt?” He finally asked

Blood rushed to your cheeks and you ducked your head.

“Nope,” You answered as you heard a ding, the door opening to let you off. You stepped off quickly and practically skipped to the exit of the building.

You opened the door and stepped outside.

You never went out on days where you didn’t work. If you needed anything, groceries, new clothes, anything. If was before work, on break or after work, so this felt weird, but you knew it didn’t matter.

You allowed Sam and Dean to get in front of you so you could follow them to the car.

“So where are we going?” You asked,

“Back to Bobby’s,” Dean answered, “We still gotta figure out this angel crap. Now that you’re here you can help.”

“There is a lot to learn about angels Dean, there are different kind of angels you know. You don’t

kid when you call them warriors of God, they’re like an army, there are different ranks and positions. What do you know about this angel that saved you?” You asked,

“His name is Castiel, and God apparently sent him to save me from hell.” He answered, “Say how do you know all this stuff about them?”

“I never told you I was raised catholic did I?” You said as the three of you reached the Impala.

The sight of that car was like finally coming home. This car was amazing, and although you never cared about cars before, there was something special about Baby that you couldn’t put your finger on, she really was like one of the family.

“You were raised catholic?” Dean asked, unlocking the car.

“Anything I learned, my mom taught me. I don’t remember much but I remember about angels. I suppose I was always holding on to the hope that they existed, especially after finding out that demons were real.” You shrugged, climbing into the back.

The men climbed into the front seats of Baby. The smell, the feel, everything about being back in this car was like home, and you couldn’t wait to get back to Bobby’s.

Dean stuck the key in the ignition, but stopped a moment.

“Y/n, are you sure about this? You have a life here, a safe one, you make money, you have a home.” He said,

You looked up as you buckled yourself in.

You’d had to make a home out of walls and a roof, because your home with Dean and Sam had disappeared. With Dean’s return, there was no way in Hell you would let go of that again.

“I have no second thoughts, start the car Dean.” You assured him as you looked at the mirror where he green eyes peered back at you.

Your relationship was still somewhat new, you both knew how you felt about each other, but things were hard. You’d never had a relationship before, not like the one you wanted with Dean. You knew you loved him wholeheartedly, but getting to the point where you were both comfortable being that to each other, well it proved difficult.

Dean nodded as he turned the key, the car roared to life and you grinned, the sound made your heart fill with joy as you looked back up to the mirror where you saw Dean’s smirk. You could tell he was happy too.

You sat back happily, looking out the window as the Winchester drove out of your parking lot and began to drive away from your apartment building.

You could almost cry with relief, the feelings inside you were hard to describe, but in a way you felt like you’d been trapped there, even though you would leave for work and shopping and such you felt like you were chained to that place, stuck there forever, but as Dean continued to drive further away it was as if you could feel the links of the chain snapping, falling to pieces as though they were icicles.

As you felt the last links shatter to pieces you kept your eyes on Dean. His eyes now kept to the road as you were filled with joy so overwhelming at that fact that he was here, he was alive, you honestly felt like you might explode.

Part of you, honestly, all of you wanted to reach up and hold onto him and never ever let go. You wanted to cling to him, and for him to cling to you.

Your thoughts left your old home, the tenseness inside you vanished. You felt happy, like the weight had lifted, and even though you knew that things were going to be anything but perfect in the time to come, you knew you would finally have that sense of belonging again, you would be with Dean, and Sam.

You sat back against the seat as you watched the world go by, driving further towards the unknown. You didn’t know what was in store for you and the Winchesters, but right about now, none of that mattered.

You knew you would be safe, protected, and loved. You had your place now, and nothing was threatening to break you apart, there was no demon deal or death arrangement, just the three of you, doing what you do.

That was the greatest beginning you could think of.

My Tag List Is Wide Open!

Dream Team

@spn67-sister @queen-of-deans-booty @ria132love @winchestergeekfreak @maui137 @katymacsupernatural @jayneysimp @emoryhemsworth @just-another-busy-fangirl @bunniesowlsandwhales @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @mogaruke @kristendanwayne @cassieraider @squirrel-moose-winchester @hms-fangirl @heyitscam99

Dean Team

@akshi8278 @polina-93 @aubreystilinski @-lovepeacenhope- @waywardbaby @missjenniferb @whimsicalrobots

You’re Not Alone

@elizabeth-silverthorn @trustnobodyshootfirst @dizzy-sunshine @the--real-wombat @oreosatmidnight @supernatural-is-my-support-group @mirandaaustin93

[saveyourblood]

Important Blog Announcement

so... this is something that I have been thinking about for a very, very long time.

