Call me Jules, f, 37, Germany, 18+ blog fanfic writer / SPN / Marvel / fluff / smut / giggles / sucker for reading, cooking, crocheting, music, art, movies, dancing, binging series, lavender, piglets, Henry Cavill, gin tonic
Asks are always open - I love to talk to you / If you have a request, shoot - but I won't make promises
MASTERLIST
Dean, Sam, Cas, Crowley, Gabriel, Gadreel, Benny, Charlie, Kevin, BobbyâŠif I want them to live, they will. And I will give them a hell of a good time while they walk through my fics. Fun, fluff, very little drama/angst and a whole stall of lemons. Destiel is sometimes implied, but so far I stick to M/F and reader insert.
One (or Two or Three) Shots
A hunt, some fluff, some smut, a new diner around the corner, a handsome man/monster, the king of hell with a pipe, some PWP, a bit of drama, dirty talk with a tipsy Sam, friendships, smut and happy endings.
CHANGE OF UNIVERSE:
(Part 1)Â Â (Part 2)Â Â (Part 3)Â Â (Part 4)Â Â (Part 5)Â Â (Part 6)Â Â (Part 7)Â Â (Part 8)Â Â (Part 9)Â Â (Part 10)Â Â (Part 11)Â Â (Part 12)Â Â (Part 13)Â Â (Part 14)Â Â (Part 15)Â Â (Part 16)Â Â (Part 17)Â Â (Part 18)Â Â (Part 19)
Crowley x Reader; fun, fluff, domestic fluff, friendship, first hunt, vacation with Crowley, a lot of cooking, hunter trainingâŠto be continued
Imagine, you were thrown from your own kind of peaceful and uneventful  life into the Supernatural-universe. No extra powers, just your normal  self.
You meet the famous Winchesters, Castiel and someone else. Will you adapt to the Hunterâs life or will you use all of your energy to find a way home or despair.
BUNKER GAME NIGHT
Reader, the Winchesters and some angels, humans and a certain reign of the underworld play games and there is hilarity and/or smut.Â
CAMPING
A tent or two, the Winchester brothers, a fire, some shenanigans and of course, smut in the end.
IMAGINES/DRABBLES:
Thoughts from the Heatwave (Castiel)
Thoughts from the heatwave (Castiel Part 2) - smut
When Iâm in the mood, I offer to ship you. So tell me something about you and let me play matchmaker.
Regular fandoms are: Supernatural, Avengers (MCU), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, Southern Vampire Mysteries, Miss Fishers Murder Mysteries (books) and on certain days even Twilight (for the record, I despise Bella and Edward)
Summary: Vanilla Spice - Time to talk things out with Steve and get to the part where we will find out if vanilla will become a spice
Word count: 9294
Warnings: smut!
A/N: Took me a while, a long while. I didn't post anything for a very long time, but someone asked for more of this fic and here it is
It took you a while to get back to the tower. Your brain was so busy with running in circles screaming that you took several wrong turns on your way.
Finally, you were standing in the elevator, rising up to your flat quickly.
When the doors opened, three pairs of eyes stared at you. Pietro showed a shit eating grin. âI should go for a run through the park to control my speed much more often. I didnât expect it to be so interesting.â
When you tried to walk by, Bucky stopped you with a hand on your arm. âWe already know that you eating a popsickle gets an explicit rating, but unfortunately, the fastest mouse of Sokovia wasnât close enough to hear anything.â
âI didnât want to ruin my shirt, so I had to make quick work of the ice.â You knew how that sounded even before Loki chuckled beside you. âJust tell this to yourself, love. Maybe you will believe it one day.â
âWhy am I even talking to you?â rolling your eyes, you tried once more to reach your door, only to have your way blocked by the raven haired god. The two other men stood so close, you had no chance to run.
âYou can chose, doll,â Bucky drawled, looking down at you with amusement. âYou can either invite us in for a cup of tea and a nice chat or we can wait until Steve returns and ask him.â
 âDo you have some lemon for the tea,â Loki asked ten minutes later as you all sat in your living room with Earl Grey and a plate of shortbread.
âI bet she could write some.â Instead of rolling your eyes for the millionth time, you decided to spare yourself the headache and sip your tea.
âFor you, it would be a very quick one,â you smiled at him sweetly over your cup, earning a chuckle from the super solider and the god of mischief.
âYou had some questions, I believe,â you addressed your company in general. When three mouths opened, you held up your hand.
âOne question per person. And if you go on my nerves, I will sing the Gummy Bears song until you leave.â
 By the time Steve knocked on your door, you were still grinning. The three men left your quarters moments ago and only after JARVIS announced the return of Buckyâs best friend.
âHello (YN/),â the blond man smiled at you, leaning down for a sweet kiss. âI love that I can now do that,â he confessed as he followed you to a sofa, sitting down and turning towards you.
âAs often as you like,â you offered, pulling on leg up and resting your shin on your knee.
âI will come back to that,â Steveâs eyes sparkled, âbut for now, I think we have a conversation to continue.â
Suddenly feeling shy again, you started fiddling with your fingers, hoping for him to continue, because you were clueless at how to approach the topic.
His hand appeared in your line of sight, long fingers wrapped around yours, squeezing reassuringly.
âI donât know, why you are getting nervous, because Iâm the one who was thrown into some very hot fantasies after reading your stories,â he began as you finally looked at him.
Warmth crept over your face and you felt a shot of pride at his words, followed by curiosity. Tilting your head, you waited for him to go on.
