Top Posts Tagged with #reader x jo

house crush [10]

summary: after the week of yearning it finally happens-- Jo and yn have their moment. masterlist

Across the packed living room, Alpha Kappa’s frat house was still loud and crowded. Bodies moved shoulder to shoulder under dim lights, people yelling over the music, drinks spilling onto the hardwood floors. But despite all of it, your eyes still found him immediately.

Jo stood near the kitchen island with K and Maki, red cup hanging loosely from his hand while he pretended to listen to whatever Taki was saying. You could only tell he wasn’t really paying attention because every few seconds his eyes drifted back toward you.

And every single time you caught him looking, he looked away too late.

•18+ Adults Only

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summary: Coming home for Christmas is supposed to feel familiar, not like the beginning of something new.

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

pairing: &team jo x reader

wc: 859

a/n: @astrae4 's secret santa gift exchange for @lune-net! sorry it's late but I hope you enjoy it!!

taglist applications: open

You tell yourself every year that you have outgrown this place. That it is too small, too quiet, too slow to change. And yet, here you are again, every December, back where the trains ease into the station, where the air smells of snow and pine, and where the town acts like nothing has moved on without you. Your suitcase is full of city clothes and habits you have picked up to survive somewhere louder, but your heart still reacts the same way it always has. Soft, open, maybe a little too hopeful.

There was someone once. A quiet love you never said aloud. You cared for him in the background, careful not to ask for too much, until one day it became clear he would never feel the same. It was not dramatic or cruel, just enough to make the once cozy town you loved feel suddenly unbearable. For a long time, every street corner, every café, every familiar place reminded you of him. Everything looks the same now, yet somehow different. This winter, the melancholy that used to tint your memories seems lighter, easier to carry.

This year the sadness is still there, but it is no longer in charge.

And then you see Jo. The boy who used to wait for you after school and walk you home when the winter evenings turned early and dark. He is outside the grocery store, scarf wrapped too neatly around his neck, breath misting in the cold, snow caught in his dark hair as if it has always belonged there. Quiet, soft-spoken, the boy who was once your best friend before life pulled you apart and the years stretched between you.

When he looks up and smiles, your chest flutters, not painfully, but sharply, like it is waking up from a long sleep.

Talking to him feels natural, like resuming a conversation you paused years ago. He asks about the city, listens when you answer, never rushes to fill the silence. You laugh more than you expected, catching yourself surprised at how easy it is. You bump into him again the next day, and again the day after. It stops feeling like coincidence and starts feeling like the town itself is nudging you together.

At your parents’ house, over tea and too many curious looks from relatives, an old family promise comes up, half tradition, half joke, about childhood friends and futures someone long ago imagined for you both. Marriage is mentioned, laughter follows, and before you can protest, Jo leans closer, voice low and slightly embarrassed. “We could pretend,” he murmurs. “Just for the holidays.”

For some reason, you say yes before you think it through.

Suddenly, you are fake dating Jo for Christmas.

It begins small. Sitting closer than usual. Hands brushing, lingering. Smiles held just a little longer than necessary. You bake cookies in the kitchen, flour ending up everywhere except where it should. You steal spoonfuls of batter and he pretends not to notice, though his smile always gives him away. At one point, he reaches out to brush flour from your cheek, and neither of you says anything about how long his hand stays there.

You go ice-skating one afternoon, clinging to him more than you need to. He laughs softly, steadying you with a hand at your waist. You tell yourself the flutter in your chest is just part of the act, but it does not feel like acting.

Later, while walking through town, he presses a single carnation into your hand. “For my favourite troublemaker,” he says, teasing gently. You laugh, your cheeks warming, and tuck the flower carefully between the pages of a book that night.

Then the snowstorm hits.

Plans are cancelled. Streets vanish under white, and you are trapped inside together while the world outside goes quiet. The pretending starts to slip. You sit close on the couch, knees brushing, sharing blankets and warmth. Silences are easy, comfortable. When he looks at you, it feels like he really sees you, not the person you pretend to be in public, not the one who learned to leave, but the one who stayed soft anyway.