As probably most of you know by now, this blog originated as an SPN blog; more specifically, it was an SPN reader insert fanfiction blog. I'm sure many of you have also noticed that I haven't posted consistent writing in... a very long time (I'm talking at least 1 year). And, truth is: it's because I simply have no interest in it anymore, neither Supernatural or writing for it. 

Between the mix of pursuing my original works and the pressure I have felt to post writing for this fandom (by my own mentality, no one has been rude to me, thank god), I just feel as though my time to retire from fanfiction (besides a few side/secret projects that won't even be posted here on tumblr) is long overdue. This doesn't mean that I will never write fanfiction again, because who knows! Maybe I'll change my mind in the future. But as of right now, I can tell you that my own writing content is something you won't be seeing much of on my blog. So, basically, this is my formal announcement that I will no longer be writing fanfiction for SPN, if any fandom. You can read below the cut for some more explanation + the answers to some questions you may be asking. 

So... What will happen to all of my old works? After a lot of thought and a refreshing conversation with @icouldnotsee, I can say that all of my writing will still be up for you to enjoy. I will be deleting my masterlist, both mobile and the page on my theme, but you can find the posts easily under either a pairing tag or '#i can write', my general writing tag. 

Now what will I be posting? I'm still a multifandom blog, which means I'll still post multi-fandom things. I've been thinking about becoming a general writing/prompt blog, but that decision isn't definite. So, mostly I'll be focusing on reblogging beautiful gifs/graphics from many fandoms (Shadowhunters, The Walking Dead, video games (Life is Strange, The Last of Us, TWD game), Comedies (FRIENDS, The Office, Parks & Rec,) etc), and occasionally posting my own as well. Not much is going to change from the blog's current state, aside from the fact that SPN is no longer my main fandom and I can freely say that I will no longer be writing for it.  Now that you won't be SPN, Can I unfollow you? By all means. If my blog isn't your cup of tea, that is perfectly fine. If you unfollow me because of this post, even if you're a mutual, there will be no hard feelings. I can see myself losing most of my follower base from this announcement, and I think I'm okay with that. And, a final note to my SPN Family (yes, I just dropped the F-bomb): Thank you. Even when you didn't always know, you taught me a lot about being in a tightly knit yet incredibly divided fandom. You taught me how people of entirely different backgrounds and lives can find some of their best friends through a single, almost meaningless thing. You taught me how to stand up for my own opinions, that I can criticize something I like, and that no matter how much you fight with some people, they will always think they are right, even when you believe they are wrong (I learned that last one the hard way on several occasions, ha).  Thank you for being something I could enjoy, and thank you for the endless love and support you have offered me. I have made some of my best friends because of this show, and I wouldn't take that back for even a second.

If you have any questions, please send me an ask.  Just some random tags: @sleepywinchester , @icouldnotsee , @@theerinpage , @tchallaes , @teamfreewill-imagine , @ruined-by-destiel , @sassy-losechester , @musically-queer, @melorabarton, @fawnjensen, @wanderingcas , @ddean , @destielonfire , @thing-you-do-with-that-thing , + a bunch of other friends/mutuals I'm forgetting Forever taglist (that I probably will never use again):  @impalapossible @elroymarvelous @raeganr99 @dontsassmecastiel @bitch-i-am-a-dean-girl @faithlov3hope  @supernatural-harrypotter7 @anabel-rose @district-12-erudite @nerdysandwichqueen @spnici @number-one-supernatural-trash @chelseypaigeake @superbluhoo2 @b-enfield14 @anaestheticfangirl @winterwolf57 @bubblebathsandsarcasm @wildfirewinchester @rainingangelwings @everyday-supernatural-af @fairytalesexistxx @brokenwings395 @girl-next-door-writes @lakama15 @phillion-howell56785 @duherica @batmmgray @chelsea072498 @princess-joe37 @thelandofspntrash @sis-tafics @16wiishes @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @jaylovesfrance77 @growningupgeek @whydoyouwantmetosaymyname @spn-fan-girl-173 @cascar24 @macndeath @stilinski15 @tattooedluci @trinityjadec @idontexerciseiexorcise @sugar-plum-harrypotter-obsessed @jensensjaredsandmishaslover  @the--gorgeous @kristaparadowski @amaranthinecastiel @thegreatficmaster @starswirlblitz @my-supernatural-dreams @liveyourlifemeraki @just-a-touch-of-crowley @superlocktrash7983 @the-fancy-dog @bonnie4lyfe @demonic-meatball @bananakid42 @theplaidshirtmadness @spnbuckytrash @cojootromuelle @supernatural-squadd @ria132love @emoryhemsworth

[scarlettwitcher]

