#balthazars-muse

[masterlistsandsuch]

Balthazars-muse Masterlist

Masterlist - The Masterlist of the great Kaya!

My favorites:

Netflix & Chill (Castiel x reader, fluff)

8 ways to say I love you Masterpost (Sam x reader, fluff)

and

Not Again (Dean x reader)

[cheerfulsammy-blog]

Definitely Sam. (Rate for balthazars-muse please!)

Yes, Sam is the best.

URL

Don’t get it // Nice // Cool // Awesome // Perfect // How???

ICON

Don’t get it // Nice // Pretty // Awesome // Perfect // So beautiful!

THEME

Okay // Nice // Beautiful // Incredible // Perfect // Teach me your secrets!

POSTS

Not my fandom // Nice // Cool // Great // Perfect // Loving Everything!!!

TAGS

None // Functional // On point // Hilarious // MASTER

Following

Not yet // Now // Always // OFC

COMPLIMENT

How was I not following you? Your posts are wonderful.

Want one?

[supernaturallywritingfiction]

Sam Winchester, Esquire

AN: Hey guys! So this is my entry for @balthazars-muse‘s 30 First Dates with Sam Winchester month. It’s super late and I’m very sorry for that but she was gracious enough to let me submit it anyway. I hope you enjoy your date with Stanford!Sam at the Renaissance festival!

Tagging: @devsfan55 @thinkwritexpress @icecream-and-gadreel @itsallintheeyeofthebeholder @blushingsamgirl @fingersinsamshair @oriona75 @ohfora67impala (if I forgot any fellow Sam!girls, I apologize)

Word Count: 1408 Warnings: none, unless you have a thing against ren faires

Sam watches you out of the corner of his eye, mesmerized by the way your hand moves to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as you study. When he’d first signed up for the basic history class, he’d thought it would be another boring core curriculum requirement. But then the professor had split the class up for group projects, and Sam had been paired with you. When the two of you met up for the first project, he was drawn to you before a half hour had passed.

He fidgets nervously, glancing to the clock again as it counts down the time he has with you. Just ask her, he berates himself. It’s not that hard. His thoughts are interrupted when you touch his arm softly. “Hmm?” he mumbles, looking at you.

“Got a hot date?” you ask with a smirk.

“What? No!”

He says it too quickly and your face falls a little before saying, “Well that’s interesting, ‘cause you keep checking the clock as if it was counting down your death.”

Sam chuckles softly to diffuse the tension, smiling at you. “No, I just… had something I want to ask you. After we’re done studying, of course.”

Your heartbeat flutters a little and you quickly look back down at the books strewn across the table, reaching out to close a few of them. “Well I think we’re done for today, we’ve got it all planned out and next meet-up we can start--”

He stops your rambling with a gentle hand on top of yours. “Y/N, it’s okay,” he says, a laugh clearly present in his voice. “I just…” He takes a deep breath. Calm, Sam. It’s just a date… with a really cute girl. “So I know you’re really into the Renaissance period and there’s this Renaissance festival this weekend and I was wondering--”

This time it’s you who stops him rambling, a wide smile on your face. “You’re asking me on a date to the Ren faire?”

“If you want it to be a date. I mean, we could just go as friends and call it research or whatever but if you want--”

You stop him with a soft kiss on his lips, pulling away with a small smile. “It’s a date, Sam.” You finish collecting the books together and take an armful to return, knowing he’ll take the rest. “I know it opens at nine in the morning, so pick me up at 8:30?”

He smiles widely, nodding. “Sounds great. I’ll see you then.” You grin back at him, the smile only growing as you walk away, already imagining your first date with Sam Winchester.

~~~

You spend nearly two hours the morning of the festival getting ready for it. Most of that time is spent vacillating between wearing normal, modern clothes and pulling out your handmade Renaissance period clothing. In the end, you go with the period clothing, thinking you should go all out for something like this. If Sam doesn’t take to the clothing, then his loss. You slip on a long, dark brown skirt that cinches at the waist, and pull a long-sleeved white tunic shirt over your head, tucking it into your skirt. To complete the outfit, you slipped on some boots and a dark red embroidered bodice, and braided your hair back.

Turns out you needn’t have worried. When you open the door to greet Sam, he’s standing there in full Renaissance gear as well. Simple brown pants tucked into brown boots, with a burgundy shirt and dark, wide-shouldered leather vest; even his hair is tied back from his face. You smile widely at him, putting a hand on your hip and raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been holding out on me, Sam Winchester. Where’d you get this get-up?”

He chuckles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh, went to the store yesterday after you said yes and bought it.”

Your eyes go wide before you break down in laughter. “Oh Sam. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“But I knew you would most likely have an outfit ready.” You raised an eyebrow and he smiles. “You seem like the kind of person who would.”

You chuckle and shake your head, grabbing your leather satchel as you head out of the house. “So how are we getting to the festival? Have you brought horses?” you joke as you shut and lock the door behind you.

“Uh, well, I do have a silver steed and it’s got the power of sixty horses.” You laugh again as he leads you down your driveway to the small silver car sitting at your curb. He opens the door for you and you smile at him as you get in, tucking your skirt in to keep it from getting caught in the door.