On Christmas Eve, the town glows under falling snow and strings of lights. Jo walks you home slowly, neither of you saying much, until he stops under the old lamppost. Breath fogs in the cold, and his eyes search yours, like he has been holding something back for the whole season.

“I know this was supposed to be fake,” he says quietly, “but I don’t want it to be.”

Your heart stumbles.

“I’d choose you,” he adds. “Not because of family promises, not because it is Christmas. Just because I want to.”

When he kisses you, it is gentle and sure, like he has been holding this in longer than you realised. Snow clings to your hair. The town hums softly around you.

And suddenly, home is not just the place you came back to.

It is him. It is this moment. It is the quiet certainty that this Christmas is not an ending but the beginning of something you are finally ready to stay for.

Requests: Open ♡

Taglist: @lune-net

#&team fluff #&team #&team x reader #&team jo #asakura jo #jo fluff #asakura jo x reader #reader x jo #reader x &team #andteam fluff #andteam #andteam jo

Mundane 1/–

Summary: It was just like any other math class with Jo, him saying bs and you never listening.

Work count: 478 Tags: Jo (&team), school setting, school mates, uhh it's a harmless scenario i got inspired cause i saw him acting up during kcon japan so this might be out of character for him forgive me

#&team #&team jo #asakura jo #jo fluff #jo imagines #&team fluff #jo &team #asakura jo x reader #reader x jo #andteam imagines #andteam fluff #andteam #andteam x reader #&team x reader

Title: Another Life, Another Dream

Pairing: Jo x reader

Theme song: The One That Got Away by Katy Perry

Word count: 1,849

Warnings: angst, mentions of death

A/N: This if for @imagineteamfreewill (a.k.a. @wildfirewinchester ) birthday challenge! I’m so sorry it took me so long to get it out for you, Meg, but thanks for being patient. I hope you like it! LOVE YOU.

The early morning sun is piercing your eyelids; slowly blinking them open, your sleepy gaze lands on her. The hazy light silhouettes her in gold. Wrapped only in a satin sheet, you drink in her every curve. Your initial euphoria starts to fade the longer you stare, building into a rampant confusion. How is she here!?

“Jo?” Your tentative voice sounds strange to your own ears.

“Hmm?” She purrs, barely peeking over her shoulder at you, her cascade of blonde curls fluttering with the slight movement.

“How are you… here, with me?” You query barely above a whisper, afraid your voice could shatter whatever mirage you are experiencing. Her subsequent laugh is what you imagine heaven sounds like.

“I guess you lucked out,” Jo teases, turning towards you with a wry smile. It definitely sounds like her. No matter how long it’s been, you would never forget any part of her. She makes her way back to you, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she adds in a softer tone, reaching forward to brush a strand of y/c/h away from your cheek. She runs her fingers through your hair until all the strands fall through, then she continues trailing her fingers down, stopping to rest her hand atop your heart.

You close your eyes to the sensation of her touch, before moving to rest your own hand on top of hers. She felt completely real. You open your eyes to her intently studying your every feature, and you match her intensity. You were in awe all over again of how much her eyes held; the beauty, grace, strength, discernment, and the love. All captured in the beautiful depth of her eyes. Suddenly, you can’t stand any distance between you for a second longer, and you crash your lips to hers. Your mouths meld in a perfectly familiar unison, her warmth seeping into your veins and making your heart soar.

You don’t care if this is real or a dream, all that matters is that you have your arms around her again in this moment.

-------

“Are you okay?” Jo places a hand on your cheek, bringing your vision back into focus on her. The grey of the whatever recurring flash you were having fades, replaced by the haze you have grown to associate with this world with Jo back.

“I’m fine, Jo.” You give her a weak smile. Honestly, you couldn’t explain it, but you felt more drained every day. These flashes were interrupting your days and nights, more and more. A feeling of foreboding had started to creep into your mind, like a shadow in the corner of your eye that you couldn’t see, but persisted in following you.

“Let’s boogie, baby.” You take Jo’s hand with a wink, pushing past your underlying fear. She smiles as she tries smoothing a stray piece of hair back into one of the bobby pins holding up your 50’s style hair. Her eyes linger on your neck and the newly acquired tattoo placed there. It’s a blue rose, complimenting her own red one, which both have stems that twist into an infinity sign. You notice her gaze and hook her pinky with yours.

