#misha drabble

[strawlessandbraless]

Dean, an inch from Castiel’s face while adjusting the knot of his tie, explaining to Cas with such raw honesty that humans lie when they most want something

[castiwls]

Come home to me - c.n

Paring; castiel x reader

Synopsis: Getting hurt on a hunt was expected, but this was different. This left your life on the line

Warnings; mention of death and injury

Requested;anon

Notes;so sorry this took so long! also not wrote for castiel in a minute so I apologise if its kinda occ :) reqs and inbox are open

Masterlist

Pain was something you were used to. It wasn’t often you found yourself walking away from a hunt unscathed but this…this was something you’d never felt before.

White hot pain pulsed through your side as you tried to remember how to breathe again. You couldn’t even remember what had happened. One minute you were standing and the next you were looking at the barn's roof.

You weren’t even sure if you’d finished the hunt. The only thing you knew was that you were in pain.  A hand on your chest pulled you back to reality. The car jostled slightly causing you to wince as pain shot up your side.

“Is it bad?” Your voice was strained as you looked up at met a pair of blue eyes full of concern. Castiel was quiet his eyes trained on your face. “You're going to be okay.” He nodded before moving his hand over your side. 

His voice was passive but you could tell by his eyes that he was scared and you couldn’t tell if he was reassuring himself or you. Taking a sharp breath you reached a hand up towards him. One of his hands quickly wrapped around yours and squeezed it.

“M’tired Cas.” You mumbled watching as his eyes widened slightly. He shook his head before saying something you didn’t catch. Your ears seemed to fill with water as the voices in the car blended together to make one muffled mass.

The pain continued to pulse through you as quiet mumbles left your lips. Your eyes continued to droop as you watched him stare down at you. 

Truthfully you had no idea if you were dying. The thought left a small pinch of fear rushing through you. What if you were dying? What if you died in this car? What if you died and never got to tell him?

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Castiel watched in near horror as your eyes finally closed and your body went limp on his lap. Placing a hand on your shoulder he shook you gently, careful of your wound. “Hey.” He could feel Dean’s eyes on him from the mirror as he continued to shake you.

The sound of the engine revving faded into the background as he continued calling your name begging for your eyes to open again.

Until now fear had been something he’d never felt. The idea alone was so alien to him that for a moment he had no idea what that cold feeling that seemed to chill his body was. 

For the first time, Castiel was genuinely scared. He knew healing you wasn’t an option until you got back to the motel. The car was too shaky and he wasn’t willing to risk causing you any more pain. 

“You're gonna be okay.” He mumbled pushing your hair off your face. Staring down at you he found himself slowly mapping your features. He’d always known that there was something about you. Something which left him constantly looking for your attention. Your smile alone could brighten his day and the thought of never seeing it again left him feeling sick to his stomach.

Losing you was maybe his worst fear, and now that might actually be a reality.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Castiel didn’t know how long it had been. Both Sam and Dean had begrudgingly retired to their own motel room leaving you both alone a few hours ago. 

Even after being healed you continued to lie lifeless on the old bed while he sat quietly at your side. Letting out a breath he leaned forward on his knees looking at you for a moment. Your clothes were still bloody and torn but your side now showed no memories of the gash that had been there only hours earlier.

Running a hand through his hair he leaned back into the chair, his mind still going a mile a minute. Castiel had never had the words to tell you how he really felt. He’d become so accustomed to being your ‘best friend’ that the idea of being anything more had slowly faded away. 

He knew he was in love. He’d been in love since the first day he’d met you and now he’d waited too long and may never get the chance to tell you.

A small pained groan broke through the silence and his head shot up. Another small noise left your lips as you stretched out your leg, feeling the stiffness on one side of your body slowly lessen.

“Wha..what happened?” You asked turning your head to where he was sitting. “Cas?” His hand shot out grabbing a hold of yours, his eyes wide. “How do you feel?” His voice was laced with concern.

You thought for a moment trying to piece together your foggy memories of what had happened on the hunt. The pieces slowly slotted together and you let out a worried breath immediately reaching for your side.

Feeling the now untouched skin you looked over to the angel. “Stiff but…much better.” You smiled weakly, fatigue still clouding your mind. “Thank you.” 

He nodded a small smile growing on his lips. Relief rushed through him as you slowly moved to sit up against the pillows. “I’m glad.” He was quiet for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Can I…can I tell you something.” Castiel felt his gaze fall onto his hands as you tilted your head watching him. “Of course. You can tell me anything.” You answered trying to reassure him. 

He nodded before falling quiet again. You watched as opened his mouth a few times before stopping himself and shaking his head. “Cas, come on you can tell me.” You laughed gently patting the bed beside you.

Taking the hint he came to sit beside you. He felt the bed dip slightly as you moved closer a smile on your lips. Part of him was so relieved still that you were alive that it took him a moment to realise that you’d placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m in love with you.” He said suddenly. The confession seemed to shock you both as you stiffened slightly and he sucked in a breath.

The air seemed to grow tense for a moment before he turned to face you, his breath catching in his throat as he mentally prepared himself for the possibility of you rejecting him.

Instead, you were smiling brightly, a small dusting of red on your cheeks. “You're not just saying that 'cause I almost died right?” 

He shook his head reaching for your hand which wasn’t on his shoulder. “No. No of course not. I really mean it.”

He looked down to where your hands were intertwined. “Well.” You moved your hand from his shoulder to gently tip his chin up.

“I guess it’s a good thing I feel the same.”

[averagedenjienjoyer0290]

Y’all don’t know how happy I get when we get new spn/the boys content/teasers cause I already KNOW the freaky niggas of tumblr will wake up and pop out with some heat.

