#hey i write!

[your-belle]

Road Trip AU → One failed marriage and one questionable career as a musician; best friends Adam and Blake decide to escape their everyday lives and travel across the states to rejuvenate their outlook on life. Driving along singing off-key to 80's hair bands, eating way too greasy diner food and staying at roadside motels they unexpectedly find love on the road. 

[your-belle]

*whispers* for the drabble thing, if you're still up for it: shevine #1 heh

#1 Come over here and make me

“You’re inmy chair.”

Adam looksdown at the chair in question, one hand smoothing along the armrest, then back upat Blake, “It would appear so,” he cheekily replies. He takes a sip of hisdrink – or maybe it’s Blake’s, he’s not too sure anymore; he likes takingBlake’s things just to rile him up – and rests further back into the chair.

“Well, getyour ass outta it.”

“Nahhhh,” hegrins up, “I kinda like it here,” then wiggles his butt into the chair foremphasis. That move earns him an eye roll.

“Get outtamy chair jackass.”

“Why don’tyou come over here and make me.” Adam taunts. Blake’s eye twitches in annoyancebut there’s also something else, something morein those eyes; a small gleam that jumps at the challenge and it makes Adam’sstomach flip.

Blake gentlytakes Adam’s cup from his hand and sets it aside. With eyes locked, Blake’s longfingers dances across the top of Adam’s hand before his grip circles around hiswrist, giving a light tickle to his pulse point. Adam’s breath catches and inone swift tug he is up on his feet. For a quick second he’s taller than Blake;looking down into those too blue eyes he knows he lost this round. Blake’sother hand settles on the small of his back to bring their bodies flushtogether.

“Blake,”Adam whispers, and maybe it should be a protest; they have an audience for fuck’ssake, but Blake’s hands are warm and pleasant on his body, he wants to feelthem everywhere and he can’t bring himself to care who sees.

“Adam,” Blakewhispers back before he spins Adam off the chair to place him down beside it.

He looks upat Blake once again but this time Blake is the one that grins. “Looks like I madeyou.” Blake lets him go, the warmth of his hands fades as he sinks downinto his chair.

“Whatever,Shelton,” Adam marches back to his own chair, his heart still racing well intothe next performance.

[your-belle]

for thesaintofbowlegs

Dean/Priestly #22 “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” Priestly simply states the moment Dean enters the sandwich shop. There are no other customers dining in the small restaurant to overhear their conversation but that does nothing to prevent Dean’s face from flushing red.

It’s been three weeks since Dean stepped foot in Beach City Grill. Three weeks since he was only supposed to pass through Santa Cruz, but couldn’t will himself to leave all because of the man now standing directly in front of him.

“And I don’t mean because of–” Dean’s eyes track the movement as Priestly’s hand makes a clean sweep from his electric blue Mohawk down to his kilt, “this.”

“I–” His heart’s racing he’s sure Priestly can hear the loud thumping.

Priestly continues before Dean can say more, “You actually see me. You get me, right here.” He touches over his heart.

Dean stares at Priestly’s quirky printed shirt and he honestly can’t be blamed for saying, “I am still waiting for my free sample.” He knows he’s deflecting but he’s terrified. Throw him in front of a werewolf and he can handle it; but this, this is new territory.

Priestly tilts his head and arches a brow, “Man, you and I both know you want so much more than just that.”

He does. But he knows he can’t have it. Dean needs to get back on the road, needs to find his AWOL father and continue the family business.

“I can see that you’re scared,” Priestly’s hands are warm on Dean’s cheeks and he carves to be wrapped up in that warmth forever. “So am I, but I think we’re good for each other.”

Dean swallows audibly, leaning further in to the touch, “yeah,” and for a moment Dean allows himself to have this; to have Priestly’s lips press against his.

[your-belle]

“Well?” Priestly tries to mask his eagerness in the simple one word question as Dean slowly chews his food.

It’s nothing fancy – ricotta ravioli with spinach pesto; okay maybe a little fancy, he had the time, whatever. Spending days on end alone in the bunker while Dean is off saving people and hunting things allows him to experiment with different dishes.

“Mmm,” Dean hums taking another fork full. “Dude.” Priestly should be appalled that Dean occasionally talks with his mouth full but it’s kind of endearing. “This is awesome.”

The praise spreads warmth through him and Priestly can’t keep the smile off his face.

“How are you real?” Dean moans around his food.

It’s an innocent question fueled by Dean’s contentment with a belly full of delicious food but Priestly can’t help but counter with, “How are you?” as he places a gentle hand on top of Dean’s.

Priestly just cooks, that’s easy. Dean on the other hand; Dean’s help saved the world on numerous occasions and that thought will never cease to amaze him.

