About: The Reader, the younger Winchester sibling, is on a forbidden solo hunt that almost goes south leaving her bleeding out but she manages to get back to her motel. Cas finds her and is furious with her and lets her know it. But he accidentally let’s out his true feelings for her.
Warning: Language, Blood and Gore, Fighting, Angst, Fluff, SMUT, Unprotected Sex (don’t be silly wrap that willy), Rough Sex, Caught the morning after.
A/N: Cas/Misha Stans, tag your fellow Cas/Misha stans NOW!!! And let know if you want to be tagged in future work.
A/N 2: I really enjoyed writing this one! I always wonder if there are secret Winchesters out there that don’t know their big brothers are Sam and Dean
Tag List: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @magssteenkamp @elansaidaris @440mxs-wife @squirrelnotsam
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I'm thrown into a nearby wall.
The back of my head smacking it so hard that I almost pass out.
Story of my fucking life when I go solo hunting.
That's going to leave me sore in the morning, I think as I get back and pick up my gun. This was such a horrible idea but, it's too late to turn back now that I am facing the werewolf that both my brothers and Cas told me not to hunt. If this wolf doesn't kill me then Dean will have my head on the chopping block before I could give some dumb ass excuse.
"For a Winchester you suck ass. Bad," The wolf taunts me. "It's no wonder they keep you locked away. I bet you can't even shoot me without missing the first few times." The wolf beings to circle me showing me his nasty teeth. "I could make your death so quick and leave your body for your brothers to find. But then of course they will stop at nothing until I'm either way." The wolf stops and stares at me. "But then again, I'm not one to leave messes behind."
The wolf lunges at me and tackles me to the ground. I do everything to keep his teeth from biting me. I kick and punch this way and that but not much damage is done to him. He grabs my arm and digs his nasty nails into the muscle and I scream out. Yep, my brothers are going to kill me for going out hunting if I survive this.
My gun slides from my hand and I roll over on my hands and knees and make my way towards it. The wolf pulls me back and attempts to bite me. I kick him square in the face and quickly get my gun and spin around and shoot him directly in the heart. He looks down at his chest as the blood starts to spill from it. Then he looks back up at me and smiles. "I take that back," he says with blood coming out. "You don't suck ass." The wolf falls on his face.
I hang my head back and stare at the night sky. The stars are beautiful and I can make out the Big Dipper. My arm starts to throb once I realize I relaxed too long. I look down to see my entire left arm in covered in blood. I start to act quickly. I pull my belt off and wrap it above the wound and tighten it up as much as I could. I take my flannel off and tie it over the wound. That should hold until I get back to the motel. The motel I paid for with the card I stole from Sam. It wouldn't be long until he was able to track it down and both he and Dean were at my door.
I make my way to the car that i took from the bunker. Another thing that my brothers will have my ass over. I turn the ignition and drove off. I think about anything but my throbbing arm. I can start to feel myself start shake. Just a few more minutes. I can start to see the stupid neon sign to the motel.
I quickly park the car and get out. I throw open the trunk and pull out my first aide kit and the bottle of whiskey I swiped from Deans room. I kick open the door and before I could close the door and set things down, I hear the door slam and I am being pinned to the door. My adrenaline starts to rise again and the throbbing in my arm slowly fades away. Just as fast as the adrenaline comes, it fades away when I realize it's not a monster or my brothers.
"How did you find me, Cas?" I ask the angel. He has a hand on my shoulder. The look on his face is pure anger. How can an angel like him hold so much anger in his face? In his eyes?
"It was not hard," Cas replies. He notices my bandaged arm and takes the tied up shirt off and sees the belt above it. "What the hell happened?" He asks pulling me from the door and leading me to the bed.
"You're not going to tell Sam and Dean are you?" I ask as Cas inspects the wound. His hands are gentle but his face still tells me he is furious.
"This is starting to get infected," Cas ignores the question. "Luckily, you think faster than your brothers and was able to stop it from getting worse." Well theres a plus. I'm smarter than my brothers. Maybe because we didn't have the same mother.
My mother was the smart one who had a one night stand with the man who saved her. That then resulted in me being born. I never met my father, only about him. When my mother died she said I should look for my father and gave me a number. That number lead me to the brothers that I never knew I had and the news that our father had died years ago. That was nearly five years ago. Since then, I learned the way of the 'family business' as Dean called. Turns out I inherited a lot from our dear old dead dad.
"YN," Cas says placing his hand over my arm. A soft glow of a light appears and I can see my arm start to heal. "You're arm is good along with any other injuries." Cas leans back and stares at me. "You could have died. What the hell happened?" He asks again with a firmer voice.
I swallow hard. Cas is never firm with me unless I'm careless and throwing my life into dangerous situations. "A werewolf," I say getting up and getting a glass of water. "A cocky ass werewolf who is dead. It didn't go as planned but at least the dick head is dead."
Cas rubs his face and sighs or maybe it's a groan. Either way, Cas is more irritated than normal. "You are so much like Dean on a hunt at times. Hot headed and cocky. No set plan in place."
"I had a plan Cas," I'm starting to get irritated as well. "It just didn't go as...well...planned." I turn to look at him. The anger on his face sent shivers down my spine. His face is suppose to be smooth and pure.
"And that plan almost got you killed," His voice starts to rise. "What would I tell your brothers if I found you dead?"
The anger in me starts to boil in me. "But I didn't, did I?" I snap at him. "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. Hunting by myself. Making this damned world a better place by myself. I don't need my brothers twenty-four seven to do all that."
In seconds Cas is across the room. His hands grip both my upper arms. "Do you not understand, YN?" He yells. "You could have died! I could have lost you. I cannot loose you."
That's when I see it. It's not anger I see in his face, it's worry and fear and...love? My anger disappears and I feel Cas's hands loosen on my arms. Cas's face falls and he starts to leave. I take a deep breath and walk after him and take hold of his hand. "Cas," I say softly and before I could get another word out, Cas spins around and pulls me into his arms and slams his lips onto mine.
The kiss is intense and I find myself melting right into it. I run my hands up between our bodies and hold onto the collar of his trench coat. I pull back and see the worry begin to fade from his eyes and face. The worry is replaced by lust and hunger. I take a few steps back and slowly remove my shirt. Cas takes both his trench coat and coat that underneath off. He walks towards me, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it off to the side along with his shoes.
I begin to back up, kicking my shoes off to the side, until the back of my legs hit the bed. Cas closes the distance between us but putting both hands on my face and softly kissing me while wrapping an around me and laying us down on the bed.
I'm aware of a warm, tingling sensation coming from Cas's hands. Where ever his bare skin touched on mine, I would feel it. It sent waves of pleasure throughout my whole. I give a soft and small sigh. Cas pushes away and stands up. The warm feeling his skin gave me also leaves. He undoes his belts and pulls his pants down. His hard dick bouncing about making me long for it inside of me.
I get to work on getting my pants off and soon, Cas is settled between my legs. He looks at me in the eyes, I see a small hint of angelic glow in his. My brothers are going to lock me away for sure once they find out about this. Because you know, they will find out eventually. I reach between our bodies and grab Cas's hard dick. I feel him tense up as I move it to my entrance and give it a few pumps before using my free hand to pull his face down to kiss me again.