âWhen Bucky told me about it,â at this point you interrupted him with a murmured âI am going to braid flowers into his hair and fix it with spray mount,â making Steve laugh out loud. âPlease donât, Iâm very thankful that he did.â
After a moment, he calmed down and cupped your cheek. âYou know,â he started anew, âI really like what you do. You create something out of love for your favorite show and the characters. That shows a lot of passion and creativity. You write very funny encounters, you made me laugh and chuckle a lot. The way you transport the feelings and cope with some things you had to go through... I realized that you often would post a chapter after an especially rough mission...I just wish you would have come to me for comfort.â Blue eyes held yours as his hand rubbed over your leg absentmindedly.
âI didnât know if I should,â you nuzzled your face into his his warm hand. âYou usually disappear into the gym to let of steam.â
âYou can always come to me, with everything.â Steve whispered, leaning forward and placing a loving kiss on your forehead. âI have been your friend for years and will always be.â
âFrom now on, I will,â you promised. âBut I will probably still have the urge to write.â
âAnd you should! I still donât understand why you kept it to yourself and never talked to me about it.â
âI...you know...I was afraid you would think of it as raunchy and be uncomfortable. And look at me different...â you couldnât say another word, still insecure after all the praises he showered you with.
âOh, part of it is...I wouldnât say raunchy, but salacious and sultry. And I liked it...a lot. Some of it left me rather bothered, but not in a bad way,â he smirked.
âSteve,â you began, not sure what you would say next.
âTell me, sugar,â his tone was inviting and you finally spilled your biggest concern.
âYou always seem so composed and even innocent. You chide us all for swearing and are always the perfect gentleman. To me, it felt like I would be corrupting you.â
Grabbing you by your upper arms, Steve pulled you onto his lap in a flash, his lips finding yours, kissing you hungrily. One hand buried in your hair, he tilted you head to deepen the kiss, his tongue licking over the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. When you complied, he stoked your tongue with his, mapping out the cave of your mouth, swallowing your sigh and pulling you as close to him as possible. When he broke the kiss, you were both short of breath, chests raising fast against each other.
âLet me make one thing clear, (Y/N). I desire you, I crave your touch and I canât wait to get you into my bed,â the urge in his avowal had you panting and you could feel the heat tingling in your abdomen.
âWhen I contain my wishes, it is to let you know that you are not some quick ride. I respect you and I cherish our relationship. I donât want to rush or pressure you. I know, I have a reputation to uphold in public and I think we should take care of our words because it will define our actions, but I am neither innocent nor chaste.â As if to emphasize his last words, he grabbed your hips and positioned you so that you could feel the hard bulge in his trousers. A soft moan fell from your lips and you stared at him in surprise.
âThis is what happens every time I read the juicy parts of your stories. I wonder if you would want to do those things with me, because I for sure would do that in a heartbeat with you.â
A smug smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you leaned in to kiss along Steveâs jaw to his ear. âI was thinking of you every time I wrote smut in the past six months,â you words ghosted over his skin, making him groan and tightening his hold on you.
âYou think this here could rank as a third date? If we count the encounter at Stephenâs as the first and our lunch as second?â His fingers were massaging your hips, his words came out breathlessly.
âI think that would be legit,â you mused. âItâs not like we just met. We were out for meals and movies countless timesâŠâ
You were interrupted when he crashed his mouth to yours, his tongue parting your lips, seeking yours. Your affirmation was all he needed.
Steveâs hands fanned out over your behind, squeezing and pulling your hips into his, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal once more.
He shivered under you when you pushed your hands under his shirt, stroking the soft skin at his waist over his ribs and up to his chest, feeling his nipples hardening under your touch.
âOh my god, (Y/N),â he moaned against your lips, a large hand finding his way under the hem of your shirt, his fingers kneading along your back up to your neck, hoisting your shirt up in the process. The fabric caught under your breasts, leaving your stomach bare to his touch.
âYou think, we could get rid of this?â Steve asked you, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.
âHmmm...asking for permission, I like that,â you mumbled against his neck, nibbling a path up to his chin.
âIf you want me to, I will ask for your consent for every piece you are wearing and everything I do, butâŠ,â he let go of your shirt and buried a hand in your hair above your neck, pulling you head back suddenly, catching your surprised stare, âI expect an answer if I ask you a question.â A smirk tugged at his full lips and something sparkled in his eyes.
When you still said nothing, but kept looking at him with wide eyes, he pulled your head towards him until his breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. âLast chance, sugar. Tell me if you want me to get rid of this shirt and hopefully every single piece of fabric that keeps me from touching you the way I want. I want to hear you say yes or no. If you say yes,â he bit down gently on your ear, lowering his voice and octave, making your heart stutter, âI will rip this shirt of you and ensure that you will never ever call me Captain Vanilla again.â
Leaning back, still holding you by the hair, Steve looked into your eyes, a gentle smile forming on his beautiful face. âIf you say no, I will cuddle and kiss you for the rest of the evening and not ask again today,â The smirk was back, âbut maybe in a few days, because I really yearn for you.â
âShit, Steve!â you gasped, liquid heat shooting through your body, making your head dizzy. At a final tug at your hair, you managed to spill out words of affirmation, âYes! Yes to every piece of clothing as long as you will match me in the end, I want you.â
With a growl, Steve let go of your hair and fisted both hands into the fabric of your shirt. A ripping sound, a few flying rags and you were left in your bra, Steveâs eyes immediately fixing on the swell of your breasts.
âFucking hell!â, he breathed as he lowered his head to your collar bone, kissing and sucking a way down between your breasts. Your hands gripping his broad shoulders, you arched into his touch.