Hey! Thanks SOOO MUCH for taking my request and when I read it I was like this is so cute...wish there was more. Then I went up and saw it was gonna be in four parts and I just like THREW MY PHONE DOWN ON MY BED AND JUST GOT SO EXCITED like it’s so wonderful and perfect already and I can’t wait to read the rest of Úlfur Minn! Hope you have a wonderful day and an even greater upcoming weekend! 💖💖💖💖💖 omg I’m so excited you don’t even know. 💖💖💖💖💖

I'm so glad you're excited cause I am too! It wasn't intentional for it to be a mini series but my fingers got away from me and I wrote a lot! Part of me already wants to release all 4 parts cause I'm proud of it but at the same time, gotta keep y'all on your toes! I'll release Part 2 tomorrow so buckle up y'all, it gets bumpy ❤❤❤

[impalaimagining]

Could I totally be a tag for what a beautiful day? I freak out when I miss an update! Its so good and it makes me giddy and happy 😄

Sure thing, love! You’re on the list :) 

What A Beautiful Day

[mermaidxatxheart]

No Second Chances

So, I’ve been going through writer’s block, searching for a way out of it. @stuckonjbbarnes​ gave me this prompt and I wrote this in about an hour.

Prompt: “I have a master's degree in making people cry.”

Pairing: Bucky X Reader, sort of.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Anger, depression, angsttttttttt up the wazoo. deadbeat bucky? ghosting. Honestly, just sadness.

Summary: You slept with Bucky on the third date and now you’re dealing with the consequences.

You didn’t want this. Never thought it would be you. But Bucky Barnes was irresistible. All charm and smiles. Wooed you right out of your pants on the third date. 

 And then never called. 

 But he left something behind that night. 

 You tried desperately to get in touch with him, to let him know he would be a father. But you could never get close to him. 

 So, eventually, you gave up trying. Accepted your fate, that he used you and left you with the consequences, and moved on with your life. You didn’t need his support or his money. 

 You could do this on your own. 

  6 months later, you’re in the grocery store, contemplating over the big pickles or the little baby ones when you feel someone standing behind you. You carefully nudge your cart forward out of their way. 

 “Sorry.” You mumble, still lost in thought over your decision. 

 “Y/N?” You hear and instantly recognize the voice, like nails on a chalkboard to you now. 

 You look up to see Bucky, blue eyes opened wide as he takes in your swollen belly. “Bucky.” You mutter, glancing around for your shopping partner. You needed a rescue. 

 “Oh, wow.” He stammers, eyes glued to your torso.

 “Yeah, who knew there were so many choices on pickles?” You try to joke, setting both jars in your cart, just anxious to get away now. 

 “Wait, isn’t there something you’d like to tell me?” He catches your arm, keeping you there.

 “No.” You say firmly, removing your arm from his grasp.

 “Y/N, how far along are you?” He asks quietly. 

 “If you have to ask, Barnes, you’re dumber than you look.” You hiss.

 “Is it mine?” He asks, glancing around to see if anyone’s noticed your conversation. 

 “Who else’s would it be?”

 “I dunno. Someone else you went out with only three times?” He replies sarcastically and you feel the blood drain out of your face. “No, wait. I didn’t mean that.” He rushes, but you aren’t listening. Your pulse is pounding in your ears, roaring like a wave.

 “You are an absolute piece of shit, Barnes. You got what you wanted, damn the consequences, and off you went to seduce other girls.” You take a deep breath, trying to remember that the grocery store is not the place to be having this conversation.

 “Y/N-”

 “I trusted you. And that was my mistake, I see that now. But I won’t make it again.” You take a slow, calming breath, turning away from him. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s not yours. You’re off the hook.” You push your cart to the end of the aisle just as your shopping partner appears with an arm full of diapers and baby wipes. He spots Bucky and his eyes narrow.

 “Barnes.” He greets shortly. 

 “Rogers.” Bucky returns. 

 Steve sets the items in the cart and puts his arm around your shoulders, guiding you away from the man who broke your heart. 

  You didn’t talk much for the rest of the excursion. Steve knew something was wrong? But you refused to talk about it. If you talked about Barnes now, it would just upset Steve and you’d never be done crying. 

 He helps you carry things inside to your apartment, but you decline his offer to help put things away. You want some time to yourself. To cry in private. 

 He leaves and you’re in the middle of stacking the pasta in the pantry when the tears start. You can feel your baby stretching inside you, and an ugly sob escapes. You drop the box you’re holding and clutch your stomach, a million thoughts racing through your head. 

 Can you really do this? Will she be okay? Does she need her father? Or will you be enough? Because you certainly weren’t for him. 

 A knock at your door jerks you out of your crumpled stance. You wipe your eyes and cautiously walk over to the door, looking through the peephole. 

 Bucky Barnes. 

 With a bouquet of flowers. 