Cas pushes himself inside of me, making me moan. "Oh Jesus fuck," I sigh as we adjust to each other.
"I do not think that-" Cas starts to say but I cover his mouth.
"Cas, don't ruin this," I move my hips up and Cas starts to get the idea. The lust and hunger returning to his eyes. He takes me hands and pins them onto the bed and picks up the pace of his thrusts.
The thrusts soon become almost brutally fast. The smacking of our skin echoes in the room along with my moan like screams and whimpers. "Cas, fuck, Cas," I pant and cry out. "Oh, please don't stop."
"I do not plan on it," He purrs into my ear. He slides an arm under me and flips us over to where hes sitting and I'm in his lap. He continues to fuck me harder than before. "Now, that is better." He says taking my hands and putting them on the sides of his shoulder. "Now do not come until I tell you."
I close my eyes and bite my lip as he fucks up into me. My core and entire body start to tighten up and I will kill myself if I came without being told to. I focus on anything but coming but it's so hard when the man slash angel is fucking you so good.I bite my lip harder and taste blood.
"I wanted this for so long," Cas grunts in between each powerful and earth shattering thrust. "I always wanted to know what it felt like to be inside you. To be this close to you. To feel your body on mine. To hear you sigh, scream, moan my name."
"Cas," I whimper. I'm on edge and I need release. I need to let myself go and I need to feel him completely inside of me. "Please let me come."
"Soon," he says firmly. "I am getting close too. We will come together."
Thats when I realize, Cas's thrusts were beginning to feel sloppy and uneven. I take my hands off his shoulders and press them to his face and kiss him. "Cas, come for me." My kisses are sloppy and sweaty. "Come inside me, Cas. I need to feel you all inside me." I rest my forehead on his and stare into his eye. His teeth are clenched together grunting my name softly. His thrusts, sloppier than before, still slam into me.
"Come with me, YN," Cas says thrusting deeper. He stares right into my eyes. "Come!"
I myself go and my eyes roll into the back of my head. I scream out Cas's name, digging my nails into the sides of his face. I feel Cas come with me. I feel the warmth of his cum fill me up. HIs hands grip my sides hard enough that I know bruises will be left. He moans out my name and we fall back onto the bed.
"That was fucking amazing," I say pulling the covers over us and snuggling up next Cas. "I should go out more often on solo hunt so that you fuck me angrily like that."
"Please do not," Cas wraps me up in his arms. My head rests on his chest. "I cannot bare to loose you. That is why, when I figured it out where you were going, I followed you. I was late to jump into your case but, I was also almost late. You could have bleed out right here in the room if you didn't patch your arm up right."
Listening to Cas talk about how much he cares for me, makes me guilty for going out in the first place. But then he and I wouldn't have had amazing sex and I wouldn't have known his true feelings towards me. I sit up and look at him. His blue eyes staring right back at me. I lean up and kiss him gently. "I love you, too." I say laying my head back down before passing out for the evening.
I sleep peacefully.
Until the door to motel is kicked down.
I jump up in bed, still naked from the night before. Cas is still next to me, angel blade at the ready. Naked as well. In storms both my brothers. Guns drawn with looks of anger and worry on their faces. I quickly pull up the covers to cover my bare breasts. Dean sees this and then sees Cas besides me.
Deans holsters the gun. "You guys better have some sort of clothing under there."
"Uh, Dean," Sam says looking around at the floor. Dean follows his gaze and the horror and realization falls on his face.
Dean makes his way towards the bed. Well it was nice knowing freedom, I jokingly think. Dean pulls me up by my arm and picks up my bag from the ground. He leads me to the bathroom, not without me stumbling over my shaking legs. Shaking legs from being fucked to oblivion by a celestial being. Dean looks at me and then back at Cas. More horror covering his face.
Once in the bathroom, I turn to see Cas already getting dressed. He's facing me as he buttons up his shirt and give me a satisfying smile. I give one in return and Dean sees it. He tosses the bag onto the counter. "Get cleaned up and dressed. We are all going home. And you," Dean closes the door. "You and I are going to have some words about this."
Characters: Misha, Jensen, Jared, Gen, mentions of Maison and West, and the reader.
Pairing: Past!Misha and Reader
Misha’s Scent can be found @scentsfromthebunker
A/N: Have not written in forever- a year it seems- and this came to me in a dream. It’s based around the holidays; perhaps the drop in temperature here in NJ has me longing for Christmas.
Things change; time rolls on like dust bunnies under the couch of a forgotten past. Only when you accidentally bump into the couch or move it to reposition the rug, do you see them; the memories, the clutter, and dust of your past. This time, when you dropped the couch into its rightful place once again, you found tinsel from a holiday long forgotten.
Tinsel reminded you of the warmth of the hot cocoa splashed with a nip of Baileys, the gooey melted marshmallows, that never seemed to fill your mug. Tinsel reminded you of the mittens he had sewn from scratch, that he pulled from his own coat pockets, during the snowball fights.
Tinsel reminded you of Misha. His winter white speckled hiatus beard, the shaggy hair that just barely skimmed his thick lashes that hugged the sapphires of his eyes. Tinsel reminded you of the last time you made love; under the Christmas tree, scraps of wrapping paper; your makeshift blanket.
This year, however, your tree lay untrimmed, your hot cocoa was more Baileys than chocolate, and you were griping about the work party you feigned interest in. You loved your coworkers, the cast, how could you not? The Js tried their best to get you to participate in showtime shenanigans, but the strain of Misha and your breakup, put your acting chops on the literal block; they knew you were hurting. He knew too. You loved him like no other. No, you love him and you will always. That’s why you have the knitted cap of blues and greens, with that God awful cone shaped tassel; the tassel he chose himself, packaged in tissue paper and hidden in a gift bag in your hallway closet.
Each year, you figure, this will be the year you part with it; when you hand it to him sans emotion, without wanting anything in return. But like the dust bunnies under your couch, the year turns into a few, and a few more, and before you know it, you still love him, but he loves his family now instead. In a way, you love those two children of his as much as you would have loved your own.
If only you had told him you wanted a family too. If only.
Maison stuck to your side like glue, whenever she came to set. You tried your damndest to keep her at arm’s length, but how could anyone refuse those freckles that ghost her nose, the chipped front tooth, and those careless wisps of hair? She looked so much like her father, having her by you was enough to quell the longing for something long forgotten.
This year, the holiday party was for all the families of the actors, and Jared was holding the afterparty at his ranch-like estate outside of Vancouver. Plenty of rooms, what seemed like hundreds of air mattresses, and forts for the children. You agreed to sleep over, rooming with the kids, as usual; you were their “Auntie YN” afterall. With the amount of families sleeping over, the chances of you and Misha running into one another were far and few between.
If only.