[angelickks]

𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋²²²

a mix of fics, drabbles, blurbs, headcanons, playlists and more!

(𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 ; 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓)

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 " iʻm an aquarius, i like sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women "

[HUNTER DOSSIER – UNOFFICIAL]

fuckin' dad - the winchester family

life growing up with the winchesters would include, childhood (1)

life growing up with the winchesters would include, teen years (2)

no map, no plan, just each other - winchester siblings

where the devil left us - the fall of the winchesters

bf!dean winchester x rich!bimbo!gf! reader

pink is the color of payback - bf!dean x rich!bimbo!gf!reader - request

𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 " what kind of house doesn't have salt? low-sodium freaks! "

[HUNTER DOSSIER – UNOFFICIAL]

fuckin' dad - the winchester family

life growing up with the winchesters would include, childhood (1)

life growing up with the winchesters would include, teen years (2)

no map, no plan, just each other - winchester siblings

where the devil left us - the fall of the winchesters

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋 ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 " learned that from the pizza man "

celestial equivalent of a golden retriever: the three times max flirted with castiel and the one time it worked

𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 (𝐎𝐂) ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 “ ‘rest in peace.’ cowards. i’d haunt everyone.”

[HUNTER DOSSIER – UNOFFICIAL]

introducing - female oc! max "mad max" winchester

1990, the tulsa case - the horrific origins of max winchester

the curious case of max winchester, the girl with a null heart

how max got the name "mad max"

mad max's hunting kit

fortis fortuna adiuvat- max winchester (drunk tattoo edition)

fuckin' dad - the winchester family

the ballad of two bastards

the max interceptions: how to ruin a girl's love life in three (overprotective, armed) steps

no map, no plan, just each other - winchester siblings

where the devil left us - the fall of the winchesters

interrogation tactics - winchester siblings

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓(𝐒)

castiel’s playlist (max gifts him one of her ipods to indulge in)

max winchester's playlist

dean winchester’s playlist

sam winchester’s playlist

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐧' 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐊𝐒

[ohyouluckysaint]

𓈒 ◯ 𓏸 ∿ STAR FROM THE BED OF THE SEA ﹙ castiel ﹚

🝣𝜚 ⠀ starring       ⏖   𑂴    ˖ (black) mermaid!reader and castiel

𓇼　 　SUM .ᐟ 𓈒ּ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ° 𓂂 the testimonial humming of that saddened tune inadvertently catches the attention of a wandering angel. she’s on a hunter’s radar even though she’s not to be blamed.

.　 ᵔ GENRE ◟ ͜ ׁ𝄞 mildly emotional, fluff, romance.

⌣⌣ cw ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ no use of y/n, endverse!castiel for visuals strictly, explicit language, fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, mentions of drowning and death, jimmy novak mentioned (in a memory, not named), sam and dean are here too, nudity, merfolk and siren lore won’t be 100% accurate & is partially loosely based on different films I’ve watched, subtle flirting, cliffhanger, formal speech from both characters, third person omniscient, mostly proofread but should be readable if there’s any errors. word count ⋆.ೃ࿔* 3.5k

SAINT SAYS.ᐟ ༉‧₊˚ This is my first time ever writing for Castiel so I pray his personality isn’t skewed here also this has been rotting in my drafts since the beginning of this month.

The water was cold, the sky was a wide and dark stretch like the darkened sea below it, and the spring wind was cool enough to wrack a shiver through anyone even though it was relatively warm still. Mainly teenagers would come around this time of night and wouldn’t necessarily bother with dipping into the water unless it was a dare from a friend. It was perfect because it was when she’d come to collect some things that children and adults had left behind to learn as much as she could. Maybe she’d been indulging in greed then. What if they had come back to collect their rightful belongings? She would’ve given it all back, of course.

Especially if a child began sobbing. She has this softening for them in her heart. But the things she would collect had already been swept off into the water where they couldn’t reach. A huge, alive and well body it is. She looked around for a moment to see if the usual crowd was there. No, but there were a few people scattered, and then she paused as she first saw him.

She watches with big, curious eyes as he looks worn from the day. It was a human. One quite handsome that she wouldn’t bother interacting with. He was with his own little family—a wife and a small daughter. The mother and father are holding a conversation while maintaining eye contact, and the daughter is giggling while running on the sand with her doll which looks similar to her. She believes if she’d gaze skyward, she’d see a glint like when the man stares at his wife. She wants a love like that, she thinks.

It’s meant to be more innocent than it initially sounds. She wouldn’t take another woman’s man. Mermaids are big on not committing adultery. They’re also not meant to interact with humans because of the danger they posed to them long ago and still do. She wavered for a moment then swam away without slowing or stopping any further when the man noticed her with those blue eyes. She held on tightly to what she’d managed to grab. A handheld mirror, a wristwatch, a tiny jewelry chest, and a pair of glasses. She collected out of curiosity only whether it seemed that way or not. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears like a drumbeat in a rainforest as her blood pumped wildly synchronously with her heart in the cavern of her ribcage.

Mermaids had occasional wonderments about humans, even though they were not meant to be near them, due to humans confusing merfolk for sirens and promptly attacking them. Killing them, to be blunt. Often hunters nowadays rather than fishermen. Harpoon guns filled with silver spear projectiles tore through their flesh, leaving them to “drown in their blood” (actually for their bodies to seize helplessly before returning to seafoam.)

She never learned his name or spoke to him as he never showed up at that beach again. Maybe it was solely for vacation; maybe one or all of them passed. She wanted to talk to him. She’d learned a few languages and dialects from listening to strangers, so she knew she would’ve done well communicating with the man. She’d been around for a long time after all. Centuries to be exact.