“Forever,” you whisper.

“And always,” she answers immediately, before you tug on her hand, and you both run into the dance hall, Johnny Cash enveloping you as soon as your feet hit the dance floor. You lift Jo’s hand in yours above your head, spinning her in a circle around you; the ending note to ‘Ring of Fire’ propels her back into your arms. Looking around at the rest of the couples on the dance floor, a realization dawns on you, and you look to Jo with a nervous chuckle.

“Not to ruin the fun, but I think I read that flyer wrong.” Other than you and Jo, no one else in the auditorium was below fifty, and not a one dressed up in vintage 50’s outfits. Jo follows suit and takes a look around you both. When she finally turns her attention back to you, she’s biting her lip, barely holding back her laughter.

“You could technically still cross ‘50’s party’ off of your bucket list,” she offers, laughter dancing in her eyes.

“I’ll take it. Seeing you in that dress is worth it.” You both laugh, before you realize you were starting to get looks from the other dance floor occupants.

“I say we make a grab for the cookies and dash,” Jo leans in to whisper by your ear. Nodding vigorously, you both casually make your way to the refreshment table. You eye the path to the door, while Jo secures the goods.

“On the count of three. One, two, three!” You grab Jo’s arm and make a run for it; you hear her squeal as a few cookies jump ship mid-flight. You look over your shoulder, making sure Jo is still on your tail, and she gives you a wild grin. You grin back, and with a final bound, you’re bursting out of the doors. But as the doors clang shut behind you, the laughter dies in your throat at the sight to greet you.

A ghostly pale boy stands, or more accurately sways, yards away from you. He looks like he hasn’t been bathed or even fed, in weeks. A chill seems to emanate from around him, sending goosebumps down your arms, and a gripping fear to your heart. He slowly raises his hand to hold it out to you. You continue to stare into his face, and you can’t help but feel a sense of familiarity.

Finally, he turns and starts walking away, but he looks over his shoulder as he goes. You can feel Jo’s pull on your arm, but her voice is drowned out by the urge to follow him. You hurry after him, away from the dance hall, down back roads, and through abandoned buildings. Each step is heavier than the last, and even though Jo follows closely behind you glowing steadily, the world around her darkens.

After what seems like hours of hiking, with your dress torn and your hair in complete disarray, the boy stops in front of a crumbling factory. The door suddenly swings inward, and you take a deep breath, trying to stop the panic starting to swell as you slowly remember why the boy looks familiar.

The first flash, several newspaper clippings of missing children from a local orphanage, the most recent being the boy standing in front of you. Then, you remember driving through an old business park, sending a quick text to the Winchester’s, your closest hunting confidantes. ‘Scoping out a djinn, if you don’t hear from me in forty-eight hours, guess I might be decommissioned.’ You follow it up with the address to the business park, just in case.

Next thing, you make your way through the third building, the dilapidated factory you can’t bring yourself to enter now. You turn one corner, only to be blindsided from the very next. Your knife dipped in lambs blood only grazes the djinn’s ear, but its blow doesn’t miss, and you’re sent reeling to the floor and into the djinn’s illusion of a world.

The flashes stop, but your mind won’t stop reeling. You feel like the air has been punched out of you as reality and your world with Jo swirl in and out of focus. You realize Jo is tugging on your arm, and you turn to face her. You take a shuddering step back when you see her as she was in her last moments; her face pale, pain evident in her eyes, and blood everywhere, you looked on her body.

“No, no, no, no, please,” you beg in a whisper as you squeeze your eyes shut. You tentatively open them and the glowing, steadfast Jo you remember is standing there again.

“It's okay, y/n, you don't have to go. You can stay with me, and and we’ll get back all those years and plans, and dreams that they took from us,” Jo soothes, smiling encouragingly. You nod and step toward her again, letting her hand slip into yours. But you suddenly feel another, smaller hand close around your other hand; looking down, you see the little boy’s tired eyes pleading with you, and you feel your grip on Jo loosening.