It seemed no matter where you turned, Misha was chasing after West, or Maison was chasing them both, tinsel coming off her hands like webs out of Spidey’s wrists. Misha caught your eye as he flew past, his cinnamon and gardenia cologne, invading your nostrils, the coconut of his shampoo, bringing back all sorts of memories, that no matter how hard you tried to store them away, they came crashing about you, like hidden presents in your parents’ closet. He noticed you waver for a second and damn it, he knew he shouldn’t have, but you had tinsel hanging from your fringe. His fingers ghosted over your face, removing the offensive cellophane, and he felt it; a surge, a rush of adrenaline, a punch to the stomach, the inhalation of you, and he stumbled. Bodies collided, stutterings of “I’m sorry” and “Are you okay?” had you both chuckling at the insanity of it all. You were grown ups and were acting like gosh darn teenagers. Nodding you were okay, Misha pulled on his lips, and acquiesced with a nod of his own head, before scolding his children.
It was Gen who found you in the wine cellar, tossing back some Moscato Jared had hidden in the dankness for you personally; knowing very well you did not like the dry reds.
It was Gen who listened to you drunkenly profess how stupid you were for still loving him after a decade. It was she who used her own satin sleeve to wipe your tears, and it was you, promising her you’d pay for the drycleaning. Clinking her bottle to yours, you two made it back to the party, and the families had started to dwindle down to a few stragglers, not wanting the night to end; Misha, Jensen, and Jared, the stragglers three.
Gen bid you goodnight as the boys hugged you tightly, Jensen’s mouth grazing your ear, telling you to sleep tight, while Jared again insisted you have your own room, to which you shook your head negatively, “where’s the fun in that?” Misha watched as you hugged his friends- your friends goodnight and for the second, trillionth time that night, caught your eye.
It was you who motioned to the hall and he who nodded ever so curtly that he’d follow you in a few. “Tuckin’ the monsters into bed, give me ten?”
Agreeing, you almost made it towards the kids’ room, before Maison barreled into you, hugging your legs tightly. “Ma said we’re leavin’ early in the mornin’ and we’re havin’ a sleepover next to the fireplace, ‘stead of sleepin’ in the room with all the kids.”
Heartbroken, you didn’t let that phase you, as she squeezed tighter, “Goodnight, YNN,” she looked up from beneath mussed hair and you bopped her nose, “‘Night Kid.”
You grabbed the gift bag from your duffel, something you stole from the props department, and made way to the furthest side of the house. Sat under the tree, Misha found you. Silently, you handed him the bag, as he sat across from you, his pajama pants loose around his waist, and he hesitantly took the gift bag into his lap. Sorting through the tissue paper, his fingers grasped the knit hat, and as he pulled it out, he let out a slow chuckle, as the cone shaped tassel flitted to and fro.
“Merry Christmas, Mish,” your eyes moist, but your heart full. It was time to move on.
His throat constricted with bottled up emotions, he donned the hat, gave you that mischievous wink, and flicked the tassel, eliciting laughter, “Merry Christmas, YN.”
Passing on that hat was supposed to feel final; you were supposed to feel free. All you felt was longing and as you two parted from a hug, you watched him walk back to his family, you whispered to yourself, “I still miss you.”
Tagging: @d-s-winchester @castielspahdehrah omg I have no clue who likes Misha fics!
Summary: You’re Misha’s best friend. Working with him on SPN had never been a problem, until one scene, forcing you both to admit certain truths about each other and find that kisses have consequences.
Feedback is GOLD. If you like it, reblog it. Work is unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. Don’t be afraid to leave a comment.
A/N: This chapter is portrayed by Misha’s point of view.
It must have been the smell of coffee. He didn’t know why but it was making her gag. He could clearly see her try to mask the scent as she walked faster out of proximity to the offensive smell. It had made her retreat to the other side of the canteen with a cup of tea- presumably. She was doing what he was, grabbing a quick drink before heading back onto set. He stayed in his seat, knowing he would be unwelcome if he went over to her.
They had something and she knew it too, she had just pulled the shutters down before anything could happen, due to him already having a family. She didn’t want to be the one to blame, protecting herself and him, he guessed.
Once she had finished her small cup, he downed the rest of his, getting up only after she did. Se stopped by to greet a few people then made her way out of the canteen, quickly. He followed as she walked the same way to set.
He wanted to talk to her. Why shouldn’t he be able to? Because it would make her uncomfortable as she figured out her feelings. It had gone on long enough. He missed her. He missed talking to her, without her he felt a part of him was empty. He wanted to approach her, and claim back their friendship. It might not become what it used to be and he could live with that.
She walked on set, him not far behind. Jared, Jensen and their guest Greg was there already conversing. They waved him over, and Y/N. Y/N treated Greg like he was a lifelong friend. It was one of the things she had learnt during her time on the show. She didn’t know how long any person would be on the show, so she welcomed all with open arms as he had done to her it wasn’t long before Robert called them all back to their places.
*
Misha watched her from across the room, rolling his eyes like Castiel would at Greg’s purposely bad throw intended for Y/N’s character to catch. She too rolled her eyes, made an annoyed sound and bent down, as Jensen delivered his line.
“Oh, nice one.”
Misha stood there stoically, giving the man his typical Castiel judging look, keeping her in his peripheral vision. She stood up and blinked a couple times, looking like she had birds tweeting around her. He really wanted to ask if she was all right but he couldn’t. Now wasn’t the right time. Later.
“Next time, try aiming for me…”
Y/N swayed, her line faltering, wavering, her eyes wide, an arm semi-consciously out like she was trying to feel her way. He watched her fall, like a sack of potatoes, crashing into a prop table.
Everything stilled for a second, his heart in his throat. He didn’t think about what he did. After four weeks of not being able to go near her, unless in character, he made it over to her in less than three strides, too fast surprising other around him. He dropped down next to her and called her name.
He tried three times. She did not respond. Jensen, Jared and the crew were now at her side. He needed to give her air. He moved his arm.
“Get back, she needs air.”
Jared and Jensen were great at making sure everyone was back enough for her. He could hear them asking questions, wanting answers he didn’t yet know.
He checked her pulse. She was alive, could feel her blood pumping prominently through her veins. He did a silent ‘thank you’ to the ceiling as he rolled her over and began placing her in the recovery position whilst grabbing a phone and dialling 911.
He didn’t want to touch her head, being fearful she had hurt herself. Her fall hadn’t protected her head.
He had just finished contacting 911 for an ambulance when Y/N groggily came round. She went to move but he placed a hand on her body.
“Y/N, it’s best you don’t move. You collapsed on us. Gave us a fright. You may have hit your head, so I’ve called an ambulance.”
She groaned.
“My head…”
“You fell quite hard. An ambulance is on its way.”
She seemed to understand that, whispering a simple okay to him. That was the second time he had mentioned it and she hadn’t even batted an eyelid. She hated hospitals and he was surprised she wasn’t arguing with him.
“You weren’t out long, just a minute or two. That’s all.”
He could see she wanted to nod, but she looked pained, probably with a killer headache. She licked her lips, assuming they had become quite dry and most likely in need of some water.
*
He wasn’t really her next of kin, but with little family left and too far to travel, he had advised her to place him as emergency contact. It meant he would be contacted first for everything and first to know what was going on.
She was out like a light and he was beside her bed. They wanted to keep her in for observations, he didn’t argue, but he knew Y/N would.