 You take a step back, pursing your lips. You don’t have to answer. You don’t owe him a damn thing. 

 “Y/N, I can hear you breathing.” He calls. 

 You roll your eyes but open your door until the chain catches. “No, you can’t. I breathe quietly.” You mutter, brushing off your cheeks to make sure all the tears are gone. 

 He holds out the flowers. “Can I come in?”

 “No.” You say coldly. You’ve learned your lesson.

 “Please? I want-”

 Your blood boils. “Oh, you want? You want? You got what you wanted. An easy piece of ass, isn’t that right? I tried to call you, to tell you. I called for weeks to try and just talk to you. But you fucking ghosted me. Made me feel like trash!” You slam the door and yank the chain off. “You don’t get to want. You don’t deserve to be a part of my life. I saw your face when you realized today. Disgusted, panicked, horrified.”

 He opens his mouth, but you can’t bear to listen to him try to justify. You snatch the cheap flowers out of his hand and throw them down the hallway. 

 “I’m good enough, Barnes. I can do this on my own and I will be good enough for my daughter.” You shut the door in his face, determined for that to be the end. But his voice makes you pause. 

 “I have a Master's degree in making people cry.” He rushes. You hesitate and he continues. “It’s all I’ve ever been good at-causing people pain. No matter how hard I try, I always fuck it up.” He sighs. “I know that doesn’t make it okay. And I know I deserve everything you wanna throw at me. But, please, I want to make up for my mistakes, for my shortcomings. You deserve more, Y/N, so much more.” His voice breaks, but you can’t let yourself fall for it again.

 “Go home, Bucky.” You say softly through the solid door. “Just go home.”

 Everything Tag list:

@everythingisoverrated​ @dsakita​ @shreddedparchment​ @bitsandbobsandstuff​ @after-avenging-hours​ @alexblrus​ @thinkingsofamadwoman​ @i-dont-want-to-be-called​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @fortheloveofallthatsholy​ @crazychaotic​ @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety​ @redstarstan​ @justreadingfics​ @themistsofmyavalon​ @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​ @wkemeup​ @thiccbinch​ @glide-thru​ @moli1497​ @ellaenchanted91​ @part-time-patronus​ @janeyboo​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ @thirstybitchqueen​ @xxloki81xx​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @browngirlmagic​ @geeksareunique​ @nicoleplacee​ @lexshead​ @gambitsqueen​ @sebbbystaaan​ @lokisironthrone​

[queenxxxsupreme]

geralt + having to use words to try and ask reader out bc he's jealous of the attention they're getting from other people

The witcher gritted his teeth together, growling lowly in his chest as he watched the barman lean against the counter in front of you. He didn’t like how the barman had reached out to brush a strand of your hair out of your face just a few moments ago, and now he stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

You, being the shy and kind person you were, smiled softly at him as a blush rose to your cheeks, tinting them a light shade of pink. You took the three mugs of ale from him and thanked him before making your way across the bar to the table towards the back corner that the witcher and the bard sat at.

“Here you go, gentlemen.” You placed the mugs down on the table and then slid into the bench next to Jaskier. 

“What’s got your cheeks so pink, Y/N?” Jaskier raised a brow. 

“Nothing.” You answered maybe a little too quickly. You turned your head to look towards the group of people dancing and laughing near the front of the bar. Jaskier had been up there with the other bards within the establishment but he decided to take a little break. 

You smiled as a man spun a woman out and then pulled her back into his arms. The woman let out a joyous laugh, one that made you almost giggle. She sounded so happy. 

You didn’t notice a group of men standing off to the side of the group eyeing you. One nodded his head and patted his friend on the arm, then started off in your direction, weaving in and out of patrons and tables. 

You moved a little to the music in your bench, bringing your mug up to your lips. 

“Pardon my intrusion.” The man spoke, catching your attention. Your eyes flickered to him as you put your mug down.

“Hello.” You greeted him with a friendly smile. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you watching.” He gestured to those dancing. “Would you like to join me?” He held his hand out for you. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” You shook your head.

“Go on, Y/N!” Jaskier encouraged, bumping his shoulder into yours. “You’ll have fun.”

You bit your bottom lip for a moment, studying the man. You nodded, a wide smile crossing your lips as you placed your hand in his. 

Geralt’s fingers tightened around his mug as he watched you be led across the room by the stranger. The metal caved in underneath his grip and the small groan of the material caught Jaskier’s attention. 

“My gods, Geralt. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” He grunted, practically throwing the mug down on the table as he released it.

“I told you to make your move-,”

“Fuck off, Jaskier.” He snapped. “She isn’t interested in me. And I don’t blame her.”

“You’re an idiot.” Jaskier rolled his eyes, looking back to you. You let out a melodic laugh as the man you were dancing with dipped you. “She tells me all the time about how she fancies you.”