“Y/n, don't let go!” Jo beseeches, but her voice sounds far away. You feel like you're in slow motion as your eyes try to find their way to hers. She's there, inches from you, leaning closer and closer… You close your eyes, ready to feel the impact of her lips on yours… But it never comes. All you feel is the cold. You drag your eyes open and Jo is gone, along with any light the world had held.

“Y/n? Hey, you with us?” An insistent voice comes from above you. Looking up, you see it belongs to Dean Winchester, busy untying the ropes binding your hands. When you're finally freed, he catches you before your legs can give out, carrying you briskly from the dark building.

“Where is she?” Your voice comes out raspy as you try and look around you, wishing you could just catch a glimpse of golden hair.

“Who? The djinn? It's okay, Sam took care of it,” Dean tries to reassure but you shake your head weakly.

“No, no. Jo, where is Jo!?” You inquire again, more frantic this time, sobs starting to shake you. Dean stops in his tracks, only looking down at you with sad eyes and a shake of his head, before holding you tighter to him and continuing to the safety of the Impala.

------

You step through piles of debris, shards of glass crackling underfoot. The breeze rustling your hair makes this ghost town feel even colder. Your final steps before you're standing in front of the remains of the exploded hardware store are heavy. When Jo first died, you couldn't bring yourself to come here, to see where her life was extinguished and her ashes were indiscernibly buried. It's been three years to the day, and it was time to face the truth you’ve tried running from, for too long.

Jo is gone. She's not coming back, and you are going to have to find a way to live on without her. Sometimes you didn't know how you made it through the day when you remember her with every ache of your heart, but one thing you were resolute on, is that you would not let the devil win. Jo sacrificed herself to rid the world of him, to save you and everyone she loved. You would be damned, just like Lucifer, if you let her death mean nothing.

“Thank you, Jo. I love you,” you utter to the wind, hoping it will carry your words to Jo.

#meg's birthday challenge #supernatural #supernatural family #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fic #jo harvelle #jo x reader #reader x jo #jo harvelle fic #spn fanfic #spn fandom #spn fan fiction

Thank you to all who have submitted their stories for my challenge! Below is a compiled list of all the stories, along with their pairings, songs, and authors.

#meg's birthday challenge #masterlist #mobile masterlist #spn #supernatural #fic recommendations #spn fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #spn fanfiction #fic #spn fic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #reader x dean #reader x sam #reader x cas #reader x jo

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

Sweet Talker

Prompt: Jo’s always had a hard time making friends - freak with the knife collection, y’know? But not everyone is so quick to judge.

Word Count: 2,171

Warnings: Alcohol use!

Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted more teams of lady hunters in SPN. We had Jo and Ellen, which was awesome, but sisters, cousins, friends-? More lady hunters! More female friends in general!

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

The bar is full to bursting, girls dancing, guys- sort of swaying. You've parked yourself at the bar counter though, a break from the humid press of warm bodies, and to maybe get some answers. "Is there a reason you've been watching me the entire evening?" You ask the bartender, chewing at the end of your drink straw. Her lips quirk, just the semblance of a smile and she lifts a shoulder in a loose shrug. "It's sort of my job to watch everyone," she tells you, leaning closer over the bar, the better to be heard. She brushes the blonde curl of her ponytail back over her shoulder as she stands and then focuses on what's in front of her: mixing drinks.