He had promised to keep the team updated with news when he came back, and would most likely be the one to pick her up tomorrow morning.
The door opened and a man with a short, cropped haircut and white doctor’s coat walked in holding a clipboard. he had a name badge on which read Dr. Reed. He gave him his attention for the time being.
“I have to ask, as her first point of contact, are you her partner?”
Misha considered this. Her partner. He wanted to be.
“Of sorts.” He replied.
The doctor nodded and seemed to relax a little.
“Okay. I have her blood test results here,” Misha was rapt. “Everything is fine. In fact, she’s remarkable in the early stage of pregnancy,which would most likely explain her fainting spell. At the moment, she’s on a standard IV, gaining some fluids inside her, preventing dehydration. I suggest she makes an appointment with our maternal unit for future appointments.”
Misha was struck for gold. Pregnant. Y/N was pregnant. With his baby. It had to be his baby. Unless she slept with someone straight after him, but he didn’t think she did. She had been shook up enough about them.
His heart felt like it had swelled three times the size. He was going to be a father again. Finally the ‘separation’ between them would be void, thanks to their addition.
That explained the look she had this morning, avoiding the coffee, going for tea instead.
It would be up to him to tell her. Inside his little bubble burst. As soon as he would tell her she would most likely be horrified that something came to be from their night of passion. Now he felt sick. He hoped she wouldn’t terminate their little bundle. He was excited for this, wanted this. She would hate him. Would blame him most likely and he was prepared for her to throw her punches.
Did he really want to tell the team of this wondrous news when he got back? He knew he should, but he didn’t want to. Instead he wanted to keep it to himself. He didn’t even want to tell the mother of the child, which he knew would blow up in his face. He knew he was being selfish with his decision. But he wanted to protect this little secret.
He vowed to keep her safe, even if he had to do it from afar.
*
He pulled up to the entrance and Y/N was there waiting, ready to go home, or at least back to her trailer. She looked tired. Like she hadn’t gotten enough rest during her one night stay. But that was okay, considering what was happening to her body. She was growing their child.
She walked over and opened the door, sitting beside him. She looked at him, then back to the windshield.
“Thanks. I mean, you didn’t have to-”
He stopped her.
“I wanted to.”
She sighed and started to pull at the seatbelt next to her, clipping herself in, before he set off.
She sniffed, scrunching her nose.
“God, is that coffee?” she sniffed again and then gagged, covering her mouth and nose with a sleeve.
“Ugh, it is. Drive faster.”
He shook his head, smiling a little. She had an aversion to coffee.
“What is it with you and coffee?”
She looked at him.
“I don’t know, but I swear, if you don’t get out of here I’m going to throw up.”
“Right. On it.” He drove out of the hospital, away from the offending smell and into the direction of home- as closest as home could be.
A/N: Please enjoy this little one shot I’ve been messing with these past few days. Beta’d by the ever wonderful @sculptorofbeginnings
Angst/Fluff
Misha Collins x Reader
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence and Death
W/C: 2172
Summary: It started out as a secret and it grew, as secrets often do.
You shifted in your seat, trying to blend in and look like just another fan. You smiled as they played his theme song, biting back a laugh while he sent you text after text as though he wasn’t currently holding up an entire convention. These were the moments you cherished, when he made you feel like the only person in world. They were fleeting, few and far between, but you burned every single one to your memory, like a tattoo on your heart that might fade in time but would be with you always.
When he came out on stage his eyes found yours, as if they were drawn by a magnetic pull. He gave a knowing wink, and you couldn’t help but grin as the girls on either side of you squealed in delight. Misha launched into a story about your morning adventures, quite literally running into a protest downtown, awestruck at how he dove headfirst into the cause, somehow scrounging up poster board and markers; easily coercing you into making signs with him with the promise of an extra large morning latte. When things had gotten too heated for your liking, you had grabbed Misha’s hand and led him away to the coffee shop on the corner.
You looked around as Misha began taking fan questions, and that’s when you saw his face. It jumped out at you from the crowd, causing your heart to palpitate in your chest, though you weren’t sure why. A few more questions were answered as you flipped through memories, trying desperately to figure out why this stranger was making your skin crawl and tingle in anticipation.
He stood up, a tan trench coat that was two sizes too big swaying as he made his way to the middle isle that led to the main stage. As soon as you saw the frayed and stained bottoms, everything clicked into place. The world slowed down as you jumped out of your chair, fear radiating off of your body as your eyes caught the glint of a gun you knew wasn’t a cosplay prop; he was the man that Misha had gotten into a fight with at the protest, and while you had brushed off his death threats there, now they seemed impossibly tangible.
The entire audience went silent as he said Misha’s name, stopping him mid sentence. The metallic click of the safety reverberated through the auditorium, urging you forward. You began to run as Misha dropped his microphone, all the color draining from his face while he took slow, unsteady steps backward. Someone screamed as he cocked the gun, and you stepped in front of it just as he began to aim.
“Don’t do this.” For a second the voice in the air didn’t register as your own. It was strong and steady, the exact opposite of how you felt currently. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Oh sweets, I think I really want to do this. Now move.”
You looked him directly in the eyes. They were a cloudy gray, hazy and rimmed in red. His pupils were dilated, and you realized that he was terrified as well. When you didn’t move he tried to aim the gun over your shoulder, but you wrapped your hands around the cold barrel and you pressed it to your chest.
“If you are going to kill anyone in this building, it’s going to be after you kill me.” He paused, his attention turning from you to Misha. His eyes bore into yours, confusion washing over them; you had caught him off guard, and now he wasn’t sure how to continue. People were now streaming out of the room, and you could tell he was getting flustered, his plan now thrown out the window. “If you are going to shoot anyone, it’s going to be me. After you watch the light fade from my eyes, feel my body go weak and useless against yours, then you can decide if you want to pull this trigger again while it’s facing another person.”
He swallowed hard. You felt his grip on the gun loosen momentarily, his hands starting to shake as the realization of the true consequences of his actions were catching up in his head. He looked over your shoulder, glancing at Misha once more. You could see in the reflection of the projector screen in his glasses that Misha was frozen, watching you with an open mouth and a pale face, resisting as Cliff tried to pull him backstage.
The lights in the auditorium went off. The gunshot seemed to echo forever. Screams harmonized as you swayed on your feet. The pain wasn’t instant. The gun was suddenly heavy in your hands as he dropped it, and you heard him fall as he backed away from you, semi-coherent apologies streaming from his lips. The front of your shirt was hot and sticky as you stepped backwards until your back hit the wooden base of the stage. You slid to the floor as the lights came back on.
Misha dropped to the ground beside you. He pulled you close, squeezing as though he was trying to hold you together. The gun fell from your hands as you reached for him, clutching the front of his t-shirt with whatever grip you could muster. One hand traveled to his cheek, forcing his gaze from your chest to your face.
“Misha, I-” Your voice shook. Tears began to spill from broken blue eyes.
“No, don’t say it.” His lip quivered.
“I love-” The edges of your vision were beginning to darken.
“Y/N please, I need you.” His voice cracked.
“You.” You closed your eyes, and he screamed.
