Mrs. John Smith

We’re taking back Pepe!

Remember in the frst scene of the Pilot episode, after Dean kisses baby Sammy goodnight, and they all leave the room, Sam’s mobile starts spinning…So…

What if at the end of the series, theres finale a grand finale title fight between Lucifer!Sam and Michael!Dean the way it was originally planned. Lucifer and Michael have overpowered Sam and Dean and are fighting to the death. The TRUE battle of Good vs Evil Then What if, just before each archangel stabs the other in the heart with an Archangel blade, Sam and Dean’s love for each other makes them strong enough to overpower the archangels again Then what if, Sam and Dean say they love each other and cant kill each other, but they both agree it has to stop…it needs to end forever Then what if, they look at each other, knowing what needs to be done, and take each others hand, and jam their blades into their own chests. Killing themselves and Michael and Lucifer.  Then what if they both appear in Heaven, standing on a road, with Baby… Smiling,, Leaning against Baby, Dean hands Sam a beer and asks  “How do you feel?” and Sam takes a deep breath “I feel good, I feel peace”  and Dean smiles “Yeah me too. Guess our work is done” they clink bottles and take a drink.

Nonny, I love this request.  When I think of how this should go I think of being able to reference fics by my fave writers, which means re-reading their work and cherry picking quotes from so many of their deep and broad masterlists.  And as much as I’d love to lose hours rereading the best, the problem is that that.  Is huge.  It would be huge, because it’s me.  I tend to go large.  And I don’t have the means for something that epic right now.  SO! I’m going to take your line (which I also love) and make something smaller from it.  My apologies Nonny, for creating an easier option, I have a problem with being okay with “Almost achieved my vision” in that I can’t. 

I hope you like what I did instead…  Content warning for ‘intellectual porn’ (i.e. smut!)  2k.

“Okay, well, since there is nothing else to do in town, how about we just crack a few beers and cruise Dean’s browser history.”

Sam snorts, bouncing in his chair and looks at Dean for his reaction.

“Yeah, right, like you’ve never watched porn,” Dean scoffs.

“Ah no.  Of course I don’t watch porn Dean,” you tell him, ignoring how he rolls his eyes.  “I’m an intellectual; I read porn.”

“Oh, so we should peruse your browser history, is what you mean.”  He shakes his head and takes a sip.  “Snob.”

“What? No! No snob!  It’s smut and-”

“It isn’t ‘erotica’?” Sam checks, throwing you a bone of dignity.

“God, it’s not like it’s for book club.  I don’t pay for it Sam.  It’s smut-” you turn back to Dean, “and I’m telling you it’s easily as good as porn. And better in many, many ways.” You go to drink and interrupt yourself- “And more ethical too!  Doesn’t use people.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that, but words?  Words, Y/N.  It’s words.  No.”

“They’re good words Dean.”

“Sorry.  No.  No contest.  Porn wins.” He drank his beer like that was the last word on the issue.  The irony.

Y’all, I went to SPNDC with @mrsjohnsmith this year and I just had to tell you about it! I kinda did here, but do you want to know the whole story? I’ll put it under the cut in case you don’t care.

Attention (<– Catch up here if you what to know what’s going on down here…)

Thank you to each and every one of you! It’s good to know after such a long break I can still produce a story worth reading. Sorry for the novel, but I want to thank you all. So click here to see the wonderful words folks have tossed my way.

Characters: Dean Winchester,  Reader

Summary: This isn’t the kind of attention you want from Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 2772

Warnings: angst; no fluff, seriously far from it

A/N: I had some inspiration lately: Attention - Charlie Puth  As the Rush Comes - Motorcyle. And some grade-A, tit for tat beta-ing by the ever wonderful @littlegreenplasticsoldier.

“You need another?” Tammy holds up the top shelf bottle, half tilted, ready to pour at your say so.

“That obvious?” A crack lets loose from your sore neck as you tilt a Yes and roll your head back around, trying to unwind. You used to have another way to work out those kinks but those days are long gone.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this low in months. Not since…” Tammy tops short when you shoot her a sharp look. You didn’t mean to snap at your only recent ally.

“Make it a double?” You speak a little softer, eyebrow raised and chin low. Might as well match the regret you have flowing tonight.

Every now and then, I get it in my head to write a fic based on some of the really poor bedroom experiences I’ve had, but it always gets put on the back burner (so many WIPs). Apparently, I’m not alone in this, so I decided to set it up as a challenge!

Sex in fan fiction is fantasy, and therefore so very different than sex in reality. I want us to write some really real smut here: the good, the bad, and the ugly, with an emphasis on the bad and the ugly. What I’m thinking of are those times when you both are really trying, but for whatever reason, it just isn’t working. (Not what we usually see in fics, where the reader is suffering through a one-night stand, isn’t really into it, and has no real investment in making it work.) In real life, we want it to work every time, and sometimes it just doesn’t. Sometimes, something funny happens, or someone miscalculates and gets injured, or your efforts to get there just don’t get you there. That’s the kind of thing I’m looking for.