It occurs to you, through the haze of alcohol in your brain, that it may sound like you're hitting on - your eyes dart to her name-tag - Jo. She is gorgeous, with the curls, cupid-bow lips and dark eyes, but embarrassment starts to crawl down your spine. "I wasn't hitting on you," you blurt and then rub your palm down your cheek, groaning. "I'm sorry, I just realized- I was being serious though. I kind of felt like I had done something wrong, like you thought I was stealing or-" Dimples flash in her cheeks, lips parting in a silent laugh, or, well, unheard laugh as the music is a little too loud to catch it. Jo waves your words away, one dimple remaining as she places another glass in front of you. "Hardly, and here, on the house. I've seen you in here before, you have a good streak a mile wide. You'd be the last person I would peg for stealing or bad behavior in general." She pauses as someone pushes through the press of people, asking for tequila and accepts their card when they ask to keep their tab open. You're not so drunk that you don't notice her side-stepping your actual question. She doesn't think you're up to no good (and now knows you're not trying to be coy), but she's still been watching you, tracking your movements the entirety of the night. Unhooking your feet from the rungs of the bar-stool, you straighten, wondering whether you should pursue the topic or just walk away. You are here with a friend and- the thought makes you stop, turning to look over the crowd. There's not so many people that you shouldn't be able to spot Tim - he towers over most people at 6'4" anyway, but you can't see him anywhere. Maybe he's in the bathroom. "So is the lanky guy your boyfriend?" Jo asks, sliding a Jack and Coke to a man two stools down. "Tim?" Oh, she's interested in Tim! Well, this makes the whole ordeal awkward. "No, seriously, he's like my brother. If you're into him, he will totally-" Jo stops you, just barely keeping back the grin that's tugging at her lips. "What? No! I'm s- well, I'm interested in someone else." Her smile fades. "Unrequited feelings? I've been there." You raise your glass to her, delighted when she pours herself a shot and clinks it against your glass before the both of you drink. "Okay," she states, wrinkling her nose as she sets to cleaning the shot glass. She's looking down, focused on her work, but the clipped tone of her voice says pay attention. "The reason I've been watching you? There's this guy who comes in, and so far, he's been fine, but he's a- he gives off a creep vibe, you know? I've been watching you because he's been watching you. And I'm not just going to let monsters do their thing in my bar." Jo's eyes flicker to yours, her mouth set in a grim line. The knowledge is sobering, but your appreciation for Jo makes you smile. "Jo, you are one classy woman. Friends?" You reach out a hand, cocking an eyebrow when Jo just blinks, as if no one ever offers her their friendship. "You shake my hand, we hang out outside the bar, you know," you prompt. Hesitant, as if she's afraid you might withdraw your offer and shout "Psych!" she reaches out and clasps her hand around yours. "Friends - but I can't really be friends with someone if I don't know their name." "Shit, I've been rude, haven't I? I'm Y/N, and it is a pleasure to meet you Jo." This time when you smile, Jo answers with one of her own. "Pleasure," she murmurs, and then her eyes dart to a spot over your shoulder, her expression darkening. A man sits in the stool next to yours, angling his body towards you, elbow on the counter and whiskey glass in hand. He's handsome, though you don't know why you expected him to look bad, and without glancing at Jo, you already know that this is the man she's wary of. He has dark curls and darker eyes, a well groomed and trimmed beard and he's wearing a very expensive suit. "And hello to you, my fine lass," he says, Irish brogue so thick it's almost tangible. You can't quite help it, something about him seems to make your head a little heavy, your eyelids droop, but your eyes flicker to Jo, noting the anger in her shoulders. She opens her mouth, ready to say something, but another guy stumbles when he leans against the bar, waving her down. "Yo, bar lady! Someone is taking flipping ages in the bathroom, it's been nearly twenty minutes!" The guy makes a well, are you going to do something about it? gesture, arm out to the side as he waits for Jo to answer him. "I'll be right there," she tells the guy before leaning over the counter and grabbing your hand. She places a handful of folded up ones in your palm, closing your fingers over them. "Your change, ma'am," she explains, eyes trying to convey something. It isn't until she's walking away that you realize the heaviness in your head is gone. You pocket the ones, blinking when you notice the salt on your fingers. "Ready to get out of this place?" The Irish man asks, as if you've had an entire conversation with him. No wonder Jo said this guy gave off creepy vibes, who the hell just assumes they're taking someone home when they haven't even spoken? "In your dreams, man. I'm not here to hook up," you tell him, gripping your drink a little tight when he frowns at you. He looks fucking angry, eyebrows lowered and lips tight. "I said, are you ready to leave?" He asks, putting extra emphasis on the words. Woah, your head is starting to ache, like you've skipped the drunkenness and gone straight to hangover. What the fuck? There was no way this guy roofied you, he hadn't even gotten close enough to- "Seriously, you need to back off," you