Misha jumped as Jensen wrapped an arm around his shoulder. His touch pulled Misha from the memory, and after a few blinks the red faded from his shaking hands, the weight of your body in his arms a ghost once more. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, turning his attention once more to the fan that had asked the question.
He brought it upon himself, doing an interview three months after the incident when the fandom was buzzing with rumors you didn’t deserve. The headline still sat on the their coffee table, staring at him on calm nights while Vicki worked on her new book and he tried to think about anything other than what had happened; ‘Misha Collins and the fan that saved his life: “I loved her.”’ He hoped that he had done you justice.
Now, six months later, the first convention was harder than anyone had imagined.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t-” The fan backtracked.
“No, that’s okay. It’s a long story, so I’ll give you the cliff notes.” Misha took a deep breath, and Jensen squeezed his shoulder for support. “She strode onto set her first day with a confidence that I could only ever wish to have. She was wild, constantly pushing me past limits and somehow finding the best in every situation. She felt like sunshine and-” He paused, tears burning his eyes again as her memory danced behind his eyes.
“She was made for Misha.” Jensen interjected. “We could all see it. Vicki even started calling her his ‘set wife’ after her first visit for the new season.” Jensen’s laugh eased a bit of the pain that weighed heavy on Misha’s chest.
“It’s funny, when you think you have so much time with a person you waste it. You let precious days slip through your fingers like they’re never ending, when in reality-” Another pause, another shaky breath- “I refused to let myself feel what I should have been feeling all along. I hid her away like my own little secret, because I was scared of getting hurt. I put up walls that she didn’t deserve, and on this side of things I realize that I wasn’t shutting her out, but I was locking myself up. What’s the difference betweens walls keeping out the world and fencing yourself in anyways?” He bit his lip, turning to look at Jensen before continuing. “That moment, when she stood so strong in front of that gun for me, when she could have slipped away with the crowd and no one would have even questioned it, that’s the moment I knew I loved her.”
“Did you ever try and find her afterwards?”
“There was a bomb that went off in the lobby. A lot of pandemonium that day, and there was a mixup in with what hospital she was taken to. The last I heard she was pronounced dead in the ambulance-” Misha’s voice cracked again, and he bit his lip.
“Misha looked. We all did. We spent weeks calling all the hospitals in the area, searching for her by name, looking for Jane Does… It seems like something that could only happen in the movies, but she was gone.”
The crowd gasped, and for a second Misha’s skin prickled as panic started to spread. The memory threatened to break through again, the real world in front of him blurring as he started to lose his grip on what was here and now and what was in the past. Jensen laid his hand on Misha’s forearm, squeezing it and grounding him with the sensation. He could still hear her voice saying his name, and he shook his head, ready to leave the panel before he lost his control in front of the crowd.
“Misha.”
He looked up, sure that he was hearing a ghost, but there you were on the other end of the stage. You were tucked protectively beneath Jared’s arm, standing between him and Vicki, looking impossibly small. Bright red fresh scars peaked out from the dip in your shirt, and you had lost weight, but you were there.
Misha’s microphone clattered to the ground. He was on his feet, the sound of his chair falling to the stage causing you to flinch as his legs carried him to you. He wrapped you in his arms, crushing you to his chest as you wrapped your legs around his hips. He kissed you, not caring anymore who saw, or what they thought. Your tears mixed together on his face, hot and wet, and for a moment you just existed together once more.
“I love you too.” He managed, pressing his lips to whatever skin of yours he could reach while your laughter bubbled out.
“Happy birthday Misha.” Vicki’s hand rubbed circles on his back as she kissed his cheek, and he turned to give her a kiss as well.
“And here I thought you couldn’t out-do last years gift.” Laughter floated through your little group as the crowd behind them cheered, bringing Misha back to down to earth.
He sat you down on the ground, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours before pulling you up on stage. Jensen followed, a bright grin on his face as Misha sat back down his his chair, pulling you into his lap.
“I’m sorry guys, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to finish this panel without a special guest appearance.”
No one protested.
“Why did you hide?” Misha asked, his thumb caressing your cheekbone as his hand cupped your face. You ran your hands through the hair on his chest, pressing kisses on his hot skin while you tried to work out what you wanted to say.
“I was scared. When this started you told me that you couldn’t love me. Not after what had happened before. I was okay with that for awhile, but somewhere along the line just having you wasn’t enough. I wanted you and Vicki, and the kids. I wanted to be a part of your family.” A tear slipped down your cheek and Misha kissed it away, pulling you closer and nuzzling against your neck. “I didn’t have control of myself and my feelings like I thought I did, and that scared me. You were in control, so I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran.” You could feel Misha’s tears against your neck, and you carded your hand through his hair comfortingly. “I didn’t want to force you to make a decision that you didn’t want to make. Or maybe I was scared of you not making the decision I wanted.”
“I’m sorry.” It was a whisper against your skin, and for a moment you wondered if you heard it or felt it. “I’m sorry for so much Y/N. I’m sorry for-”
You pressed your lips against his, cutting off his apology.
“If I let you continue we are going to be in this bed for another fifteen years.” A sad chuckle escaped his lips before he kissed you again, long and slow.
“Probably.”
Words stopped, and hands spoke. Touches mended cracked souls, lips pressed broken pieces back into place. You relearned each others bodies in the dark, not resting until long after the sunrise burned through the thin hotel curtains.
Summary: You, Misha and Jensen talk about your feelings for one another and end up in a polyamorous relationship. The three of you are equal and love each other with all your heart. Although the sex is great, is the love the three of you share enough to get you through the surprise that is on the other end of the road.
Rating: Mature
Square filled: Bartender!Jensen
Written for @spnaubingo and @percywinchester27 Ana’s PJO quotes Challenge with the prompt ‘I gave her my deluxe “I’ll kill you later stare.”’
A/N – This is part 4 of the series but can be read as part one. The first three parts are pure smut.
Why Not Both? - Masterlist
You shouldn't have done what you did, but you didn't know what else you could do. You were in shock.
Both of the boys were perplexed with your withdrawal from them, it punched them in the gut a few times too.
When they had opened up the bar, they noticed that you still hadn't shown your face. Not even to say hello.
'You think she's busy?' Jensen asked as he wiped over the sticky surface of the bar counter top.
Misha looked up from his paperwork, checking the stock and inventory they had and needed to get. 'Again? She's been busy for the last seven days, surely she would have texted or called, and I don't think Stan would have been that hard on her to giver her work that needs 24/7 observation.'
'Do you think she doesn't wanna be with us anymore? Maybe she doesn't like to have two, or it was just too much?' Jensen babbled, all the possible scenarios being that he had done something wrong, that there was too much pressure to be with both him and Misha.
'But I can't think why, she was the one to ask us to do this. We were happy to do this, Jensen. Is it too much to ask to at least get a call from her.'
Jensen wracked his brain to see if he had done anything wrong, when he came up empty he asked Misha if he had even an inkling of an idea of your whereabouts.