Geralt tried to look anywhere but at you, however that was easier said than done. Every time he heard you squeal or laugh, he found himself looking in your direction, afraid you were in some sort of danger. 

He hated that you were so kind to everyone, that you welcomed complete strangers like friends. You were too naive, too innocent to know about the cruelty of the world. You didn’t know that every one who laid eyes on you tried to flirt with you, to court you or worse. 

The White Wolf could feel the anger and jealous rising in his veins like some sort of fire as he watched the man pull you in close, almost like he was going to kiss you. It burned and tasted bitter in the back of his throat. Jealous was something he wasn’t familiar with. Most of the time, he had no one to be jealous over. He didn’t care to get attached to anyone enough to become jealous.

With you, however, he felt the desire to keep you hidden from prying eyes and greedy hands.He wanted to slaughter every man who kissed your knuckles or dared to let his eyes wander to anywhere other than your eyes. 

The little self control he had within him melted when the man leaned down to kiss you. 

The witcher was on his feet and crossing the bar in a heartbeat. He could see you struggling, pushing against the man in an attempt to make him let you go. The Butcher of Blaviken brought his hand down roughly on the man’s shoulder and when he pulled away from you, Geralt threw him across the room into a table. 

“Geralt!” You gasped, furrowing your eyebrows at him. 

He looked at you, his nostrils flaring. 

“Get the hell out, beast!” The barman shouted, pounding a cup loudly against the top of the counter. 

Geralt released a low growl at the man before turning and storming out of the tavern. 

You followed quickly behind him, unsure of why he was so angry, so furious. 

“Geralt! Geralt, wait!” You called for him as you stepped out into the rain. 

He stopped in the middle of the street, his shoulders slumping as he took a deep breath. He didn’t want to lose his temper with you. He didn’t want to hurt you. 

Slowly, he turned around to face you. 

“What is the matter with you?” You furrowed your brows, wiping your hair from your forehead. The rain was making the strands stick to your damp skin. 

He didn’t answer immediately. 

“I can’t stand the thought of another putting their hands on you.” His voice was calm and collected. He’d pushed the jealous and anger down, hiding it deep within himself. 

“Why?” You asked quietly. You needed to know why he felt that way. You needed to know if he felt the same way about you. You needed to know if your feelings were reciprocated. “Why, Geralt?”

“Because I-,” He stopped himself, his eyes looking down and then to the side as he struggled to find the right words. “Because they aren’t good enough for you.”

Your heart dropped. Of course he didn’t feel the same way.

“And what makes you think you can judge who is and isn’t good for me?”

“I’m not.” He growled in frustration with himself. That wasn’t what he wanted to say. He brought his hand up to rub his eyes. “I care about-Y/N, I care about you.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can scare away anyone who puts their hands on me.”

“You didn’t want that asshole to kiss you.”

“I would’ve stopped him.” You stubbornly crossed your arms and turned to go back into the tavern.

“Y/N, I’m-I’m not good enough for you.” 

His words stopped you in your tracks. 

“I know I’m not. I’m-I’m-I’m nothing compared to what you deserve.”

You’d never heard him so unsure, so nervous. You turned back to face him, your hands falling to your sides. 

“But I want to be.” He took a few steps towards you. “I want to be what you deserve. What you want.”

“You are what I want, Geralt.” You smiled gently at him. 

“That’s not enough.” He shook his head. Your smile slowly fell and he worked quick to fix what he’d said. “Not like that, no! That’s-I’m not-,”

Geralt stopped himself, locking his jaw tightly as he gazed at you. His hands were curled into fists by his sides. 

“Words on not my forte.”

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” You asked him, hoping the question would have a simple answer. 

“You.” He whispered softly. “Just you.”

A smile grew on your lips. 

“I want you too.” You nearly laughed in joy as you watched the corners of his lips turn up into a faint smile. His smile was easily the most stunning thing you’d ever seen, but also one of the rarest things you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“You do?”

You nodded, taking quick steps towards him. His arms came out to grab you, wrapping around your soaked frame and holding you close to him. You buried your face in his chest, closing your eyes as he squeezed you firmly. 

“Bravo!” Jaskier clapped from the doorway of the tavern. “That will make for an excellent ballad, don’t you think so?”

Geralt lifted his head from yours and sent the bard a glare. 

“Hear me out! The witcher admitting his fondness over the only one ever to catch his eye-,”

“Fuck off, bard!” Geralt cut him off. You pulled your head from his chest and smiled up at him. He tilted his head down to get a good look at you. He smiled back, happy that you were in his arms instead of someone else’s. 

He dipped his head down to meet your lips in a gentle, feathery kiss. 