tell him, just as chaos erupts near the bathrooms. Someone is screaming over the music and people are starting to scatter. You think you hear the word blood and then someone shouting for the police before you see Jo, eyes wild as she emerges from the hallway, meeting yours over the crowd. It looks like she's mouthing the word run, but- Fingers like steel wrap around your bicep, hauling you off of your bar-stool. You reach out, trying to grab onto something, and only succeed in upending your drink all over the bar, fingernails scratching uselessly at the lacquered wood. "Let me go!" Unfortunately, your shout is all but useless. People are still in a panic over whatever happened in the bathroom and as the man begins to drag you through the crowd, that heaviness is back, flickering at the edges of your eyes. Despite the pain, you're still resisting, trying to dig in your heels, beating at his grip on your arm and continuing your angry tirade - but you're horrified when you realize your words are beginning to slur. "It seems that we've been interfered with, haven't we, my lass? Not to worry, you'll be much more comfortable soon." When he clears the doors, your feet tripping over the door-frame, he hauls you into his arms, smiling brightly at a couple whispering just outside. "Can never hold her liquor, this one!" He tells them and something in your stomach twists when they laugh, though it's a bit strained, and go back to their conversation. Probably discussing whatever happened inside and - god, Jo looked so freaked, and you still haven't seem Tim and your body is betraying you, going limp the longer his skin is in contact with yours and- The cock of a gun reaches through the pulse of pain in your head, making you roll your neck to glance over his shoulder. It's Jo. "Put the girl down, now, and I might think twice about shooting you in the face." And if you thought she was gorgeous before, it's nothing compared to now. She's standing up straight, expression fierce, with all the grace of an avenging angel, pointing the gun at the Irishman and holding it steady. Friends with Jo? You want to worship her, because she's actually trying to save you. "A little huntress, eh? Well, that explains her resistance. Did you slip her some salt and iron? T'wasn't enough, obviously, but points for tryin', my dear." The Irishman shrugs and it makes your world spin, your head dipping back as you fight to stay awake. "Do I look like I'm here to have a nice, fireside chat? I said, put her down!" Jo takes a couple steps closer. "Feel... drunk," you murmur, trying to warn Jo. Something about his touch, and, hell, he's letting her get close, wants to- "Don't.... tou-" The Irishman shakes you, and you think that you might be sick. Somewhere in the back of your head, you hope your get sick all over the front of him. Jo has the gun less than two feet away from him now, pointed straight at his face when - he drops you. Your head bounces off the pavement, pain lancing through your temple, but almost immediately the sleepy-sick haze vanishes. You watch as the Irishman tries to grab Jo's arm, but his hands slide off, as if her bare arms are coated in something slick and- The Irishman is screaming, holding his hands out, which are red and blistered. "Saint John's Wort oil, asshole," Jo bites out, smile nasty as she pulls the trigger and the shot echoes in the parking lot. "And a healthy dose of iron," She declares, standing over the Irishman as he coughs and splutters and- he's smoking, and withering, and- "When you said monster, you meant-" If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, you would have written it off as someone on drugs. "The Irish call them Gancanaugh or Sweet Talker. They make humans, specifically women, addicted to their touch and then," Jo pauses, eyes darting to your horrified face. "He's gone now, Y/N, that's all that matters. Let's call you a cab and then, well, let's just get you home." Jo helps you up, face expressionless. "So I take it we're not going to hang out tonight," you tease, shaking as Jo helps you walk. Surprised, she looks at you quickly and then away, lips curled in a frown. "You still want to be friends with me?" She asks and hell, things must be hard, she sounds so- "You saved my life, why wouldn't I want to be friends with you?" You're still god damn wobbly. The sleep haze might be gone, but apparently there are after-effects to- "Wait, you said addicted to his touch? Am I going to-" "Did he kiss you?" She interrupts. "No. Just carried me." You look down and then wince, wishing you hadn't. Where your temple hit the pavement is sore to the touch and pain shoots through it with every pulse of blood. "I think you'll be fine. It's- He didn't do what he set out to do. And, I'm sorry." Jo whispers the last, face still tense, not looking at you. You stop, making her stumble, and stare at her, wondering why it is- Tim. "The bathroom," you murmur, voice rough. "He went after Tim so-" Jo's silence is answer enough. Something aches inside your chest, but you don't cry. You must be in shock, because all you can think is that she's wrong. You're going to get back to the bar and Tim will be fine. Just knocked out, or- "Whatever happened, or, or- I don't blame you, Jo. You saved me." You carry on, Jo's arm still snug around your middle. Up ahead, blue and red lights are flashing in front of the bar. "Anyway, after this," you rasp," I think I'm going to need some ice cream and a friend." "I think I can manage that much." Jo still looks sad, but she holds on tight and keeps you steady on your feet.