Between a gasp and a pant, you laughed out a âlanguage, Cap!â
Coming up to your face for a fiery kiss, Steve landed one hand on your hip, pulling you down on him, and one on the clasp of your bra.
âBetter get used to it, darling, you will hear a lot more of that and all the things I want to do to you.â With a flick of his wrist, your bra fell open and Steve gently pried you hands from him to lay you back down on the sofa, slipping the straps over your arms. Looking down at you, his heated gaze taking in your bare upper half, Steveâs face got a dreamy expression.
âYou are beautiful, I canât wait to see all hot and shivering under me.â
His words caused a short circuit in your brain and a rush of moisture flooded your panties.
âSteve,â you gasped as he leaned down to capture a nipple between his plush lips, letting his tongue flick over it again and again until your were panting.
âHmmm...I like the way you say my name,â he mused, licking a path down your stomach towards the button of your pants. âWhat will you sound like if I bury my face between you legs?â
The want in his expression as he looked up at you made you hips buck involuntarily. God, this was better than every dream you had of Steve. So much better. The way he talked and let you know how much he wanted you.
Your hands flew to your pants, opening the button and tugging down the fly, Steve watched your every move as you pulled your jeans and panties down as far as you could reach.
âLet me help you, darling,â sitting back on his haunches, Captain not-so-vanilla pulled the fabric off your legs and threw it over the back of the couch.
Blazing blue eyes bore into your glazed over orbs, the short flutter of his eyelids showing how much he tried to solely focus on your face.
âYou still sure about this? You can still opt our for todayâŠâ
Rising up, you threw your arms around Steveâs neck, pulling hin into a hungry kiss. Licking his mouth open, you met his tongue stoke for stroke until you were both short of breath.
âYes, Steve, I still want you and I still want this,â letting go of him, you fell back into the soft cushions.
âThen be a good girl and open your legs for me,â Steveâs voice was barely more than a growl. Taking your right calf, he put it on the sofaâs backrest and pushed your other one over the edge of the seat. You didnât resist, but suddenly felt very naked and exposed as the still fully clothed super soldier crawled down your body until he settled down between your wide spread legs.
You jerked when his breath fanned above your already soaked folds.
âYou know, you donât have to do that,â you started with an unsteady voice, but were interrupted by two big hands sliding under your ass and taking your globes in a hard grip.
âSugar, as much as I love to talk to you about anything in this and all the other realms, I politely ask for you to shut the fuck up unless you want to moan, scream my name of tell me to stop.â With that, Steve leaned in and licked a broad stripe along your folds. And another. Every time he let his tongue dip in a little deeper between your outer lips until the tip first hit your entrance and then the hooded nub at the top.
âOoooh goddess,â you moaned, tilting your hips up to give him better access. âMore!â you demanded, feeling the heat rising in your body and a spring getting winded up with every touch.
âOh yes, darling, just like that, open up for me,â Steve hummed his praises against your sensitive cunt, making you shiver. You could feel him smile at your reaction a split second before he completely parted your folds with his thumbs and dived in, swirling his tongue around your entrance and sucking on your engorged clit until you were a moaning and panting mess on the brink of an orgasm.
âFuck! Steve! PleaseâŠ,â your voice was strangled, âI canât hold...much longer.â You wriggled you hips, trying to escape the onslaught of his mouth, only for him to push your legs wider with his shoulders and sliding two thick fingers into your overflowing cunt.
âThen donât. Donât wait, donât hold on. Just come, I want you to!â Curling his fingers, he sucked hard on your clit, flattening his tongue against it. And off into the abyss you flew.
With a sob, your walls convulsed around his fingers, sucking them deeper into you as you rode the wave of ecstasy, pushing your groin against Steveâs face, rewarding him with muffled cries and a flood of wetness.
Slowly extracting his fingers, Steve gently lapped your juices up with a hum, letting you down gently.
For a long moment, all you could do was lay there boneless, try to catch your breath and your thoughts.
âGod, that was great,â Steve smiled, finally tugging his shirt over his head, wiping his glistening face on it before it became another decoration for your living room. Scooting up on the sofa, he caught you in his arms, kissing your temple, your cheek and finally finding your lips.
You could still taste a trace of yourself on him, reminding you that he really ate you out like a super human. Throwing one leg above his hip, you rubbed your still tingling middle against the hard bulge in his pants.
âToo many clothes,â you bit his full bottom lip, raking your nails over his chest, making the tall man hiss.
âYou sure, youâre ready for more?â There was gentleman Steve again, caressing your back and engulfing you in the warmth of his embrace.
âIf you donât get naked and inside of me, I will add a âplainâ to the vanilla,â you teased, smacking his firm ass.
With a chuckle, your lover rose from the sofa and slowly unbuttoned his trousers, watching you as your eyes followed his every move.
âI hope you know what you signed up for, sweetheart, because I will not let you out of my reach before I had my fill of you,â he pushed down his trousers.
Your jaw went slack. The modest man of stars and stipes was going commando. No underwear. Just a mouthwatering and slightly intimidating hard cock.
âFuck,â you breathed, clenching your thighs together at the sight.
âIn a moment,â Steve grinned, offering you his hand. âBut we should move this into the bedroom. As much as I want to just bend you over the backrest of your lovely couch, I would prefer to see your face when you come on my cock for the first time.â
His filthy mouth made you fall back onto the sofa. How could you have been so wrong and at the same time so damn happy about it. Steve was far away from innocent, plain and pure. In private, he was no better than any of the characters you wrote and that set your skin on fire and made your knees too wobbly to stand.