Taglist: @riviawitch3r @notyouraveragemochii @dev1lbella @rosyghosty @merendis @lalalalemonade11 @wayward-dream @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @tshuuls @havenoffandoms @queen-sands @crazzyter @katiejmac @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @jennylovelyheart @stretchkingblog97 @itsallyouhavegotinsideyourhead @hm-fck @mactho @msgeorgiarae @tragicmisfits @randomzxx @alwayshave-faith @rahdaleigh @lizliz3107 @turtlefordestiel @d14n4ol @asix122747483 @minervalavender @agniavateira @hina-chans-stuff @dressed-up-heartbreak @persephonehemingway @bitterstar88 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @romancebibliophilia

[iwantthedean]

Happier

Summary: Love doesn’t conquer all, as you and Jensen soon find out.  Pairing: Jensen x Reader Word Count: 1715 Warnings: Angst.  Square Filled: BTZ - Grief (Crossing my fingers this fills the square anyway!) Recommended Listening: Happier - Marshmello ft. Bastille. 

It started in Chicago. For the first time ever, Y/N had decided to stay in their hotel room instead of going to the Saturday Night Special. When Jensen asked her what was wrong, she promised him that everything was fine. 

“I just need a night off, you know?”

He took her hand. “But I need you.”

Withdrawing her hand, Y/N let out a deep breath. “You don’t need me, Jensen. You say that, but then you get on that stage, and the fans are enough. They’re more than enough.”

“What do you think it is that gets me on that stage?” he countered. 

“You were getting on stages and screens long before I came around.” She dropped down onto the bed, picking up the remote to turn on the television and find something to watch. Tears were brimming in her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him. 

Jensen left then, to meet up with Jared and head to the venue. He pondered Y/N’s behavior the whole time, trying to figure out where all of this was coming from. Her attitude had changed so suddenly, it seemed, and he didn’t know how to handle it. 

“Maybe you need to just ride with it. She’s probably homesick or something,” Jared suggested. 

That was something Jensen could understand. Playing Dean when he was in Vancouver, or doing conventions around the world — those were all amazing experiences. But being back home in Texas, that’s where he felt safe and grounded. 

After the show was over and he could go back to the hotel room, Jensen quietly entered, afraid to wake Y/N if she had been sleeping. As it was, she was still awake, curled around a pillow, watching TV. A room service tray was set on his side of the bed. Jensen moved it to the small table in the room, and sat beside her on the bed. He brushed her hair back with his fingers and sighed. 

“I’m sorry that I put that burden on you. My nerves and being the thing that gives me the courage to get out there most nights. I’m sorry.”

Y/N swallowed hard and sat up, her eyes still a little sleepy. “You’re not a burden, Jay. I love you, with my whole heart. I’m in a funk, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you homesick?” Maybe Jared was right. 

“Maybe,” she sighed, falling back against the pillows. 

Jensen nodded and immediately made a hard decision. “Okay. Then let me send you home. I’ll see you there in a few days when I’ve got a break, then we can go back to Vancouver together.”

Y/N blinked, pushing tears down her cheeks. “Like you think we need a break?”

“No, not at all, I swear,” Jensen promised. “But maybe you need a break from the conventions and my chaotic filming schedule. Not from me, and I don’t need one from you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I know.” He kissed her sweetly, then reached up to wipe her tears away. “This is the first time you’ve been to so many conventions with me, and I know it’s overwhelming. More than overwhelming. It’s okay to need a break.”

Y/N sniffled and wiped her tears. “Okay. If you promise you and me are okay, then I’ll take the break and go home.”

“Okay,” Jensen agreed, giving her a small smile. “For now, how about I take a shower, then you’ve got my attention for the rest of the night?”

She sniffled again and nodded. “Do you want me to order you some room service? I didn’t mean to eat without you …”

“Food would be good, and don’t worry about it. Maybe you can get a snack.”

Y/N was already on the phone with room service by the time Jensen turned on the shower. As he stripped down and stepped into the hot water, he found himself already feeling better about their interaction earlier that evening. 

* * * * * 

Saying goodbye to her at the Chicago airport was difficult; more difficult than Jensen had expected. Not even a week would pass before they would see each other again, and they both had agreed it wasn’t a break from each other. Still, Jensen feared what would be waiting for him when he returned home after the next few days. 

“You’ll call everyday? And text me in between?” Y/N made him promise. 

Jensen hooked his pinky with hers. “I promise. Even with the time difference. And if you don’t answer, it’s okay.”

“I’ll answer,” she promised before she kissed him. 

“You have everything? Ticket, passport, phone?”

She triple-checked. “I’ve got everything. I’ll call you when I land back in Austin.”