~~~

Sam hefts the double-handed sword, testing its weight as you watch him, smiling. “This is nice,” he says, swinging it carefully.

“Thank you,” the lady in the booth says. “I crafted it myself.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” He admires it for a bit longer before handing it back to her, smiling. “Thank you for letting me try it.” She nods and he smiles down at you. “What next?”

“I was thinking food,” you say as you lace your fingers with his. “My stomach is starting to rumble.”

His face flushes slightly at the touch of your hand. “The tavern it is, then.” As he leads the way, you watch his arm muscles move under the sleeve of his shirt. A light blush crosses your face and you look down quickly.

The dark of the tavern encompasses you, the air slightly musty and sweaty, and thick with the smell of alcohol. Sam leads you to an empty table, his tall form enabling him to see over the heads of the swarming crowd to find two empty seats together. “Save these seats,” he says, having to shout over the din of the tavern. “What do you want?”

“Ribs and a beer, please!” He nods and weaves off through the crowd to the counter, graceful despite his large frame. You get caught up in the live music being played at the far end of the bar, and the next thing you know he’s sitting down next to you, setting down a full plate of food and a mug of beer in front of you. “Thanks!” you say, smiling widely at him.

He nods and sets down his own plate and mug, and your eyes go wide at the huge leg of turkey in front of him. “I couldn’t resist,” he says, leaning close to your ear so you can hear him over the noise. “Barbeque turkey? Sounds delicious.” You chuckle and begin eating, trying your best not to make a mess with the ribs.

Sam watches you out of the corner of his eye, smiling softly as you make little noises of enjoyment. He looks back down at the turkey leg, laughing softly at himself for taking the challenge of eating the whole enormous thing. Sinking his teeth into it and pulling away to tear off a bite, he turns to you when he hears you giggle. “What?” he asks after swallowing the piece of turkey.

“You’ve got a little something…” you say, motioning to his face.

“Where?”

“Just… there.”

He chuckles. “You just motioned to my whole face.” A thought flits through his head, and he leans forward slightly, poking out his lips. “Clean it up for me?”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you feel bold enough after the beer to lean forward and lick a bit of the barbeque sauce from his cheek, tongue trailing to the corner of his mouth. “Is that it?” he asks softly, watching you closely.

“No, still got a little right… here…” You lean forward again and take him into a kiss, licking along his lips. He smiles into the kiss and deepens it, before pulling away to rest his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” he says softly. “That was a lot of barbeque sauce I got on my face.”

You giggle softly and nod. “Yep, but I think I got it all.”

“I think there’s still some there. One more time just to check?” You smile and he pulls you back into a kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist. Unnoticed by the two of you, the whole tavern cheers and claps at the show of love found at a Ren faire.

[fulldisclosureash]

Full Disclosure 1x04 - balthazars-muse

[teamfreewill-imagine]

Help a buddy out?

Hey, my favourite people on the internet. One of my absolute favs (and brain box behind Dean's Flavor of the Month, @balthazars-muse ) is 40 followers away from 2k! It'd mean a lot to both of us if you go and check out her stuff, and follow her if you like what you see (which, trust me, you will)! Message me if you do, and I'll check out your blog if I haven't already! (I need to start following more people if you get my drift...) But yeah, let's help @balthazars-muse set this year off right! Thanks guys 😘 - Jamie xo

[ohfora67impala]

Moments

Pic from: (x)

Prompt: “Okay, but if I win, you have to shave your beard. Deal?” Warnings: None. Pure fluff. Author’s note: Here is my submission for @balthazars-muse‘s No Shave November stories! (P.S. - I tried to find a pic or gif of Jensen with a thick beard, but I could not. So here’s one of my favorite pics of him. And in all honestly, he looks handsome af with any beard. Hehe.)

"Y/n." You looked up from your breakfast of bacon and eggs. "Yeah?" The eldest Winchester sank into the chair across from you and propped his elbows on the table. "You forgot about training, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question. You squinted blearily at him. It was six in the morning. Here you were still in pajamas, trying to get through your breakfast without falling asleep and he was sitting there clad in a tank top and sweats looking wide eyed and bushy tailed. Not that you minded how he was dressed. The tank top was a change from his usual no less than two layers of clothing and the thin white material did wonders to perfectly outline his physique.