#jo harvelle #jo x reader #reader x jo #supernatural oneshots #spn oneshot

house crush [10]

summary: after the week of yearning it finally happens-- Jo and yn have their moment. masterlist

And every single time you caught him looking, he looked away too late.

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions

Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming

summary: Coming home for Christmas is supposed to feel familiar, not like the beginning of something new.

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

pairing: &team jo x reader

wc: 859

a/n: @astrae4 's secret santa gift exchange for @lune-net! sorry it's late but I hope you enjoy it!!

taglist applications: open

This year the sadness is still there, but it is no longer in charge.

When he looks up and smiles, your chest flutters, not painfully, but sharply, like it is waking up from a long sleep.

For some reason, you say yes before you think it through.

Suddenly, you are fake dating Jo for Christmas.

Then the snowstorm hits.

“I know this was supposed to be fake,” he says quietly, “but I don’t want it to be.”

Your heart stumbles.

“I’d choose you,” he adds. “Not because of family promises, not because it is Christmas. Just because I want to.”

When he kisses you, it is gentle and sure, like he has been holding this in longer than you realised. Snow clings to your hair. The town hums softly around you.

And suddenly, home is not just the place you came back to.

It is him. It is this moment. It is the quiet certainty that this Christmas is not an ending but the beginning of something you are finally ready to stay for.

Requests: Open ♡

Taglist: @lune-net

#&team fluff #&team #&team x reader #&team jo #asakura jo #jo fluff #asakura jo x reader #reader x jo #reader x &team #andteam fluff #andteam #andteam jo

Mundane 1/–

Summary: It was just like any other math class with Jo, him saying bs and you never listening.

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Title: Another Life, Another Dream

Pairing: Jo x reader

Theme song: The One That Got Away by Katy Perry

Word count: 1,849

Warnings: angst, mentions of death

“Jo?” Your tentative voice sounds strange to your own ears.

“Hmm?” She purrs, barely peeking over her shoulder at you, her cascade of blonde curls fluttering with the slight movement.

You don’t care if this is real or a dream, all that matters is that you have your arms around her again in this moment.

-------

“Forever,” you whisper.

“You could technically still cross ‘50’s party’ off of your bucket list,” she offers, laughter dancing in her eyes.

“I’ll take it. Seeing you in that dress is worth it.” You both laugh, before you realize you were starting to get looks from the other dance floor occupants.

“No, no, no, no, please,” you beg in a whisper as you squeeze your eyes shut. You tentatively open them and the glowing, steadfast Jo you remember is standing there again.

“Where is she?” Your voice comes out raspy as you try and look around you, wishing you could just catch a glimpse of golden hair.

“Who? The djinn? It's okay, Sam took care of it,” Dean tries to reassure but you shake your head weakly.

------

“Thank you, Jo. I love you,” you utter to the wind, hoping it will carry your words to Jo.

Thank you to all who have submitted their stories for my challenge! Below is a compiled list of all the stories, along with their pairings, songs, and authors.

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Sweet Talker

Prompt: Jo’s always had a hard time making friends - freak with the knife collection, y’know? But not everyone is so quick to judge.

Word Count: 2,171

Warnings: Alcohol use!

Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted more teams of lady hunters in SPN. We had Jo and Ellen, which was awesome, but sisters, cousins, friends-? More lady hunters! More female friends in general!

#jo harvelle #jo x reader #reader x jo #supernatural oneshots #spn oneshot

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