As the waves ebbed and flowed, Castiel sat there in the sand on duty, unable to ever turn down an offer from Dean as long as it meant helping a friend (especially with his bias toward him). His fingers flexed onto his flip phone and he sighed heavily until he heard that singing from the cove that was several feet from him, but within walking distance. If it were a siren like Dean assumed, it’d have no effect on him—hence why he was sent out. He sauntered nearer even as the waves tried to be more insistent that he stay.

As he got closer he swore could hear the strumming of a harp as well and thought he must’ve been mistaken until he hesitantly wandered inside the inlet, his shoes crunching against the wet stone. His surroundings were seaweed, coral, cool clear water he could get submerged in with a misstep, salty air like it were on the open beach, seashells, a conch shell, and some likely stolen miniature trinkets.

She hummed as her iridescent scaled tail lightly thwacked against the water below her, her webbed fingers strummed at the harp that sat on the rock she was perched upon. Her eyes were shut, and her sun bleached light brown sister locs decorated with cowries cascaded down her shoulders like the water that trickled over her profile and on down to her tail. She finally fluttered her eyes open to show her eyes that resembled pearls—no iris in sight, just smooth creamy white. She sensed an energy, similar to when merfolk had been at war and she’d been exiled long ago. That took a metaphysical toll on her. Her singing came to a halt and she set the mirror down on its back, against the rock gently before proceeding to lower into the water, her head and hands only poking up like a groundhog to see who or what was exactly approaching.

Her feelings of qualms only furthered when Castiel came into her sight. That same face and body, but a blinding aura and a shadow of wings now. What wrong tornado whirled and could’ve tossed an angel right to her? She didn’t speak and just stared at him, quickly realizing he wasn’t the same man she’d seen all those years ago.

When his pocketed cellphone rings due to Dean wondering why he hasn’t checked in yet, it gets Castiel to stop walking for a moment and causes her to sink into the water to conceal herself completely and swim down while he’s answering the phone.

“Dean, I-” Castiel began before Dean interrupted, his signature rough timbre leaking through the tinny speaker, “You okay?”

“Yes, but I think my phone ringing scared the siren off. It stopped singing and playing its harp.” Dean sighed heavily on the other end as he readied to apologize and Castiel began looking around before he slipped right into the water unexpectedly. Once his phone clatters unceremoniously onto the stone and he doesn’t respond when Dean calls out to him. It sets festering panic into him. “Cas?…Cas?!”

Castiel doesn’t fret in the slightest as he doesn’t have the possibility of drowning but just when he’s about to swim upward he sees something go by too quick to catch only to be promptly lifted up by strong arms, he hurriedly looks at who’s carrying him and his eyes widened at the sight of her. She looks nothing like the illustrations of their true form in their handy journal, aside from the whole half human, half fish deal. Her optics are iris less rather than slit, she has actual hair, and she’s not dragging him under. He can’t rip his gaze away from her the entire way up. Once they’re both back to steady grounding in the cove, she ushers him onto the rocks again and stare right at him to see if he’ll react at all or leave.

When he crashed to his knees against the rocks (knowing that’ll leave matching nasty bruises soon), she rose to where her torso was visible, her breasts donning patterned scales as well against her deep brown skin. She didn’t move in case he were to play any tricks on her. His blue eyes flickered to meet hers in the shitty lack of lighting in the cove. “Why do you sing?” His gravelly timbre cracked through the silence and echoes subtly off the wet walls before she can speak, which made her softly blink. “I can see what you are,” she responded bluntly, though her voice was gentle. His eyes lingered on her ineffable beauty before he responded, “An angel, yes,” he muttered. She felt as if the world were tilting before her.

“Do you come bearing gifts or to smite me?” She asked. Pseudo spiritual and true spiritual civilians had left gifts at the entrance of the cove, likely assuming she were a siren demanding something.

“I’m here to figure out why you’re drowning men.” He bluntly replies without missing a beat. Her countenance contorted in displeasure at the accusation. Her? Drowning men? She wishes, but merfolk don’t do that. It’s a non verbalized code and mainly in their nature not to do that. Unless it’s out of pure defense due to a long history of being wrongfully attacked with the means to kill them even when trying to help. Sam and Dean linked the disappearances to what the locals say about this mermaid, figuring she was the cause and to (possibly study her since they’d never seen one, and then) go for the kill. He could hear Dean telling him, “Don’t be an idiot,” for even being this close to her and see his face as a memory flickers across his forefront from the last time he told him that.

He doesn’t want to begin championing his idea to his friend, so he did this haphazardly even when knowing he’d have to report to either brother like a dog how he’d “captured” her. “I sing because I am still grieving. Not to encourage men to drown,” She finally admits. He could see her sharpened canines as her plump lips parted. They would’ve considered shooting her point blank anyway, he imagines. Past him would’ve thought her an abomination and would’ve told a hunter or angel to solely intellectualize when approaching.

If anything she’d been saving drowning children and adults at the beach when she felt it was safe enough to and even made her appearance more inviting so they wouldn’t be afraid or nonplussed. Much like angels with their “be not afraid” deal. Her and Castiel couldn’t be more far from orthodoxy. It’s why he’s understanding.

“It must be a siren and I do not do their bidding.” She said before swimming forward figuring he wouldn’t attack since she had explained herself. Sirens cries cause a sense of dread and cause men to leap to their demise or bring their ships to wreckage. Castiel watched her carefully, but didn’t view her as threatening in the slightest. He swallowed thickly at just how much more eerily beautiful she looked once in his orbit. “I was rushed out where mermaids rest much deeper. It was awful…” she paused before swimming even closer and rested her cheek upon her arms as she stared up at him. “You believe me, don’t you?”