'Oh yeah sure, I gave her my deluxe “I’ll kill you later stare.” Full beady little eyes and everything. Told her to run away from us because we're too great, and I wanted you all to myself.' Misha exasperated with flailing arms. Of course, he had no idea where you were. He wanted you with them just as much as Jensen did, but any rational thought flew out the window, much like the words tumbled out of Misha's mouth.
Jensen had rounded the bar counter top, his rag disposed of and almost instantly forgotten. Jensen smoothed down the wrinkles of Misha's work shirt, gripping his hands and bringing them up.
'I'm sorry, okay. I want her to be here with us, I do, but I'm just so worried about her. I want her back home with us, where she belongs.'
'I'll put this stuff away and then give her call. All we can do is hope that our girl comes back to us, Jensen.'
Jensen nodded and checked his watch, another hour before they would open, he helped Misha clear the table before the latter pulled his phone out and dialed your number once again. The same thing happened, it rang and rang until it went to your voicemail.
You had asked your boss, Stan, for some time off from work. You had to process what you had learned a few days ago. He had happily agreed, due to you being a member of staff that hadn’t yet taken a day off from work.
Your cell had blasted - again. Checking the caller ID, you let it go to voicemail, not really wanting to talk to Misha or Jensen.
Looking at the time, you figured you should eat, everything you used to love now made you heave and the fact that you were now carrying a bun in the oven made you scared that you wouldn’t be able to eat.
Of course, you were being a little dramatic, just a little.
You had met up with your little brother, Alexander, and your best friend, Briana. They had instantly noticed that something was wrong when you had turned your nose up to your favourite meal, claiming that you weren’t hungry for anything.
Alex had promised to keep your secret from your parents until you were ready to tell them. Briana had gone out and told you she would be back soon and the doorbell indicated that that time was now.
You yanked the door open and walked back to your place on the couch. Under the blankets with your legs tucked under you.
‘I got you a few books for you to read. Some of them are pregnancy books but then I got you some of those one that you just love to read.’
When you didn't answer her, Briana continued, placing a hand on your blanket covered shoulder.
‘You have to talk to them, Y/N/N, they'll be worried sick and you can't avoid them forever.’
She had a point, of course she did. ‘But Bri, I'm scared.’ You almost whispered.
‘I know, sweetie, and I know it wasn't planned but they'll love that little bug in there.’ She said comfortingly.
‘You really think so?’ You peeked your head out of the blanket so that you could see her.
She nodded. ‘I do. And the fact that they haven't stopped calling you has gotta mean something right? They care about you and they'll come to love that baby too. I doesn't matter about how early on in the relationship it is. If they wanted to be with you then they gotta accept that your carrying their child.’
She was wise beyond her years and you were thankful that Briana was your best friend.
‘Thank You, Bri. Can you grab my phone please?’ You asked, your hands dragging the stack of books under the blanket so you could hug them to yourself.
Briana handed you your cell and left you to cook you some food that didn't want to make you gag.
You had sent a text to both Jensen and Misha apologising for your behaviour and asking if you could meet them after their shifts and were taken over for the night. Naturally, they took any opportunity they could so agreed immediately. They just wanted to know that you were okay.
Jensen and Misha kept their eye on the clock all day, waiting for the time that they could ask Mark, their manager to take over and meet you at their apartment.
You had finally plucked up enough go. The pregnancy tests you had taken to be sure that you were actually pregnant were tucked into your purse, your heart was pounding in your chest. You were still nervous and scared as hell.
Once you were inside, you pulled your coat off and folded it over your arm.
Misha and Jensen had kept a relatively small distance away from you, respecting you and your needs.
You apologised to them with ultimate sincerity, in which they asked you why you had pulled away from them.
Taking a deep breath, you sipped at the water they offered you, mentally preparing yourself for the bombshell that you were going to drop on them.
You pushed the water away from you and pulled your purse closer, ready to pull out the pregnancy test.
‘I'm pregnant and I don't know who the father is.’
Warnings: Character death - aside from that I will list the warnings in the tags since I don’t want to give anything away.
Word Count: 2300ish
A/N: Hey guys welcome to SPN Angst Appreciation Day 2017 - I hope y’all are ready to cry. As one of your hosts I thought it was my duty to do my best to make sure you go to bed with puffy eyes tonight so I am posting 3 brand new one shots in honor of this day. This is number 2
@chaos-and-the-calm67 was sweet enough to let me submit for her challenge a little late so I could post this on Angst day. My prompt was “She has this gentle laugh that sounds like running water. I’ll do almost anything to amuse or entertain her, just so I can hear it. But she’s not laughing all that much anymore, is she? Ever since…” - My prompt gif is under the cut.
Thanks to a billion to my sweet lil sis @mysupernaturalfics for betaing this for me.
***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***
Misha’s heart jumped into his throat when he saw her across the street. She was as beautiful as he had always been, maybe even more so. He felt as if his entire body was being pulled towards her, but his head stopped him. She was smiling. It had been so long since he had seen that perfect smile of hers and he knew that the moment she saw him it would disappear. He was a constant reminder of what they had lost to her, even if Misha was barely breathing without her, he couldn't approach her. She needed time away from him and even if she could never find away to look at him without falling apart ever again Misha would accept that. He could live with his heart in pieces. He could live with being alone, but what he couldn’t live with was being the cause of her unhappiness. So he respected her wishes and he stayed on his side of the street. He couldn’t tear himself away though, he just stood there watching her. Remembering a time when they had been happy.
“Mish!!” Misha jumped from the couch where he had been sitting reading the newest Supernatural script, when her cry sounded through the house. Misha sprinted up the stairs and towards their bedroom where he had thought her voice had originated from, but when it was empty he instantly grew all the more concerned.
“Y/N/N? Where are you, baby?” Misha called out for her, to see her head pop out of their master bathroom.
“In here,” she replied with a smile and Misha breath a sigh of relief, when he saw her smiling at him.
“Dammit woman! Don’t scream like that. I thought there was a burglar up here or something,” Misha’s voice was more teasing than scolding as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss. “You hollar?” Misha smirked at her resting his forehead against hers as they broke apart.
“Yeah,” she answered still looking slightly dazed from the kiss and Misha chuckled, making her slap her hands flat against his chest. “Well if you kiss a girl like that, it is no wonder she get momentarily amnesia,” Y/N sulked, making Misha full on laugh.
“You are aware we have been married for 4 years right?” Misha’s teasing made her eyebrows shoot to her forehead as she glared playfully at him.
“Doesn’t stop you from staring at my boobs every chance you get or smack my ass when we have guest over,” she poked his chest, pretending to be mad and Misha held his hands up in defense.
“Touche, beautiful.” He chuckled, “did your memory happen to return yet?”
“Oh yeah,” she beamed, quickly turning around grabbing something of the counter, before hiding it behind her back. “Guess,” she ordered and Misha felt his heart skip a beat.
They had been trying to get pregnant for months with no luck. It was getting to the point where it was getting a touchy subject, so Misha barely dared speak the words. He swallowed harshly, looking to her flat stomach and back to her face before speaking, “you’re… are you?”
Y/N laughed, pulling the pregnancy test from behind her back, showing him the little plus in the middle of it. “We’re having a baby Mish!”