âIf you keep talking like that, I will never make it to the bed,â you confessed, licking your lips and rubbing your hands over your thighs absentmindedly.
You screamed in surprise, when Steve grabbed you around the middle, threw you over his shoulder, smacked your ass and made a beeline for your bedroom.
A/N: This a special request for a darling friend. Happy Birthday Julia!
âDean, this pit of balls, why is it fun? It is very difficult to move in.â
Dean couldnât help chuckling. The tousled angel was standing waist deep in a fenced in area that was full of small plastic balls in a multitude of colors. Some of them even glowed in the dark. A concession to how late this party was likely to go. Cas started wading out of the middle, looking frustrated. He finally sighed, and simply appeared next to Dean.
âThat was strangely irritating.â
âCome on, Cas!â Dean was fiddling with the settings on the giant machine that was going to dispense frozen margaritas, if he ever got it running. Damned rental crap. He did grin at the angel though. âWhereâs your inner child?â
âAs you are well aware I have none, internal or otherwise. What does a fantasy child have to do with it?â Castiel looked even more confused. Dark blue eyes watching Deanâs hands move inside the guts of the machine. The parts started moving.
âHa! Gotcha!â Dean closed the panel on the machine and started pouring in mixer and a fantastic amount of booze. âThe pit is supposed to be hard to get through. Itâs like swimming without getting wet. Plus you can burrow through them, surprise people, and throw them at kids that piss you off. Trust me, as a kid itâs a party by itself.â
âIf you say so.â Cas looked around. Tables were set up already. One to eat at and one covered in food. The food table was huge. He wasnât sure who had put his brother in charge of food, but Gabriel had not disappointed. Cas was certain the âpartyâ food would be good. Gabriel was very aware of what humans enjoyed. However, Cas could smell the sugar from over here.
âI believe Gabriel may have taken the cake part of his assignment a bit far. Is Julia diabetic?â Dean puckered his eyebrows, glancing over at the table.
âNot that Iâm aware ofâŠâ Dean wandered over to the food, leaving the margaritas to start freezing, the paddle turning everything into delicious slush.
The table was loaded with nothing but junk food. Dean approved heartily. Pizza, burgers, chicken, all looked damn fine. He approved of an excess of meat and very litle rabbit food. Though it seems Gabe left out a veggie tray. A concession to Samâs girly figure, no doubt. He snatched a chip out of a bowl and moved down to the end.
Ok, so the sweets end of the table absolutely groaned under the weight of many many sugar comas waiting to happen. There was no way the pack of them was going to eat this much, no matter how drunk they got. Then again, Dean was eyeing the pie section speculatively. Gabriel had totally won his heart.
âNah, itâll be fine, Cas. Itâs angel stuff. He can just poof it away, right?â
âWell, yes, he can, technically. It just seems like a waste.â The angel sighed. Dean grinned at him and popped a cookie in his mouth.
âWait wait wait! Charlie, catch it! Hold it down.â Samâs voice broke the stillness as he and Charlie both tried to tackle a giant balloon castle. Gabriel was bent over, laughing himself sick as the man and tiny nerd girl both tried desperately to tack down the building before it blew over. Charlie was squealing, hanging onto a turret as Sam drove stakes into the ground as fast as he could.
âOh Father, thatâs never going to stop being funny!â Gabriel could barely breathe. âYour brother is a genius Dean, I tell ya. Whose idea was it to team him up with the lightweight on giant balloon duty?â
âI donât think I rememberâŠâ Dean trailed off, chuckling as Charlie berated Sam about âliterally leaving me hanging!â Cas cut an eye over at the elder Winchester and answered Gabrielâs question.
âIt was Crowleyâs idea.â Gabe started snickering.
âOf course it was! Brilliant.â
âSo glad you approve.â The roughly accented voice said from behind them. Only Dean twitched, and then turned to glare at the King of Hell. âHello Dean.â He smirked.
âI thought I told you to quit doing that?â Dean groused, fists balling at his sides.
âI believe you did, but me being me I elected to ignore you.â Crowley dismissed Dean with a look and examined the set up. âIt appears everything is in order. Iâll just pop off to fetch our birthday girl, shall I?â He blinked out of existence.
****
The birthday had actually been entirely his idea. The Winchesters and Castiel had wanted to do a little thing at that excuse for a home they called the Bunker. It wasnât what she wanted, and he couldnât believe he was the only one that had picked up on it. Thatâs all right. Crowley had informed them this morning that this was what they were doing. He didnât ask, he just set out assignments. Of course Dean, mouthy excuse for a man that he was, tried to argue with him.
âDean if you knew half of what you think you do about women, especially this one, youâd rule the world. Just sit down and let the real men talk, all right pet? Thereâs a good girl.â
Dean had actually choked on anger and tried to stand up. Sam yanked him back into his seat, rolling his eyes. Dean and his macho ego. It was funny so long as it wasnât getting them in trouble. Sam for one believed that Crowley knew what he was about. Hell, he wanted to give Julia a good birthday. Didnât matter whose idea it was in the end, so long as she was happy.
âHow are you going to keep her from showing up or finding out?â Sam asked. Crowley grinned.
âIâve stuck her in a pocket dimension in her room. She couldnât leave if she wanted to.â
âYou did what?â It was Samâs turn to get mad. âYouâve trapped her?â
âOh calm down Moose. Sheâs not trapped per se. Just all roads lead back to her room. King of Hell, remember? Torture is kind of a thing. Trust me, sheâll thank me later.â Sam was doing that thing with his jaw. It was adorable in the giant puppy.