To which Castiel just narrows his eyes and she feels her nerves thrum for a moment before he relents and stands to his feet, steady this time. The words latching onto the tip of tongue, all tangled and rendering him from speaking for a moment, “Yes, I…do not sense you’re lying.” She softly smiles and Castiel couldn’t help but mirror her expression.

She lived deep within the ocean where there’s little to no sunshine that still peeks through like a sheer curtain, she wasn’t friends with other sea animals as other mermaids weren’t but they coexisted until there was war. War can happen in heaven, upon grass, and even below. Migrating was non negotiable for her when that happened and they swam to shallower oceans to rebuild only for that fail as well and so now she sits here in her coral and seaweed littered abode with an angel who knees buckled at the sight of her (or tiredness, but she doesn’t believe angels require sleep—they don’t.)

“And you’re wet,” her way of saying that was the obvious as much as her statement is. Her gaze flickered over his oatmeal colored trench coat that had been soaked to being much browner now. He made this indistinguishable expression of he found her words humorous or the opposite before he picked up his minute phone and realized it’d been corrupted with water damage. He couldn’t exactly fix it (and it was nearly out of minutes anyway) so he tucked it away into his pocket. “Are you leaving?” She piped up as he began to turn on the heel of his soaked oxfords and he stopped mid turn and looked down at her still in that pool of water with her lower half submerged.

“You’re a kind angel, uh…”

“Castiel.”

“Castiel.” She parroted his name, rolling it on her tongue all syrupy, and she found herself showing off a sugary sweet smile and softly nodding. She told him her name in exchange and hesitantly reached a webbed hand toward him to see if he’d take it, and when he stood to his feet and accepted it she giggled and curtly nodded toward her hand to gesture for him to lift her up. Once she had been pulled up, she rested against the rocks as her scales first went and then her tail seamlessly took a few seconds to transform into legs, to which she covered her breasts with arms and crossed her thighs tightly.

He slipped off his trench coat, which had been decorated with sea water, and handed it to her before closing his eyes and turning his back toward her. He didn’t even have time to immediately realize her eyes had gone to normal with an iris and pupil, along with her hands, and her canines weren’t as sharp. Once she secured the trench coat around her, she lightly bit the swell of her lower lip and stood up on her new found feet that wobbled like a fawn’s at first to which she yelp once her ass hit against the rock upon falling so sudden. Castiel turned to help her up almost instantaneously and she smiled softly at him as her eyes narrowed playfully.

“You’re not even going to look at me?” She says as her soft gaze flickered over his face now that he was close, and Castiel hesitantly made eye contact with her. “We should get you properly dressed. I will take you back to my friends.” He says gruffly, turning to walk out of the cove, but she doesn’t budge and clears her throat. “Were you afraid for a moment that I might’ve tugged you down underneath with me?” She says finally, the silence was impenetrably thick for a moment until his boots scraped and he looked about, and then his breath hitches softly when she gently guided his face to turn toward hers with her very human silk to the touch hand.

It’s strange to him how the softest touch somehow feels like a command. He finds himself following by looking into her eyes, his gaze steady, “You’re a mermaid. If you were famished, you would’ve hunted for fish, not man. Nor angel. If you were hunting for sport, you would’ve failed to kill me opportunistically.” He bluntly tells her, knowing he’d be much quicker to rid of her if she were a threat.

Her gaze flickers between his eyes for a moment, “A nasty sense of humor,” she murmurs with a raise of her brows before allowing him to carry her out of the cove as she attempts to gain proper footing. Mermaids don’t have this collective delusion or gullibility like loosely claimed in texts about them. They’re rather curious, but they will act fast if needed. Castiel shouldn’t be mistaken is her point.

“A fuckin’ mermaid, Cas? That’s just not– I’m lookin’ at a half naked and confused woman.” Dean told him as he glanced over at her as she picked up his BlackBerry with a curious expression and hesitantly brought it to her mouth to bite only to frown when it didn’t taste good and set it back down. Dean dead panned at that before looking to Castiel with a straight face. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Dean.” He responded while serving him that familiar almost awed puppy dog look in his eyes and his brows furrowed.

“If she’s a mermaid, we don’t know any of this part of lore on her. Nothing in dad’s journal. I mean, why would she have legs instead of having a big fat fish tail?” Dean retorted which earned a look from her that could eat him alive paired with a subtle frown tugging at the corners of her already pouty lips. Speaking as if she were a child that couldn’t sit at the adults table a peeve of hers quickly. He was making it a habit of skillfully tap dancing on her last nerve.

Sam huffed out a breath of laughter as he took notice which startled her a little, she’d almost forgotten he was there tapping away on that laptop of his to find an thoroughly accurate source. She learned quickly he practically buried himself within this often. By now she’d been dressed in Castiel’s button up shirt and had a fresh towel and his trench coat covering her lower half still until they could actually get her something or send her back off into the waves.

“She’s not killing anyone, Dean. She explained everything to me and…I’m sure.” Castiel supplied and glanced over at her to see she was already looking at him and her eyes widened a fraction before her expression softened as she smiled with teeth and waved. Castiel hesitantly waved back to which Dean looked between the both of them out of disbelief. “What? She’s your friend now?” He felt like Castiel was trying to play hero, he didn’t want to argue.

They both answer with no, but Castiel’s is immediate and hers is more of an echo with a different tone. “Seems like one of you ain’t too sure about it,” Dean sarcastically bit under his breath before rolling his eyes and then sliding a hand down his face with a sigh.