Misha felt the tears press against his eyes as he thought about their son; Raiden Lionel Collins. Y/N had been glowing for 9 months and Misha had never seen her happier. She had grown more and more beautiful to him with each passing day until she had finally woken him up in the middle of the night, telling him it was time. Misha had panicked, falling of the bed and running for the car, with her bag in hand totally forgetting about his wife until he was pulling out of the driveway.
Misha hit the breaks, grumbling curses at himself as he jumped out of the car and ran back inside the house to find his very pregnant wife struggling to get down the stairs.
“I’m so sorry baby,” Misha pleaded with her when he saw the look in her eyes, “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking,” he admitted, grabbing her arm supporting her weight.
“I think the trouble is that you weren’t,” she snapped at him, before crouching over in pain from a contraction hiding her.
Misha held her up, preventing her from falling down the stairs, gently rubbing his free hand on her back. “It’s gonna be okay baby. Just br…”
“I swear to God Misha if you tell me to breath I am going to kill you,” she hissed at him and Misha instantly stopped talking.
It had taken them a few minutes to get her down of the stairs and to the car, but when they had Y/N’s mood seemed to have improved a bit. She was still in pain and uncomfortable but at least she was not making threats against his life anymore.
It had been a speedy birth, which Misha thanked the stars for. Had it been even a few minutes longer, he was sure she had broken his hand if not his neck. No matter what he had said seemed to cause a very angry outburst from her, but he had kept trying. Right up until the moment where Y/N held their son in her arms.
“Look at him Mish,” Y/N coed as Misha sat down on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arm around her. He was so proud of her and he had never loved her more than he did in that moment. He had never thought he could love another human being as completely and instantly as he loved the little bundle in her arms.
“He’s perfect,” Misha gushed and Y/N looked up at him with happy tears in her eyes.
“We made him,” she spoke in complete awe and Misha smiled pressing his lips against hers in a tender, loving kiss.
“Well, you did the hard part,” he chuckled and winked at her, “though I am not sure my hand will ever work probably again.”
The first few months had passed in a happy, sleep-deprived daze and every day Misha had fallen more and more in love with his little family. He had never been more proud of his wife. The way she was with Raiden had taken his breath away completely. They had never been happier, right up until the night where Misha’s world had come crashing down around him.
A glass-rattling scream echoed through the house and Misha was instantly pulled from his sleep. He jumped from the bed, following his wife’s screams and cries until he reached their son’s nursery. His heart stopped the second he saw her on the floor with Raiden in her arms. The little boy’s lips were blue and he was completely pale.
“Misha,” Y/N looked up at him, silently pleading with him to do something. To save their son. To wake her up from this nightmare, but Misha knew it was too late. Still he rushed from the nursery, getting his phone, dialing 9-1-1.
Within minutes the paramedics rushed through the doors, doing everything within their power to receive their son as Misha held Y/N back. She was crying and screaming as they worked, but to no avail. SIDS had taken their perfect, blue-eyed baby boy and with their lose a deep abyss formed between them.
Misha had tried everything. The first few months after their son’s passing, Y/N had barely left their bed. Misha had coached her to eat and bathe but he couldn’t get her out of the house. His own heart was breaking. He had kept seeing Y/N and Raiden happy and healthy as he had silently walked around the house, keeping everything in order and cooking for his grief struck wife. He had to push everything aside for her and be strong. Falling apart wouldn’t do her any good, so Misha kept pushing through, but the way she acted around him didn’t make it any easier. She turned away from him when they slept, she shied away from his touch and she barely looked at him anymore. Misha wished there was something he could do. Hell he would take her screaming and crying over this, but her grief was too deep. Misha had no idea how to pull her out of it.
When he was home he had moved around like a robot, going through the motions, keeping her as healthy as he could. His heart breaking a little, every time she had refused to look at him.
It took Misha a few months of Jensen knocking on his trailer door each time he was on set to finally break down in tears himself. He hated leaving her behind, when she was feeling like this, even if it was only for a few days at the time.
Misha was sitting on Jensen’s couch across from his friend. In his hands Misha held a picture of Y/N and Raiden. It was his favorite one. He loved the way it looked like his son was smiling up at his mom and she was completely glowing.
“Y/N’s laugh might be my favorite thing about her,” Misha finally spoke quietly and Jensen just sat there listening to him. “She has this gentle laugh that sounds like running water. I’ll do almost anything to amuse or entertain her, just so I can hear it. But she’s not laughing all that much anymore, is she? Ever since…” Misha’s words trailed out and Jensen instantly shuffled to sit beside him, wrapping his arm around Misha’s shoulder as he fell apart completely. “This isn’t fair Jensen,” Misha sobbed into his friend’s embrace.
“No, buddy. It isn’t,” Jensen agreed letting the heavy silence fall between them, knowing there was nothing he could said or do that would take Misha’s pain away.
Misha still wasn’t sure how he had made it through after a convention he had come home to find her gone. He had panicked at first, fearing the worst. With the way she had been feeling he should never have left her alone. He called everyone they knew until her mom finally called him back telling him she was with a family friend and that she needed time.
He wasn’t sure how he had kept working or even breathing after that. She had been his entire world for so long. They had been dating for 10 years before they had finally gotten married and Misha had no idea how to even exist without her. Every night he read the letter she had left him over and over again, desperate to find some hope in there that she wasn’t gone for good. But every night he found none and he ended up crying himself to sleep, clutching the pillow wishing it was her.
Misha.
I am so sorry. I know this isn’t fair to you. I know you lost a son too. Our perfect little boy, with big blue eyes and fluffy dark hair. My little boy, who looked so much like my husband. I used to love that and now all I can see every time I look at you is him. All I can feel every time you are near me is the grief that is threatening to suffocate me.
Misha you are my best friend and the love of my life. I will always love you, but I can’t be with you anymore. I am so sorry and I hope that you can forgive me one day.
Y/N.
Now here she was right in front of him, almost a year after she had left. She had never filed for divorce and neither had he, but he had come to terms with the fact that he would never see her again. That he would never see her smile, and here see was. Smiling with a few of her friends. Right up until her eyes met his from across the street that was. Misha felt the tears stream down his face as she froze for a moment, just staring at him, before taking off. Running away from him as fast as she could. Misha didn’t think, he just reacted. Following her down to the beach, where he after searching for close to an hour found her, sitting on the rocks, staring down at something in her hands.
“Y/N/N?” Misha spoke softly, hoping she wouldn’t run again. She didn’t but she also didn’t look up at him. She stayed as Misha sat down next to her looking over her shoulder to see the picture. She had taken it in the kitchen the day after their first family outing. Raiden was asleep on Misha’s chest and Misha was making a silly face as Y/N snapped the picture.
Tears were streaming down her face when she looked up at Misha and his heart shattered into a million pieces. “I miss you so much Mish,” she sobbed, “but I don’t know how to be with you without him.”
Misha gentle open his arms to her and she fell into his embrace, crying uncontrollably as Misha ran his hand over her hair, breathing a small sigh of relief. He knew there was no guarantees. He knew they were both still hurting, but at least she spoke to him. At least she was letting him hold her.