****
Everything was ready and Crowley popped into your room. You were screaming and throwing things.
âProblem, love?â He couldnât help smirking. She was gorgeous, flushed with anger, dark red hair tangled as she cursed in several languages. She whipped around to him.
âYou!â You pointed an accusing finger. âYou did this! Let me out!â
âNow, now, love. I was just trying to be helpful. I know how much you love your private time.â His eyes were darkly suggestive as he looked at you. Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to start screaming at him. He snapped and you went silent, voice gone.
âYouâre going to ruin the surprise. Take a deep breath and close your eyes.â You looked at him, eyes narrowed in anger, but shook your head, refusing.
âOh weâre going to play that game are we? Fine.â He stepped up behind her, pressing close, his hands coming up from behind to cover her eyes. Warm breath, smelling slightly of the smoky scotch he preferred, fanned across her cheek.
âSurprise, love.â
His hands pulled down to reveal the party scene. It was all there, just like sheâd secretly wanted. Bouncy castle, ball pit, margaritas, acres of food, and all her favorite people. They yelled surprise and her hands flew to her mouth, hiding the squeal of glee.
âYouâre welcome.â Crowley growled, slapping her ass as he moved past her, headed for the table. Oh, she had some choice words for him, but Charlie tackled her first.
âJules omg! Happy birthday!â She twitched slightly at the use of the nickname. Only Charlie ever did it, but still.
âThanks Charlie. Thanks for coming! Wow, this is awesome. Did you guys really do all of this for me?â Sam came up, kissing her softly on the cheek.
âOh we did it, some of us under duress.â He grinned, handing her a small wrapped package. âWe had planned something quiet at home, but CrowleyâŠwell, heâs the one you should thank.â Her eyebrows raised as she looked down the hill. Crowley smiled, smug as hell, and raised a glass her way. Prick.
Dean kissed the other cheek and Cas gave a slightly awkward but very enthusiastic hug. Gabriel just shrugged, grinning crookedly, handing her a margarita and hitching a thumb at the table full of food.
âHope you can find something you like.â He knew damned well you were a complete sucker for everything he had laid out. He was the only one who could have been put in charge of the food. Angel or not, that man was a walking sin of gluttony. You loved him for it.
The party went for hours. When it got dark things lit. The castle had lights inside it, and that was neat as hell. The ball pit with the glow in the dark balls was the most brilliant idea ever. You made Cas come into the castle and bounce with you, loving the angel with no shoes and no coat.
âClose your eyes!â You commanded. You had a hold of his hands, because bouncing with your eyes shut could be really disconcerting. You made him jump high, eyes closed, so he could feel the weightlessness of it. He started smiling.
âItâs like flying.â Which was exactly what it felt like for you too. You were happy that you could give that to the sweet man. You werenât even mad when he came down wrong and yanked you to the floor. The both of you scooted out, laughing and wobbly legged.
Many many margaritas and too much food in you found yourself playing Marco Polo in the ball pit. You kept finding Charlie because she could not stop giggling. The boys were incredibly stealthy for being so damned big. You lunged at a sound and lost your feet. Submerging into the balls, you opened your eyes and it was dark. But a cherry flavored kiss landed on your lips anyway. You grabbed for him but Gabe was gone. Damn that trickster. He did it every time you fell into the pit. You were surprised that no one else pointed it out. Maybe they were being polite.
The presents were so utterly touching. Castiel hadnât known what to get you, so he made it up off the cuff. He handed you a very oddly wrapped package that definitely had something liquid in it. You were concerned that the angel had gotten you some sort of perfume. But when you opened it you found some very old stationary. He knew you lived to write and It seemed appropriate. It was actual parchment and a stoppered glass jar of ink. There was a quill too! Shining black feather tipped in gold. When you held up the feather Gabriel whistled and looked over at Cas.
âNice one, brother.â Your look of confusion landed on him. Gabe shrugged. âItâs his. The feather.â Your eyes widened, awed and touched. You hugged Cas and thanked him.
âBirthday gifts are supposed to be personal.â He rumbled, smiling at the ground.
âMine next!â Charlie bounced forward, handing you something small and flat. When you peeled the paper back it was a cd case with the title âJuliaâs Jamsâ. You laughed at the title and Charlie jumped in to explain.
âOk, so I know you like karaoke but sometimes they donât have stuff that you like everywhere. So I made a CD-G of everything I could find that I knew you liked. Custom karaoke cd!â She winked drunkenly and held up her glass. You laughed and thanked her.
The slim package that Sam had handed you earlier actually had a necklace in it. It was something he must have cobbled together himself. The necklace had an antipossession charm on it, a little vial of salt, and a little silver pistol. Hunter charms! It was delicate and sweet and Sam grinned, flashing those dimples at the ground as you kissed him, getting him to clasp it for you.
Deans was long and heavy. You unwrapped the box and set it on the table. When you took the lid off you found an angel blade in a nest of red satin. Your forehead puckered and you looked up at him. He shrugged.
âThought it was time you had your own.â He grinned and chugged the beer he had. It was his version of saying he cared. He wanted to protect you, but you could damned well protect yourself, especially with the right tools. And it wasnât like they hadnât collected enough of the damned things. You took it for the lovely thought it was.
Then there was Gabriel. You could never read him, mostly because he took nothing in this world seriously, at all, ever. He handed you a box about the size of a dinner plate, wrapped in metallic pink paper and glitter. You practically needed a chainsaw for all the ribbons. Your coordination was not great at the moment. Damn Dean and his margaritas. You finally got the paper shredded and looked at a lovely wooden box with a hinged lid. You lifted the lid hesitantly. Your eyes widened and you pulled out the sparkling confection inside. It was a tiara. An actual full tiara, with real metal and real stones. It was gorgeous.