“She’s innocent, let’s let her back off into the ocean,” Castiel proposed and she nodded in agreement even though no one was currently looking her way. “Look at this,” Sam says and turns to the laptop screen toward Castiel and Dean’s general area, it shows a page of a mermaid transformation from fishtail to legs alongside some text and another image of a depiction of a mermaid playing a harp with her eyes shut, clearly focused as sea spray hits her tail.

Dean looks at her at that and then to Castiel, “You can drop Ariel here off then.” And she made a face at that, not understanding the reference and luckily Castiel wasn’t the one in the room that was a victim of that this time. “We’ll stay here and keep digging for the actual culprit. I’ll pray to you to relay something if we need anything since your phone’s busted.” Dean said to Castiel and he nodded.

“Can I use my legs for a little longer?” She asked as she walked side by side with Castiel barefoot, now donning some bloomers (courtesy of Sam and Dean) along with his shirt still secure on her torso.

“I don’t mind. But, Sam and Dean–”

“Sam and Dean. Are they the boss of you, Castiel?” It was a genuine question even though to some it might’ve sounded like assholery. Her tone solidifies she’s quite serious about asking. “Don’t you wish to have more free will? You’re an angel. It sounds like you’re submitting to humanity to me even though you’re above them in the hierarchy.”

“Not submission. Love.” He corrects, stopping his journey to turn and look at her as if trying to sear the idea into her psyche with just his gaze. She nods almost immediately understanding. “I know what love is. I felt something similar long ago when I saw someone just like you. It was beyond curiosity, but not strong enough to equate to love itself.” She tried her best to explain and Castiel’s eyes flickered with recognition. “My vessel. Did you know him?” He asks.

“Goodness, no. I noticed him. He saw me too. But, he didn’t look at me with love because he was spoken for. He was just…” she paused as she thought about exactly how he’d stared at her before she swam off to the deep. “Curious.” She finally caught the word.

“He was a good man. I knew him.” Castiel mused before his gaze flickered over her face. “I think you would have liked him had you spoken to him.” She couldn’t help but smile at that sentiment.

“If he was anything like you. I would.” There’s a sparkle of mirth in her eyes when she says it like it has further meaning than anything surface level and Castiel—unsurprisingly—doesn’t catch it. That she’s flirting but being light about it for room to safely pull back if he gets uncomfortable or seems disinterested. Until he does understand when she’s stepping closer with her hands behind her back, a soft smirk, and her eyes lingering on his lips before meeting his gaze once more. Then his eyes are flickering with recognition and he steps closer too before his mind can turn those cogs and stop him.

Now that surprises her more than anything.

“I’m curious too,” he admitted. He makes it obvious he means it in the same way she does. Her gaze flickers between his before she guides him all the way back to her cove, their fingers intertwined. Any man or angel would have thought this a trap even if it isn’t.

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

[iced-coffee-jesus]

Drabble Prompt; Camping/ "I want to be loved like that."

Thank you @buddiedrabbles for the prompt! This little idea immediately came to mind, happy Friday!

"I want that."

"Want what?" Eddie looked up from where he'd been stoking the campfire, to see Buck staring off in the distance.

He followed his gaze to see Athena and Bobby dancing and giggling as the sun set behind them. The 118 had taken a rare 72-hours off and decided to go on a family camping trip, spouses and children included. It made something in Eddie settle to have both Christopher and Buck sharing a tent with him, the past eight months feeling like some sort of nightmare that was finally over.

Athena dipped Bobby, causing both of them to giggle as they nearly toppled over.

Buck sighed a little dreamily, leaning back in his chair. "I want to be loved like that."

Eddie bit his lip as he took in his best friend, hair curling from sweat, and a little dirt smeared on his chin.

Eddie liked to think that he did love Buck like that, even if he wasn't quite ready to show him yet.

Nevertheless, Eddie steeled himself and offered a hand out to Buck. "Care to join them?"

Buck stared at him a moment before laughing bashfully. "There's no music, Eddie!"

Eddie shrugged, nerves alight as he kept his hand out. "That's not stopping Bobby or Athena."

And for a brief, awful moment, Eddie thought he was wrong to offer, to push, but then Buck's face softened, and he took Eddie's hand. Standing up, he was close enough to smell Eddie's nice cologne that he'd packed, even after being mercilessly teased by his thirteen year old for bringing cologne camping. But Buck just inhaled deeply and smiled, his hand staying tucked in Eddie's grip as he put the other on his shoulder, letting Eddie lead as they swayed back in forth, both feeling a tingly sense of nerves and joy.

*

Chimney watched from his seat with Maddie, s'more still halfway to his mouth as he watched the two giggle as Eddie tried to spin Buck.

"If they aren't engaged by the time this camping trip is over I'll propose to Buck for Eddie."

Maddie just grinned, confident that that wouldn't be necessary. Buck had admitted to her last week that he was in love with Eddie, and was looking for the right time to tell him. It wouldn't be long now, judging from the way Eddie's lips were grazing Buck's temple as they swayed to music only they could hear.

[imaginesupernaturalig]

You smile as you make the last pull of the needle and raise your arm up. Not always your best work, but you aren't a professional tailor either. This poor coat has seen a number of battles and survived many beatings. Yet at times, he misses fixing the little things, like a missing button or, in this case, reinforcing and inseam. Putting your needle away you stand up and hold out the tan coat.

"I'm a genius," you tout to yourself. Bringing it closer to inspect it you check for any more fixes. So close to your face you give in and bring it to your nose. Taking a deep breath in you close your eyes at his scent. Nearly able to tell where he's been by the woodsy scent thats left because he has a lighter natural fragrance.

You open your eyes and blush because in an instand he's standing in front of you.

"Hello."