Make it funny, or painful, or embarrassing. Base it on personal experiences, but don’t tell us (or do, if you’re willing!), and give yourself a chance to let out that story about the blind date who really needed to see a doctor about that rash. Make it angsty, make it fluffy, do whatever your muse tells you to do! Just make the sex REAL. I’m hoping for broken condoms, miscommunications, and trouble with toys. I can imagine a lot of virgin fics coming out of this, too.

Rules:

Do we need rules? Okay, fine. Here are some rules.

1. For the love of all things holy, if your fic is over 500 words, please use the Keep Reading feature!

2. Tag me in your fic if you want me to read it and add it to the masterpost I will create. You can also tag #Reality Bites Smut Challenge.

3. I would prefer no actor fics, and if everything was kept in the SPN fandom, as that’s what I enjoy, but I will reblog and add to the masterpost anything I see a tag for.

4. Reader inserts, ships, whatever are all welcome! (Like, maybe a character has a problem trying to get the job done by themselves? There wouldn’t be a pairing, but it would be a valid idea! Go for it!)

5. Deadline: How about the end of the month? Or later? Maybe next year? Meh. Take your time. I’m not even sure when I’ll get to write for this. Probably after Christmas. Let’s keep this open-ended, then, shall we?

6. HAVE FUN. Really, don’t do it if it starts to feel like work.

How’s that for rules? Good enough? Cool. Then let’s do this!

A shapeshifter job goes sideways and you’re on your own.

Characters: Dean, Sam, shapeshifter / implied Dean x reader Word Count: 5.2K Warnings: kidnapping, sexual assault (kissing, forced intimacy), being tied up, your gily pleasure

Remember when I was choosing between Dean being kidnapped (which became Hero of Mine) and Reader being kidnapped? Well, here’s that. I’ve been sitting on this damn fic since November ffs. So take it TAKE IT.

My thanks to @inkiestdawn and @ilostmyshoe-79 for their beta work, way back when.

It’s a sad state of affairs when comfort feels so unusual.  Not only was it a deep sleep, on a reasonably comfortable bed, but you feel rested.  Two seconds later you think to open your eyes and look, tense your body, and yes.  You’ve been fucking caught.

Lifting your head reminds you of the bump and you wince, trying to isolate the pain in your skull.  Your ankles are tight and tied to the frame and when you look up your wrists are bound above your head, the rails and rope-tails well out of reach.  Pretty sad that that’s so familiar too.

It’s a nondescript room, in a brick building you think, modern and clean.  The bed’s in the middle of the room, and from the light under the door beyond your feet, to the right, it’s deep into the day. The door creaks open and before you even see his face you’re hissing “Dean!  Dean, I just woke up-”

All at once the clues present themselves and you know he’s not Dean.  He’s walking too slowly, not enough slack in those hips, and he has a face of anticipation that’s got nothing to do with escape.  It’s the fucking shifter.

Characters: Reader,  Dean, Sam

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Depression (I know everyone is different, but this is my interpretation), Language, Sadness, Not Much Plot, Angst, Angsty Fluff?, Flangst, Attempted Assault Of The Emerald Eyed Adonis, I’m A Little Rusty so…forgive me in advance

Word Count: 2862

A/N: This has been a long time coming, because I’ve been feeling kind of stressed out about life in general these past 2 weeks. So, I wrote this as a kind of way to vent my feelings and get something out to you guys. I have tons of challenges coming up, so soon enough there will be no shortage of fics, I even have  a request that I’m hoping to get out as soon as possible. So, sorry for the hold up, I know I kind of suck, but I hope you enjoy this one. 

AS ALWAYS, FEEDBACK IS MUCH APPRECIATED AND MOTIVATES ME TO WRITE MORE OFTEN THAN NOT! :)

Masterlist

*Let Me Know If You Wanna Be Tagged

GIF NOT MINE!

You sigh as, once again, your phone begins to ring, the screen illuminating as you watch it slightly shift on the nightstand from the constant vibrations. Instead of picking it up to see who was calling, you roll over to the opposite side of your lumpy motel bed and stare at the worn beige walls. You didn’t need to see who it was, because you knew that it was either Sam or Dean. 

Both brothers had called you at least twenty times altogether and it was taking everything you had not to just pick up your various phones throw them against the wall and smash them all into a million pieces. It seemed they didn’t take very kindly to being ignored and you were sure that when you did finally pluck up the nerve to check your phones, you’d have a million messages and voicemails waiting for you to answer them.

For now though, you decided that you’d rather stay closed off from the rest of the world and all of the sub-par members that came with it. Given all of the grisly hunts that you’d been on of late, it didn’t really sound so bad to stay holed up in the mediocre motel that you’d taken refuge in not more that two days prior.

So yeah. Here comes a TMI blog/life update. Stop reading now if you’re uninterested. TMI and some general grossness below the cut, but also some blog updates.