âHappy birthday, princess.â Gabe winked at you. Charlie squealed and insisted on putting it on you. It wasnât as heavy or uncomfortable as you thought it would be. Charlie had you look at your reflection in the angel blade, of all things. You just stared. You looked amazing! Oh this was going to be a problem. You started giggling and Charlie started forcing everyone to bow to Princess Julia. Dean bowed, pretty well actually, but fell over trying to come back up. Sam called it at that point.
âNope! All right Dean, come on. I think weâre done for the night.â
He got under his brothers arm. He kissed you lightly, wishing you a happy birthday again before Cas popped the three of them back home. Charlie pouted, not wanting to stop. She never had party fun and didnât want to just go home. Gabriel offered to entertain her.
âWrong tree, Woodstock.â She slurred. He laughed at the Snoopy reference, fluffing his hair. In mid fluff he turned into a very sexy blond chick.
âI can do bushes too.â He/she winked. Charlieâs eyes went wide. They wandered away, Charlie singing âAngel Is A Centerfoldâ very loudly and off key. You snickered, glad Charlie was going to get her fun. There was a whole list of people worse to spend a night with. Gabriel would change her world. You only hoped she remembered and gave you the play by play later. That black silk voice slid over your skin, sending chills down your back.
âAnd then it was only two. Was it a good birthday, love?â
You shivered, turning to meet the dark eyes of the King of Hell. He was in that dark suit, with the deep red tie that you loved. He leaned against a convenient tree, his eyes heavy with intent as he looked at you, making a show of taking you in from tiara to shoes. He stood and stalked close.
âHmm, I donât remember giving you a gift.â He purred as he walked a slow and very predatory circle around you. Between his look and his voice you were thinking of all kinds of things he could gift you with. He laughed low and you cursed. Heâd heard you. Of course he had. You were too drunk to block your thoughts.
âOh I like that. In fact, that runs right along with what I had planned. Come on, Princess.â He offered you his arm, and you were just reckless enough to take it.
âLetâs see if I canât worship you properly, your highness.â He leaned close. âHappy birthday, pet.â He purred in your ear. You shivered deliciously and the both of you disappeared.
In answer to the Twitter post, âwhen heâs tall but you wanna be the big spoonâ. This one wasnât on the WIP list I posted two days ago becauseâŠI drew it today. đł
So Iâm on AO3 and I see a lot of people who put âI do not own [insert fandom here]â before their story.
Like, I came on this site to read FAN fiction. This is a FAN fiction site. Iâm fully aware that you donât own the fandom or the characters. Thatâs why itâs called FAN FICTION.
Back in the day, before fan fiction was mainstream and even encouraged by creators⊠This was your âplease donât sue me, Iâm poor and just here for a good timeâ plea.
I worked with one of the women that got contacted by Riceâs lawyers. Scared the hell out of her and she never touched fandom again.
The first time I saw a commission post on tumblr for fanart, I was shocked.
One of the reasons I fell out of love with her writing was her treatment of the fans⊠(that and the opening chapter of Lasher gave me such heebie-jeebies with the whole underage sex thing I felt unclean just reading it.)
I have zero problem with fanart/fic so long as the creators arenât making money off of it. It is someone elseâs intellectual property and people who create fan related works need to respect that (and a solid 98% of them do.)
The remaining 2% are either easily swayed by being gently prompted to not cash in on someone elseâs IP. Or they DGAF⊠and they are the ones who will eventually land themselves in hot water. Either way: this isnât much of an excuse to persecute your entire fanbase.
But Anne Rice went off the deep end with this stuff by actively attacking people who were expressing their love for her work and were not profiteering from it.
The Vampire Chronicles was a dangerous fandom to be in back in the day. Most of the works I read/saw were hidden away in the dark recesses of the internet and covered by disclaimers (a lot of them reading like thoroughly researched legal documents.)
And woe betide anyone who was into shipping anyone with ANYONE in that fandom. You were most at risk, it seemed, if your vision of the characters deviated from the creators âoriginal intentions.â (Hypocritical of a woman who made most of her living writing erotica.)
Imagine getting sued over a headcanonâŠ
Put simply: we all lived in fear of her team of highly paid lawyers descending from the heavens and taking us to court over a slashfic less than 500 words long.
Yep I used to have disclaimers on all my Buffy fic back in the day. The Buffy creators were mostly pretty chill about fandom but itâs not like it is now. You did NOT talk about fandom with anyone except other fandom people and bringing it up at cons was a massive no no because of stuff like this.
I think Supernatural (and Misha Collins specifically) was when that wall between fandom and creators started to break down. Itâs a relatively new thing.
I remember going to a Merlin panel down in London and a girl sitting next to me asked the cast about slash and I thought she was going to get kicked out!
Oh man, let me tell you about the X-Files fandom. Lawyers for FOX sued, threatened, and generally terrified the owners of fan websites on a regular basis. God help you if you wrote or created original art set in their (expansive) universe or worse - dared to write about their characters. Even people who werenât creating fanworks, just hosting Geocities pages about how much people liked the show would be sent C&D orders or actually fined. When I was first discovering the concept, the first rule of fandom was you do not talk about fandom because the consequences could be devastating.