THE END

[adriellej]

Masterlist

Supernatural:

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles

Sam Winchester/Jared Padalecki

Castiel (Novak)/Misha Collins

Extra characters of SPN

SPN no parings

Personalized fics

Flash:

Harrison "Harry" Wells/E!2

[strawlessandbraless]

Destiel was so powerful by season 9 they honestly didn’t have any other choice than to force Dean to send Castiel away from both him and the bunker.

I mean, a human Cas in the bunker with Dean as his guide would have been so intimate. He’d have learned quickly from Dean how to feed his hungers, whether it was with food, a fight, or a fuck.

Cas safe and human and finally staying put. All of a sudden always within arms reach & dressed in Dean’s clothes. There’s no way they wouldn’t have gotten to know each other in the biblical sense.

[i-like-anything-water]

Prompt: Claire checking on Rae after her fight with Manaria.

The hallways of the dormitory were quiet as she walked towards the commoner's quarters. Claire clicks her tongue as she stops at a familiar door. Hesitantly, she raises her hand to knock.

Silence. She becomes slightly frustrated and prepares to knock again- louder this time.

As she raised her hand, the door suddenly opens with a poker faced Misha. "Miss Claire, what are you doing still up at this hour?"

Claire straightens her back, an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. "I came to check on the commoner. It would be irresponsible of me to not know the state of one of my personal servants."

Misha looks at her with an unreadable expression, "Rae is not here, Miss Claire."

"What?! Where is she? Does she not know her injuries are grave and need proper rest?"

"Miss Claire, Rae is perf-"

"That idiot! I should have had her stay with me instead. What foolishness has crossed her mind to even think about asking a duel from a quadro user? Stupid, stupid-"

"Foolishness like love. maybe?"

"Pardon?" If her voice had raised a pitch higher, Misha chose not to comment. Instead she gave the blonde a small smile but her eyes held an ounce of sympathy, "Perhaps you should go to bed, Miss Claire."

"Absolutely not! I demand to know the whereabouts of the commoner."

"She didn't tell me where," Misha replied, "only that should you come find her, you should not."

"And who is she to order me around?"

Misha chuckled, "Apparently not as much of a commoner with how insistent you are of her whereabouts."

"N-Nonesense, I am merely being a responsible-"

"Check the kitchen, Miss Claire. Relaire is not here as well. Perhaps they are cooking together."

"I see," Claire murmured and was about to turn around, "Thank you, Misha."

The white haired girl merely smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. She watches as the blonde noble turns a corner before shutting the door. Letting out a sigh, she watches her best friend breathe unevenly in her sleep. Bruises adorned her arms that even her water healing could not eradicate. It would take time.

Luckily, the sleeping spell made sure Rae couldn't hear Miss Claire's voice.

PS. Okay this is pretty far off from the prompt but i just let my hands do all the work. Thanks for the ask!

[superbattrash]

Trick or treat!! 🦇

A treat for the treat of my life <3 <3 <3 (that sounded way better in my head)

--

"And why, pray tell, am I wearing this, again?" Bruce asks, pulling at the tight collar.

"Because you can't always be a dinosaur," Dick tells him as a matter of factly. He's running around the room, helping everybody get ready, but then again, it's easy for Dick to move around freely when all he's wearing is a small cheerleader outfit. Bruce doesn't want to know why he's wearing the skirt and Kory is the one in the pants. He doesn't need to know; he doesn't even want to think of asking.

"I'm not-"

"Sorry, you can't always be a T-Rex or triceratops or whatever," Dick waves him off.

"That's not-" Bruce tries to argue but then Dick places a pair of bunny ears on top of his head. "Why this outfit?" He tries again.

"Because it suits you," Tim comments from where he's squeezing into a maid's uniform. Another skirt. Bruce has a bad feeling about this.

"Drake is right," Damian chimes in and Bruce nearly swallows his own tongue. Damian agreeing with Tim? Perhaps he should cancel the party and go lie down. Maybe drag his youngest to the cave to run some tests first.

"Is it not customary for the rabbits to accompany a billionaire?" Damian asks when Bruce doesn't reply. "This being a switch of genders and all?"

"It is," Jason says with a terrifying grin on his face. Bruce purposefully doesn't look at him. He doesn't need to see which type of skirt Jason is wearing; he's pretty sure he'll faint any minute now. "Which is why dear old dad needs to be the perfect bunny for his handsome billionaire."

"Do I even want to know who my handsome billionaire is?" Bruce asks hesitantly.

"Selena, duh," Tim says just as Damian goes: "Mother, of course."

"Oh," Dick then says. "I invited Clark."

"This is a switch party!" Jason argues. "Clark can't be the handsome billionaire!"

"He can too!" Dick shoots back. "He's a handsome billionaire widow. See? That's him in the black dress."

Bruce nearly breaks his own neck turning around to see exactly what type of black dress Clark is wearing. And then he feels all color drain out of his face - and not for the reason he was expecting. Clark is indeed wearing a skintight black dress (and good God, how the hell did the boys convince him to wear those heels?!) but that's not what has Bruce start sweating.

Right next to Clark stands a tall figure, glaring daggers and looking absolutely gorgeous in a bright red miniskirt.

"Why is Khoa here?" Bruce chokes.