"Did you turn in Sam or something?" you grumble before shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs drowned in ketchup into your mouth. Dean arched one eyebrow at you. "Hey, you're the one who said you wanted training and to 'wake me up as early as you want as long as I have my breakfast'," he mimicked, making you bite back a smile at his pitched tone that sounded nothing like you. "And..." he pointed to the piece of bacon halfway to your mouth. "Breakfast. Plus, I woke you up half an hour ago, what took you so long?" You shrugged and leaned back in your chair, munching contentedly on the bacon. "Oh you know, it takes me a bit to get going in the morning," you worked out around the mouthful of food. "Unless I have motivation..." you trailed off suggestively and gave him a pointed look. Dean's green eyes twinkled mischievously in the morning light. "Motivation, huh?" He was on his feet and leaning over the table with his hands splayed on either side of your plate before you could take another breath. His own breath ghosted over your face, smelling like cinnamon. "So... how about a wager?" he asked. "Go on," you murmured. The more you stared into his liquid emerald eyes, the more you wanted to grab him and explore another type of training. "Hand to hand. If I pin you..." he paused, taking his lower lip between his teeth. "You take my kp duty for a week." Now it was your turn to arch a brow. "That's it? That's all you want?" Dean's gaze flickered down to rest on your hands before looking back up at you with a smile on his face. A rare smile that was both shy and tender. "I have everything else I could want," he whispers and closed the gap between you to brush his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. You sat back and cleared your throat, unable to hide the flush racing along your cheeks to stain them a light pink. "Okay, but if I win, you have to shave your beard," you said, playfully itching under your nose. Dean sank back into his chair and ran his fingers along the month and a half's worth of growth, not missing how you took the opportunity to look away and blink a few times, clearing the sudden sheen from your eyes. "I thought you liked my beard?" he asked as you looked back at him. "I like a five o'clock shadow, not a caveman beard," you teased. Dean reeled back in his seat, pretending to be deeply offended, complete with a slack jawed unbelieving stare. You laughed and kicked under the table at his shin, lightly hitting him with your bare foot. "Deal?" you asked. "Deal," he affirmed and leaned forward to swipe a slice of bacon off your place. "Hey!" you protested half heartedly, unable to help the smile spreading across your face at his antics. "Downstairs, ten minutes," Dean said, pointing the bacon at you before stuffing half of it into his mouth. You waved your hands to shoo him away, laughing as he purposely chewed with his mouth open. "All right, all right, Mr. Bossy, let me finish my breakfast in peace." Dean shot you a wink and disappeared around the corner. You closed your eyes and listened to his footsteps fading down the hall, letting the sun streaming through the window warm your face. With thoughts of Dean flooding your mind, a contented smile spread across your lips. It was moments like these that filled your heart with love for the man who you'd met on chance. Opening your eyes, you set to work on finishing your meal, the silly smile never leaving your face. How'd I ever get so lucky?

[fanaticfangirl001]

French fries

A/N: #balthazarsmuse This is part of the monthly fic thing and its my first fic. It’s angst/fluff 

Dean x reader 

You roll your eyes as Dean shoves his cheesy mess of a burger into his mouth. The scruff on his chin and around his lips is covered in cheese and grease. “What? It catches the food I drop like your boobs do for you. Don't judge me.” Dean says smirking. His eyes immediately go to your chest where there sits a short uneated fry. “I don't think it's appropriate to discuss Y/N’s breasts.” Cas says reading your mind. You throw the fry at Dean and storm off to the restroom. “What's her problem?” Dean asks. Sam rolls his eyes and fills his mouth with another forkful of Caesar salad. “I think it's you.” Cas answers saying what Sam was thinking. “I'm going to see if she's okay.”Dean says getting up to wait for you outside the women's restroom. You walk out of the restroom running into Dean. “You okay?” He asks. “Yeah, let's gank this bitch so I get back to my own bed.”You say walking back to the table. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Back in your room you begin taking off the shirt that you thought would be okay to wear but in the end it was way too low cut. You put on a sweatshirt and sit on the bed. You open the drawer beside your bed and rummage through it for the little bottle of pain relief pills. One of the downsides of having large breasts is back pain. “Hey Y/N.” Dean says standing in the doorway holding two plates of cherry pie. “Dean,you really should knock.” You say swallowing the little pill. “I know, uh Cas told me something pretty interesting.” He says putting down the pie. “What?” You ask. “That you're self-conscious about your maracas, sweater puppies.” He stops seeing you glare at him. “You don't need to be. You have a great pair.” He continues. You send him an unamused look. “Look I brought  pie because I'm trying to apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” Dean says holding out the plate in front of you. “Sometimes I think all you see is a monster killing pair of tits.” You blurt out. Dean’s face changes from a small smile to a concerned one. “Damnit Y/N! You're making me get all chick flicky so I'm only gonna say this once: you are my world,my everything.” He says as he pulls you close. You didn't know Dean was crying until you saw the small spot on your sweatshirt. “Dean, calm down. It's okay.” You say rubbing his back. “No it's not Y/N. You don't know how much I l-l-love you.” He stuttered out the last part. He had never told you this before. “I love you too, please stop crying. I didn't mean.” He cut you off with his lips. His lips trailed from yours to your temple and then down your chintz your collarbone. “I wished I was that French fry.” He says softly kissing the middle of your chest.