It was such a strange and uncomfortable experience for me when fans in LOTR and Potter fandoms suddenly started shoving their work in peopleâs faces speaking publicly about fandom and wanting to engage in dialogue with the creators and actors of the Thing they were into. Fan stuff was supposed to stay online, in archives and list-serves and zines we passed around because it just wasnât cool to talk about it and it could get you in a boatload of trouble. The freedom we have to create and gather together in a shared space, or actually be acknowledged in any way by people outside the fandom was inconceivable to my fannish, teenaged self. I want fans these days to understand how amazing modern fandom really is, cherish the community, and appreciate what it took to get us here.Â
I was one of the ones who got a love letter from Anne Riceâs lawyers. Bear in mind that up until that point her publisher had encouraged fanfic and worked with the archive keeper (one of my roommates at the time) to drum up publicity for upcoming books and so on.
I could tell such tales of how much Anne screwed over her fans back then. The tl;dr version is that she and her peeps would use fan projects as free market research and then bring in the lawyers once it was felt Anne could make money off of it herself. (Talismanic Tours being one of the most offensive examples of this.)
But where fanfic is concerned not only did we get nastygrams but one of my friends had Anneâs lawyer trying to fuck up her own privately owned business which had NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING ANNE RELATED. Said friend was a small business owner with health issues who wasnât exactly rolling in money, so guess how well that went?
On top of that when yours truly tried to speak out about it I discovered that someone in Anneâs camp had been cyber stalking me to the point where they took all the tiny crumbs of personal information I had posted over the course of five years or so and used it to doxx me (before that was even a term and in early enough days of the WWW that this wasnât an easy task) and post VERY personal information about me on the main fandom message board of the time. Luckily for me the mod was my friend and she took that down post haste, but it was still oodles of fun feeling that violated and why to this day I am very strict about keeping my fandom and personal lives separate online.
Hence why those of us in the fandom at the time who still gave enough of a shit to want to keep writing fic DID keep writing fic, but shoved it so far underground and slapped it with so many disclaimers they couldâve outweighed the word count of War & Peace. It wasnât just for the purpose of protecting fic but for trying to protect our personal lives as well.
(Also would love to know who @tiger-in-the-flightdeck knew. Life paths crossing after so many yearsâŠ.)
Lucasfilm also sent cease-and-desist letters to Star Wars fanzines publishing slash.
My favourite bit I read from one included the idea that you werenât allowed to have any explicit content, of which anything queer, no matter how tame, was included, to âpreserve that innocence even Imperial crew members must be imagined to haveâ.
Yeah. The same Imperial crew members who helped build the Death Star to commit planetary genocide.
(Itâs one reason Sinjir Velus, while I still have some issues with him, feels like such a delicious âf*** youâ.)
Later on, they were apparently persuaded to âallowâ fans to write slash, provided in âremained within the nebulous bounds of good tasteâ.
(On a related note, if I wasnât quite so attached to my URL, I would 100% change it to âNebulous Boundsâ, because thatâs just downright catchy)
Anne McCaffrey had this huge long set of rules about how exactly you were allowed to play in her sandbox. Dragonriders of Pern was my first online fandom, and I was big into the Pern RP scene - and just about every fan-Weyr had a copy of these lists of rules McCaffrey wanted enforced. One of which was âno pornâ and another was basically âit canât be gayâ (and for a while âno fanfiction posted onlineâ? which??? anyway.)
Letâs not forget: the reason AO3 is called âArchive of our ownâ is because it was created in response to some bullshit that assholes were trying to play with fan creators. Basically (if I remember the fiasco correctly) trying to mine fandom creators for content which they could then use to generate ad profit on their shitty websites. When the series creators objected, the fans tried to pull their content, only to find that the website hoster resisted, claiming their content was all his now.
To this day, *talking* about writing or reading fanfiction - just acknowledging that it exists - to anyone other than people I know are in fandom as well, feels like a dangerous act. The strict separation I maintained between my real life identity, my online identity, and my fandom identity (yes, they were separate, because some of the most vicious and mocking people were fellow nerds) has broken down a bit these days, but I donât think Iâll ever be able to integrate them as freely as some younger fans do.
Everybody should know that AO3 is just one project of the Organization for Transformative Works. Their mission is much broader than just hosting a (very good) fanfic site. They do all kinds of fandom history archiving and publish an academic journal, but most importantly, they perform legal advocacy to protect the fair use rights of people who make fanfic or fanart.
The OTW Legal Committeeâs mission includes education, assistance, and advocacy.
We create and post educational materials about developments in fandom-related law on transformativeworks.org and on archiveofourown.org.
We assist individual fans when their fanworks are challenged, we answer fansâ questions about law relevant to fanworks, and we help fans find legal representation.
We partner with other advocacy organizations and coalitions in the U.S. and around the world.
We advocate for laws and policies that promote balance and protect fanworks and fandom.
And much more!
I havenât been involved in fandom stuff all that long, but I find this stuff so fascinating!
whew, i feel old, but thatâs mostly bc i was on forums way way waaaaay too young. but this? yes. all the way. people had password protected forums on the weirdest, most unconventional websites. before you could even be approved by the mods they would search your blog, your other accounts, question you, everything, all because we were broke teens and preteens trying to do something for fun and if someone got in who could doxx you or send your work over to a lawyer? that was it, you were OVER. thatâs also part of where fandom wars and the defense of fandom came from: quote unquote âenemyâ fandoms would infiltrate just to hurt you. @theglintoftherail makes a very good point: ao3 is a goddamn haven. and theyâre a great team of lawyers and people dedicated to protecting fanworks! part of the reason itâs so great is because they know thereâs no one like them out there. they also go to the ends of the damned earth to protect you and to be inclusive, which is why thereâs shit like tentacle porn and underage and dubcon. because theyâre dedicated to protecting readers and creators to the death. they donât advocate for it and they have the extensive rating and tagging system because of that (legit the best tagging system iâve ever seen) but they donât know if youâre dealing with trauma or if you need to get something out. do not forget your fandom, kids. jesus
Iâm just the right age to remember the disclaimers and to have HEARD about the Anne Rice, Anne McCaffrey, and X-Files fiascos, but I was never in any of those fandoms and I was more or less on the tail end of that. I canât imagine having to be scared to tell people I write fanfic. So glad weâve come so far.