[averagedenjienjoyer0290]

I appreciate the word count most of the time but I’m not gonna lie, my attention span is cooked.

sometimes yall either gotta lie or not put it down at all. LIKE I BET ALL 250K WORDS IN THIS DRABBLE IS GREAT BUT LIKE…250K?? That’s so discouraging gang just lie to me 🥀🥀

[angelickks]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. oc!max "mad max" winchester

MAX "MAD MAX" WINCHESTER is the wild card in the winchester deck: unpredictable, untraceable, and impossibly hard to kill. the only daughter in a family of soldiers and ghosts, max learned early that love doesn’t come easy—but loyalty, that’s carved into her bones. born with a null heart, she’s a myth wrapped in muscle and mystery: undetectable by angels, demons, reapers, or any force that hunts by sense or soul. possession rolls off her like water. she can’t be tracked. she can’t be touched. it makes her terrifying to enemies and priceless to her family. she walks like she’s got nothing to lose and fights like she’s already lost too much. she’s the one who keeps going when everyone else breaks—and she’ll burn the whole world down before she lets her brothers fall.

she’s a little sister, rebellious daughter, best friend, and loose cannon.

she wears dark, musky perfume that lingers like a ghost - sandalwood, tobacco flower, vanilla. she picked it not from trends, but because it masked the scent of gun oil and sulfur. castiel once said she “smells like war and cake.” she took it as a compliment. she carries the perfume in her go-bag because "smelling like sulfur and grave dirt isn't hot, dean."

sam once admitted it smells like home to him now. the smell has immortalized itself in the impala. all of the boys jackets or flannels have traces of it. when cas came along, the more time he spent around her, he started to have the smell linger on him as well.

in the beginning, the fact that cas had the smell on him as well sorta pissed dean off but he grew to secretly enjoy that traces of max were always still with them.

laundry day is sort of a funny thing because the boys have grown so used to the smell of it being on their clothes that the detergent smell kinda irritates them.

her jewelry is a collection of mismatched tokens and quiet sentimentality: a rusted bullet casing on a chain from dean (her first salt-round)— when dean went to hell, his ring stayed on that same chain until he got back home. on the inside she etched three notches, a failsafe the siblings had from when they were young, always the same meaning: three, still standing. a tiny quartz stone sam gave her when they were kids ("for luck," he’d said, dead serious), and a bent spoon bracelet she swiped from a diner in spokane during a hunt they barely survived. she wears them like armor, never flashy, but always there. quiet relics. proof she’s survived this long. her fingers are always stacked with rings - some stolen, some gifted, one possibly cursed - from a vegas exorcism. a simple band one that she wears on her left middle finger that dean stole as a gift for her seventeenth birthday. one of them doubles as brass knuckles. a few knuckle tattoos she did herself in a motel bathroom at seventeen.

known to be terribly blunt but very empathetic – max doesn’t sugarcoat things. she says it like it is—but when it counts, she understands people in a terrifyingly accurate way.

dry-humored as fuck – her sarcasm could slice through kevlar. she uses humor as both a defense mechanism and a test. this definitely stems from dean.

silent caretaker – she won’t tell anyone she’s worried. the boys have both learned to recognize that care in silence. she’ll fix their gear, stash their favorite snacks in the Impala, and stay awake until she hears them come back from a hunt.

she had to learn emotions on her own - how to cry without breaking, how to love without trusting, and how to build a self out of broken pieces no one helped her pick up.

keeps three knives on her person at all times: one silver, one iron, one sentimental. the last is rusted and cursed and belonged to john.

max doesn’t flinch from pain, but she hates watching others get hurt - her breaking point is watching dean bleed. while sam is also her older brother, dean was and always has been her protector and caretaker. in silence, max and sam look up to dean, would follow him to hell and back (again and again) if he simply asked.

stitches herself up with better precision than any ER nurse - once did it in a truck bed with a cracked mirror and dental floss. dean threw up.

talks to the Impala like it’s a person - leaves her favorite rings in the glovebox when she’s scared - “listen, sweetheart,” she says to the Impala, lovingly wiping down the dash. then stomps inside: “freakin' haunted-ass concrete bunker. smells like old men and disappointment.”

has a ritual of spitting salt over her left shoulder before a hunt - dean rolls his eyes. sam copies her when he thinks no one’s looking.

refuses to say goodbye - says “see you later” instead. says it like a prayer.

the tether of the family – she’s the one who silently ties sam and dean together when they start drifting. she talks them both down, even when she’s breaking inside.

dean’s co-pilot in grief – when things get too heavy for him to carry, she picks up the slack, sometimes without him noticing.

sam’s secret keeper – he tells her things he doesn’t even say out loud to himself. she sees his softness and protects it.

she’s the chaos between sam’s logic and dean’s instinct.

she borrows (steals) dean’s old shirts constantly—oversized flannel that smells like motor oil, leather jackets with burn holes, a metallica hoodie she swore she gave back but never did. sam’s sweaters, though? only when she’s sick. or homesick. she’ll deny it, but they’re comfort, pure and simple.

best mechanic of the siblings – dean’s good, but max feels engines. she talks to the Impala like it’s a breathing thing. she can fix a carburetor by sound alone.

her and dean used to get into a lot of petty fights about who can fix certain things faster.

a lot of the skills she honed was from bobby and john, in order to keep her out of trouble at school she was found under the hood of the impala or the odd stolen car on off days.

occult specialist – she’s the one who dives into the dark texts. latin, enochian, arcane rituals—she remembers the weird things others skim over.

this is sam and max's bonding time. being able to put everything aside and put their brains to work. they feed off each other perfectly, if sam doesn't know, max probably does and vice versa.

has a weird superstition about red thread – she always keeps some in her pack. ties it to trees. says it "keeps the soul tethered."

believes any cup of coffee over $2.50 is “a scam against humanity.” - she will rant about starbucks like it personally insulted her ancestors. meanwhile, her YETI mug says: “world’s okayest sister.”