Jensen kissed her again, harder this time. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you more,” she said, hugging him tight. “See you at home.”

“See you at home,” he returned. 

* * * * * 

The next time Jensen talked to her, her voice was noticeably lighter. The tinge of sadness wasn’t there anymore, and she laughed at a joke he made. 

She laughed. 

Jensen hadn’t realized it until then, but months had passed since he had last heard her truly laugh. A chuckle here and there, maybe a small laugh as a courtesy, but not that genuine, from-the-heart laugh that he so loved hearing. And when was the last time she had smiled? The real kind of smile, the kind where her dimples showed. There had been smirks, polite smiles, even smiles that showed her teeth, but didn’t reach her eyes. 

These thoughts plagued Jensen over the next few days. Maybe the problem had been only the convention and filming, but Y/N was so much happier away from the chaos. He didn’t take it personally, but he knew what he needed to do. 

And he hated it.

When she came to pick him up at the airport, Jensen hugged her tight. He breathed in her smell, kissed her, and fell in love all over again. For just a moment, he considered changing his mind. He considered toughing it out, figuring a way to make his life easier for her. 

But only for a moment. 

He asked her to stop at the park near his Jared’s house after they left the airport. It was a nice day out, though a little cloudy, so Y/N didn’t seem to think much of his request. She pulled into a spot and went round to the front of the car, holding her hand out to him, waiting anxiously for him to lace his fingers through hers. 

“I missed you,” she told him, leaning against his shoulder when they found a bench near the playground. “How were the last few calls?”

“They were good. I missed you.” He looked down at her; even her skin seemed brighter. Her hair seemed shinier, more full. “How was it being home?”

Y/N filled her lungs, and a smile tugged at her mouth. “It was great. Just the break I needed. I think being in Vancouver is going to be easier, y’know? I don’t know why, but I think I’m ready for it.”

Jensen sighed and nudged her a little with his elbow so that she would sit up and he could look her in the eye. “I don’t know, Y/N. Think about how miserable you were before you came home. And it wasn’t just that night, was it? That was only things coming to a head. Everything you love is here. You’ve got strong roots in your home.”

“So do you,” she frowned, already suspicious of what he was saying. “And I love you. I want to be where you are.”

“I know that you love me. That’s probably one of the few things I’ve never doubted in my life. But I’m not sure you’re ready for a life with me, Y/N. Filming, traveling — that’s my life. It’s not going to change, not for a long time. We’re either looking at you being miserable for nine months out of the year plus convention weekends, or spending all that time apart. Either way, I don’t think you would be happy. And I want you to be happy, Y/N. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, where you’re concerned.”

Her chin quivered and her eyes glazed over. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I think we both know, and have known for a while, that we love each other and we’re happy when we’re together, but if we stay together, one or both of us isn’t going to be happy.” Jensen swallowed down the lump in his own throat. “I’m saying that I think, in order for you to be happy, I need to walk away from this.”

Some strange sound between a squeak and a sob escaped her throat, and she leaned into him. She didn’t protest, which told Jensen he had made the right choice. He let some tears fall, too, while he held her there on that park bench. 

“Did you ask me to come here so you could be close to Jared’s house and walk there after?” she asked once the crying was under control, for the time being. 

Jensen shrugged. “I didn’t want to ask you to take me there, but I didn’t want the bad memory for either of us at our place. I want you to just have happy memories there. I’ll crash with my family or Jared till I can find a place.”

Y/N nodded and stood. “Okay. Will you — I don’t want to be selfish, but will you let me leave first? I’m not saying you’re wrong, and maybe we’ll figure this out at another time. But I don’t think I can watch you leave me.”

“Fair enough,” Jensen whispered, stealing one more chaste kiss before following her to the car to get his bags. He shut the trunk and turned to her. “I really do love you, Y/N.”

“I know,” she said, starting to cry again. “Me too. I love you, too.”

Jensen held out his arm to her, and she fell against his chest for the last time. He hugged her tight, kissed her forehead, then stood out of the way so she could back out of the parking stall and head towards home. 

********** The Whole Shebang: @illisea @ashleymalfoy @busybee612 @mrswhozeewhatsis @sherlock44 @ravenesque @atc74 @theplaidshirtmadness @blacktithe7 @moonlessnight14 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @smoothdogsgirl @melbrandes @xtina2191 @spnbaby-67 @emoryhemsworth @goldenolaf25 @gabriels-trix @applesugar88 @rainflowermoon @deansgirl215 @thisismysecrethappyplace 

Jack Attack: @tiffanycaruso @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish 

Two for the Money: @jayankles @love-me-some-pie21 @akshi8278 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @supernatural-jackles @adoptdontshoppets 

[frenchybell]

Lonely Nights

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Prompt: “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.”