Every time I start reading fanfics, I thank all of you people whose neverending resilience and the drive to be creative made it possible for me to consume content freely and without worry đ€
Those who donât know history are doomed to repeat it. Attitudes from the owners of copyrights have become more lenient as they have understood how futile and brand-harming it is to combat fanworks, but the risk for crackdowns is still there. Thankfully, the BBC Sherlock fandom is based on a reimagining of a reimagining of literary works most of which have expired copyrights.
There are still plenty of reasons to actively prevent creators and fic from mixing. Fic is for us, and for litigatory reasons they cannot safely look at it. I bet many of them do, though.Â
Dear followers and bots and porn-sites, have a wonderful New Year's Eve and a great 2022. Stay safe and get your booster. I scored a new job this week and I will see my boss find out on Monday (my 3 months notice was delivered yesterday). Love it.
Summary: The life of Dean Winchester as you experienced it.
Italics indicate song text.
Word count: 979
Warnings: major character death (not described in detail)
A/N: I once wrote this for a challenge, based on CCR's fortunate son, but I didn't make it on time (sorry)
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
They're red, white and blue
And when the band plays "Hail to the Chief"
They point the cannon at you, Lord
The song came from the radio in the Impala as you laid in the back-seat, staring up at the roof of the car, not knowing were you were going, but everything was better than staying and staring at the ashes of your home. The ashes of your family. Burnt down, because some monster went after your once happy family of four. All gone. You were alone in the world, the last survivor.
You thought you would die too, but when you felt hot, foul smelling breath on your face, seeing the ripped apart bodies of your sister, niece and mother over the shoulder of that thing, ready to die, two men burst through the doors, saving you and burning down your world.
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no senator's son, son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
The song played when you were crying and howling, scratching your own arms bloody until Dean locked you into an almost violent hug, his arms and legs around you as you sobbed your voice out in that shabby motel roomâs bed. It was in your head when you wanted nothing more than dying, to make the agony go away and see your family again.
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don't they help themselves, yeah
But when the taxman comes to the door
The house look a like a rummage sale
That song, playing a year later in the bunkerâs kitchen, when Dean was standing at the stove, frying bacon and whistling along the melody. Sam sitting next to you at the table, laughing about Dean, who called you his little sister.
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
You heard the lyrics again, after your first hunt, celebrating at a pub somewhere in the Northwest. Beer, tequila shots, karaoke. The arms of both of your âbrothersâ around your shoulders, praising you for beheading the vampire.
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
Again in the bunkerâs library when Dean finally walked in, holding Castielâs hand in a death grip, raising his chin like he was daring you to make a stupid comment, but simultaneously fearing your reaction. The night ended with beers and toasts to the happy couple. All hearts full of joy and love.
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
The song played at your wedding, when Dean walked you down the makeshift aisle in the woods behind the bunker on a hot summerâs night. Charlie standing as you made of honour, wearing a beautiful dress and green chucks. Benny took your vows and when Sam leaned down to kiss his wife, you were sure you could explode like a star. The first dance with your brother in law. The loves and adoration in his eyes, when he handed you back to âSammyâ. It wasnât much, just a few friends, some fairy lights, a giant cake and a cooler full of drinks.
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
They're red, white and blue
And when the band plays "Hail to the Chief"
They point the cannon at you, Lord
Dean chose the cassette, when he took his niece, your daughter for the first ride in Baby. Making sure that she was strapped in her baby seat took him half an hour, but finally she w g as riding shotgun with âuncle Deanâ to buy diapers at the store. Waving after them, you knew your baby girl could never be more safe. You knew, Dean would set himself on fire just to keep warm.
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no senator's son, son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
When Dean and Cas found an abandoned child during a case and brought him home, your family that didnât end in blood was perfect. He was adorable and always followed one of you e very waking hour, dancing g to the tunes of your favourite son g at the map table, having you all in stitches with his innocent yet dedicated performance.
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don't they help themselves, yeah
But when the taxman comes to the door
The house look a like a rummage sale
Dean and you danced in the suddenly empty bunker, crying in each others shoulder, when Cas and Sam drove you kids to their firs day at the college. You smiled through the curtain of tears, knowing the both of you did well as parents and would always be there to support and love each other.
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
Now, you were standing here, looking down at the ashes of your brother in a makeshift grave in the woods behind the bunker. The same place, where you and Sam had the most wonderful day of your life. For the last time, you pressed the play button on the boom box to blast the song in full volume, emptying a bottle of whiskey over the remains of Dean Winchester. Brother, husband, father, uncle and friend. This time, he wouldn't come back to you. This time, you had to take the long and slow road before you would see him again in the cabin at the lake â in heaven.
My mom came in when I was making the massage gifs and she thought I was making porn gifs. She freaked on the second one especially with the room shaking and all so for a sec, she was about to slap me. (ââżââż)
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
2087
kaledo-art
dailybridgerton
areudirty
dededos
janainaart
stormborns