there’s a duct tape label on one of the drawers in the bunker kitchen that says: “MAX’S DRAWER. DO NOT TOUCH. EVER.” it contains: hot sauce packets, gummy worms, three bullets, a lipstick, a sachet of salt, and an unopened red bull from 2014. dean tries to replace the red bull but the same one is constantly put back. - “it’s a relic. ain’t bothering nobody”

believes in fate but hates it – she’s convinced she’s part of something bigger, and it both comforts and infuriates her.

max didn't learn jackshit from john other than to survive, load a gun, protect her brothers, and throw punches like the ones she was aiming for owed her goddamn money- she learned about makeup and how to be anything but a hunter from drugstore aisles, grimy motel mirrors, and half-torn cosmo pages

max is the type of girl who sharpens her eyeliner with the same blade she uses to clean her gun. always picked up things from TV screens flickering in motel rooms, from other girls in bar bathrooms.

funnily enough max enjoys nail polish. she had a nail biting problem and has been putting on nail polish to counteract it because the sight of chipped nails irritates the actual fuck out of her, so it def helped there.

its always black and redone in gas station bathrooms using cheap polish and hunting knife tips as cuticle pushers. when she discovered chrome nail power, she likes the black polish + chrome look.

that said, she likes to experiment from time to time, once showed up to a hunt with blood-red polish, nails grown out (dean says they look like claws) with rhinestones on her ring fingers, and not a damn apology in sight. dean didn’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.

carries a flask labeled “holy water” that definitely isn’t holy water. (it’s fireball. dean’s tried it. regrets ensued.)

her room is somehow the cleanest and messiest at the same time - the bed’s always made. weapons are lined up by type. but the desk? it’s a chaos altar. books, coffee mugs, crushed salt packets, little bones, polaroids, expired motel keys, a crowbar, her earrings, one of sam’s hoodies.

writes little half-poems in the margins of her research journals - always half-finished. always a little sad. she pretends they don’t exist. - her handwriting is borderline illegible. sam told her to translate her notes once and she couldn't

has a list in her journal titled: “people I’d fistfight again”. it's alphabetized.

texts like a goblin: no punctuation, all caps, uses ��� constantly, ends most convos with “ok cool die”

she makes their coffee too strong. she leaves knives in weird places. she’s the one who always has a plan B...and C… and burn it all down.

supernatural mlist!

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒: i love her so obvi had to give her some headcanons. check out my spn mlist for more of my beloved oc. iʻm so happy that this oc has been recieving lots of love from u guys. my inbox is always open for suggestions, requests, and general thots. muah muah <33

[unmeisenshi]

Florence was awoken to the sound of knocking on the front door. She quickly got up and rushed to the door. "Hey... This is Team Neo Destiny how can... I..." Florence started, before she realized who it was she was looking at. A Feraligatr and an Alolan Ninetales stood at the door. Although she was expecting the Ninetales to be on four legs, this one was on two. But the visage was all too clear.

"Beck? Misha? What are you two doing here...?"

"We want to propose an idea to you. May we come in?" Misha asked. Florence stepped out of the way, inviting the pair inside. They say on the couch, while the Umbreon sat in a chair.

"What made you guys come all the way out here? It's rare for you two to not be in your café..." Florence nervously fidgeted with her hair. "And Misha... You're bipedal now..."

"Misha heard about that potion you and Morello took, and wanted in on it." Beck smiled. "It's made him even prettier. All of the guys and girls get so upset when they learn that I'm dating him."

"Beck, hun, please... You're embarrassing me..." Misha's face turned slightly red before he cleared his throat. "Regardless, in our off time we've been rehabbing our bodies. As you remember we were told we may never do rescue work again because of the injuries to our bodies." The Ninetales held onto Beck's hand. "Well, we've worked and trained these past years, and... We want to start helping out around here again. Seeing as the team is only Remi, Noel, Audie, Nobuo, and Kiske... We'd like to be of assistance to them."

Florence nodded as Misha spoke. "But... What does it have to do with me?" Her fidgeting increased slightly.

"Well... We were wondering if you would like to take over as a barista at the café. At least during the day. I know you've been through some rough stuff recently, and your mental health isn't the best. I have another 'mon set to work, her name is Carey. She'll be there to help you, and can hold down the fort if you need to take a bit to recharge." Misha said.

Florence looked down. "I... I don't know... There's a part of me that wants to, but... I'm just a bit scared..."

Beck nodded. "That's totally understandable. Like Misha said a second ago, Carey is there to back you up. We hired her because she's studying psychology. So she can double as another therapist. And we told her a bit about your condition, and she totally understands everything. She's patient and kind, and is behind you 100% and will drop everything to help you if you need it."

Florence looked up, a look of shock on her face. But the shock soon turned into something even she wasn't expecting. Her shock turned into a slight smile. "I'll... Give it a shot."

Misha smiled. "Wonderful. I'll let her know." Misha then walked over to Florence, and placed his hand on top of hers. "And Florence?"

The Umbreon looked down, then back up at Misha. "Y-Yeah?"

"I've seen your ups and downs when it comes to therapy. I watched as you cried all the way home several times. I've seen the defeated look in your eyes... Like nothing is going to work and it'll never get better. Trust me... I've been down that road too. But I just want you to know... You're doing great. When it comes to trying to get better... What you see as small steps, the world sees as giant leaps. I want you to remember that."

The words left Florence in tears. It has felt like so long since she had heard anything like that. And so for a few minutes, she embraced the Ninetales, sitting in silence as she was thankful for Misha. Thankful that the two were friends, and thankful that he was generous enough to provide extra help.

BECK THE FERALIGATR AND MISHA THE NINETALES ARE BACK

[glacialheart]

YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET I FEEL SO APPRECIATED