Words: 822

Warnings: Mutual masturbation, tame smut, video chat sexy time

A/N: This is my first post in soooooo long! It’s for @impala-dreamer prompt challenge that was due on the 5th… oops… sorry Beka… I hope ya’ll enjoy. Feed back is welcome and appreciated :)

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.” Dean says as he answers your video call, scrambling to leave the room he is in. You assume Sam is somewhere nearby from the panicked look on Dean’s face.

“Whatever could you mean, Mr. Winchester?” You ask, a mischievous smile about your lips.

“You know damn well what I mean. I’m a thousand miles away and you answer in nothing but that smile. That’ll make a man crazy for sure.” You watch, secretly pleased, as he drags a hand down his face before taking in your form once more.

Normally, you wouldn’t do such a thing, but tonight you’re feeling frisky. Dean has been gone for two weeks; some case Sam had found that took them clear across country. You still hadn’t fully forgiven Sam for that one. The bunker is spotless, you’re bored, and missing Dean something fierce. Why not settle for the next best thing?

You lean back in the bed, holding the phone in front of you to give your man the best view possible of your nakedness. “Are ya’ll any closer to solving this one so you can come home to me?”

“Not yet, sweetheart, but close. I won’t bore you with the details. Besides, I can’t think of a single one at the moment.” He smiles that panty melting smile that you could never resist and a dull, persistent ache begins between your thighs.

With a sigh, you roll to your side. “I miss you, Dean. You’ve got no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do.” His smile softens, as do his eyes. He licks his lips and your eyes lock on his mouth, imagining all the things he could be doing to you with that sinful tongue. The throb intensifies.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I wish you were here right now. I need you.���

It doesn’t take him long to realize what you mean. You could see his expression go from sweet to sultry in seconds flats. “Well, maybe I can take care of you from here.”

You clinch your legs together in a futile attempt to alleviate your arousal, but to no avail. His words only serve to fan the flames as your breathing goes shallow. “Yeah?” It’s the only thing you can think to say as he makes his way outside, to the impala.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, he leans the phone against the steering wheel and adjust the seat back slightly. His task done, he looks to the small screen once more.

“How much do you miss me?” He asks, his voice deeper, rougher than usual.

“More than I’d like to. I want you here, in bed with me.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” You don’t quite know what to make of his inquiry, but you have an inkling.

“Here’s what I want you to do; whatever I tell you to do, you do it, no questions asked. No one knows your body like I do, and I know just what it takes to get you there. Are you ready?”

Are you ready? Is he kidding you? Just the thought of what he’s proposing has you dripping. Yes, you’re ready. You nod, unable to form the words needed to agree to his proposition.

You set the phone aside, making sure he’d still be able to see everything you’re doing; making sure he could see you’re doing everything he asks. On and on he drives you, telling you where to touch; where to rub; where to pinch. As you obey, you feel yourself coiling higher and higher, closer to that sweet, sweet  bliss.

A metallic sounds meets your ear and you open your eyes to see Dean loosening his belt, breaking the spell he has you under for a moment. You catch your breath. Even through the grainy video you can see from his eyes just how much the sight of you is turning him on. You say nothing, though you’d like to see what’s below the frame.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” He says, his voice full of gravel. Only then do you realize you were caught up in watching him and continue your ministrations.

Together, two of you reach that peak, his honeyed words and sexy groans driving you toward that blissful moment of release. Spent, but not nearly sated, you smile as you clean yourself up. He does the same, looking slightly shy as he flashes those green eyes to yours.

“Can’t say I’ve ever done that before.”

“Yeah, me neither. But I’ve gotta say, it’s the next best thing to you being here with me. This bed is too big for just one.” Lazily, you drag the blanket over you.

He smiles. “What do you say? Same time tomorrow night?” You nod with a smirk of your own. “Goodnight, darlin’. It’s a date.”

Just tagging my forevers, and only those that work for this one… Tags: @babypieandwhiskey, @xxwinchester-22xx, @wevegotworktodo, @chelsea072498, @mamaredd123, @ashleymalfoy, @dr-dean, @curliesallovertheplace, @tardis-is-mine, @thefangirl54, @pumacat69, @nerdy-devils-bride, @kazchester-fanfiction, @goldentippedtimephoenix, @jensensjaredsandmishaslover, @vote-for-pedro, @bringmesomepie56, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @kittycat-cas, @moonstonemystyk, @kristaparadowski, @summer-binging-spn, @percywinchester27, @grace-for-sale, @winchesterprincessbride, @jensen-jarpad, @tmccarney, @idreamofhazel, @atc74, @wayward-mirage, @wi-deangirl77, @pixikinz, @the-latina-trickster, @hamartiamacguffin, @purgatoan