“I just do what I do.” Dean shrugs.

“So do I,” Priestly squeezes Dean’s hand, his way of conveying he’ll always be here.

[your-belle]

For ihuggeddavidtennant

Cockles - “That is one hell of a mess.”

The moment Jensen steps through the front door he knows Misha is up to no good. What looks like rhinestones shimmer in the carpet; then leads to feathers, hot pink feathers.

“Misha?” Jensen calls as he cautiously makes his way through the living room. No answer. His eyes land on several bags of cotton balls. He calls out again.

“Shit,” rustling and loud bangs come from the kitchen.

“Oh boy,” Jensen says to himself. He breathes in and out in preparation.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Misha shouts.

Jensen doesn’t yell that the ruckus from the kitchen is a clear indicator as he proceeds to make his way through the house.  There are more obscure items littering the entryway of the kitchen.

“I am so not clean—” his sentence cuts off when he fully takes in the state of the kitchen, specifically the table. “Whoa, Misha, I—that is one hell of a mess.” He says in shock.

“Hi, Jen,”  Misha is all bright smiles with streaks of paint down his cheek and in his hair as if he ran his paint covered hands through it.

Jensen eyes the poster broad decorating the table; it’s covered with golden brown painted cotton balls, silver, green and black rhinestones, pale looking lima beans? And hot pink feathers. “Oh, dear God, please tell me that’s not my face, again.”

“It’s…not?”  Misha squints.

“Misha.”

“What? I needed to think of an interesting way to create your face for a G.I.S.H.W.H.E.S. item. And I must say; using random household items is not that bad.”

“You used hot pink feathers for my lips!”

“Oh, I’m sure this year’s wonderful participants will find far more creative ways to depict your beautiful face.” Misha finishes with a cheeky grin.

Jensen rubs a hand down his face and sighs. He’s not necessarily mad at Misha but he’s most definitely not going to help clean up the mess and he tells Misha as much.

“You’re not even going to help wash my hair?” Misha literally bats his eyelashes.

Jensen wants to say no but his own smirk is answer enough that he will.

[your-belle]

Cockles AU → The Voice Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Live Finale

Jensen Ackles is crowned season 6 winner of The Voice giving Misha Collins his fourth win on the show.

“You know you should be singing right now.” Misha shouts over the loud cheers into Jensen’s ear.

“Misha,” Jensen shakes his head in disbelief.

“Didn’t I say you were going to win this whole thing?”

Jensen seals his lips over Misha’s in answer. If at all possible the cheers get louder. “I love you Mish.”

“Love you, now go knock them dead again.” Misha hands Jensen his mic.

“Thanks Coach.”

[your-belle]

“So, a little birdie told me that I’m the funniest thing that ever happened to you.” Misha sing-songs in Jensen’s ear. 

“Little birdie lied to you,” Jensen states, not missing a beat.

“My sources are never wrong, Jen,” It’s almost a growl and Jensen smiles when he’s pulled back against Misha’s chest. Misha is solid, and warm and it feels nice, comfortable when Misha’s arms circle his waist.

He hums as he contemplates what to say next. Of course he knew Misha would hear that little tidbit, he perfectly crafted those words solely for that purpose. 

“Well, hate to break it to you Mish, but it wasn’t meant as a compliment,” he tests the waters.

“I believe it was.”

“It wasn’t, but do enlighten me.” Jensen leans his head back on Misha’s shoulder as his hands rest over Misha’s on his stomach.

“Okay, yeah maybe, maybe it wasn’t meant as a compliment, probably some lame attempt at poking fun of me because you’re an asshole like that,” Jensen laughs and squirms when Misha lightly pinches his stomach and nuzzles his ear in retaliation. “But I see the underlining of it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, I’m the funniest thing that ever happened to you because I was unexpected. I came into your life like a force of nature and you were unprepared. You didn’t know what to do with me and it kind of scared you at first.” Jensen’s heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s desperately trying to thump out of his chest. His stomach is so full of butterflies and warmth he never wants the feeling to fly away. “But you let me in and let me love and be loved.” Misha ends with a soft kiss to the side of Jensen’s head.

“Mish,” Jensen turns in his arms and presses their foreheads together. Eyes closed, his callused fingers blindly trace the stubble they’re all too familiar with. Misha’s tongue swipes playfully along Jensen’s bottom lip but otherwise the kiss is chaste.

“And of course you finally realized that I’m quite witty and my humor tickles your funny bone in ways like no other can.” Misha wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

It’s a gut reaction for Jensen to throw his head back and laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me anyways.” 

Jensen can’t deny it.

[ao3]