“I miss you too baby,” Misha spoke through his own tears as they clung to each other. “I miss you too...”
Pairings: Misha x Reader, Jensen, Jared, Clif, and the rest of the SPN Family
Word Count: 6k damn this is my longest fic
Warnings: Death of a minor character, angst, swearing, fluff
A/N: This is my entry for @frickfracklesackles’s 1000 Followers Challenge! This is also my first attempt at writing Misha so... This was actually really enjoyable to write, and it got away from me... The quote is bolded in the fic so it is relatively easy to find. Enjoy!
Prompt: Important person dies, you fall for the person who helps you through it.
Quote: “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure" - Albus Dumbledore
"Misha fucking Collins!" You screamed at your very immature blue-eyed co-worker. You leapt out of your chair, taking a few steps towards him, but only to scare him.
Misha only laughed harder as he ran away from you. He had just ruined yet another scene by making obscene faces at Jared and Jensen, effectively making them screw up their lines. It made the fifth ruined scene of the day.
You turned around to face your other giant co workers, who were laughing their asses off on the dirty floor. "Don't get me started, you two!" You reprimanded them. "This is the last scene today, let's just get through it, please!” You pleaded with them.
They must have heard the desperate note in your voice because Jensen and Jared apologized, collecting themselves quickly.
You huffed, and sat back down in your director's chair. "Let's roll again," you said with a heavy sigh.
The crew quickly reset everything, getting ready to roll again.
When Jensen and Jared were on their marks, you gave the crew the word, yelling action.
Jensen and Jared were currently working through an emotional scene, a chick-flick moment, as Dean would say. Another person died, and Dean had to break the news to Sam. It wasn’t written in, but Jared said that he wanted to cry at the end. The boys were halfway through the scene when you were interrupted yet again. This time it wasn't your childish co-worker, but the sound of a phone ringing through the set, "Jesus fucking Christ!" You yelled, "At this rate, we're never going to get this scene done!"
The phone kept ringing and ringing, yet no one had stepped up to answer it. You saw a few crew members check their phones, soon realizing that it wasn't their phone that was ringing. "Will someone please shut that damn thing off?" you snapped harshly as the incessant ringing stopped for a moment before picking back up again.
A nearby sound man named Chris followed the noise, he walked down the line of bags against the wall and stopped in front of yours. Your face grew hot as he pulled your phone out of your bag, the obnoxious ringing louder now. "I believe it was your phone, Y/N," Chris said, waving the device in front of your face.
You groaned, hitting yourself on the forehead with the heel of your hand, "Sorry guys," you apologized to the crew that you just yelled at for no good reason.
You reached your hand out for the phone, looking at the caller ID. You didn't recognize the number, but the it was from Austin, Texas. Your home town.
You don't know why you did it. You figured it was just anther telemarketer, but you slid the green answer button, accepting the call. "Hello?"
"Hello, is this Y/F/N Y/L/N?" a masculine sounding voice answered.
Confused, you carried on with the conversation. "This is she," you said. "What can I do for you?"
The man on the other line sighed heavily. "My name is Dr. William Corden from Austin State Hospital," he said. “I’m sorry miss,” your heart raced in your chest; it was never good when someone started a conversation by apologizing, “But we need you to come down here.”
Your voice and your hands were unsteady, and you felt as if you were going to vomit as you tried your best not to cry, “Why would I need to do that?” You feared the worst, and prayed that he didn’t say what you feared.
“We need you to identify the body of Matthew Y/L/N,” he said.
"No," you shook your head vigorously. "No, you're lying, you're-" your vision blurred as the tears threatening to spill over not only poured down your face, but consumed you as your entire world shook and shattered around you as you slid out of the chair and fell to your knees.
“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?” You heard your name being called repeatedly off to the side. Your entire body wracked with sobs, your hand covering your mouth, as if it would help muffle the sounds. You heard someone call your name again, but you were too far in your own little world to comprehend.
"I'm sorry, miss," the doctor said, "But I'm afraid that you have to be the one to do this. You're his only listed emergency contact."
You sniffed loudly, trying to compose yourself, “O-okay, I work in Vancouver. I’ll be there in a few days,” you replied and pressed the end call button numbly.
“Y/N,” Jensen called your name softly.
You ignored him, trying to control your shaking hands as you found your brother's name in your contacts.
You held the phone to your ear as the monotonous ringing sounded. “C’mon,” you muttered, “Please Matthew.“
Eventually, the ringing stopped. Matthew had never once missed any of your calls. You sobbed loudly, your body wrenching forward with the force of it, and you dialed again. The call went unanswered, eventually going to voicemail. You hung up and threw your phone across set, shattering the device into multiple pieces as it came in contact with the concrete wall. Your breaths came in hiccups, thoughts of your baby brother plaguing your mind. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating you as you remembered practically everything about your brother. The face that he always pulled when he was lying. The times that you and him would drive around in your car with no destination at all. The stupid things he did just to get you to laugh. How he would purposely fall at random times, tell corny jokes that were bound to get you laughing for a good few minutes, and the voices and imitations he would do about annoying people in the stores your mother dragged you to when you were younger.
“No! Please, Matthew!”
“Y/N!” someone yelled out to you. “What happened?” Their voice sounded far away and garbled. It was almost like there were cotton balls stuffed in your ears.
The memories of your younger brother flitted around in your mind, taunting you. You drew your knees up to your chest, burying your face in them. You would never get to hear his laugh, see his smile, see the awkward teenager that still lived inside his body even though he was over thirty. You wouldn’t be able to wrap your arms around his skinny frame when he needed to be held up, or you just needed a hug. You would never get to see your best friend ever again.
You were hyperventilating, and people were calling out to you trying to get through to you, but all you could see was your brother and his smile slowly fading from your mind.
It was getting harder to draw oxygen into your lungs. Harder to expel the carbon dioxide. You couldn't breathe. Your heart rate sped up, your hands finding their way to your hair, tugging harshly, trying to feel anything besides the overwhelming sense of fear and despair.
"Y/N!" One voice pierced through your haze. You felt two strong arms pull you into a warm chest.
You let the person hold you as you moved your hands from your hair to clutch their shirt, probably ruining it with your tears and mascara.
The person's arms wrapped around your entire body, somehow helping you block out the entire world. "Y/N, breathe," the person instructed.
You listened to the person, taking deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. The person started rubbing circles on your back, helping you through the panic attack you were experiencing. Eventually, your body relaxed from the fetal position you were in and your arms wrapped around the person's torso. Your breathing evened out, your heart stopped racing, and you could hear clearly.
"Hey, let it all out, it's okay," the voice you now recognized as Misha said in your ear. "What happened, Y/N?" Misha asked carefully.
You shook your head. If you said it out loud it'd become real. You didn't want it to be real.
"Y/N," Misha said again, "What happened, sweetheart?"
You took a deep breath, your lungs burning with the relief of getting proper oxygen. "Matthew is dead," you choked on a sob.
Misha lifted a hand and ran it down his face. He knew how much you loved your brother. His death would take years for you to get over. "Okay," Misha said in your ear. "Let's get you out of here."
You tried to stand up on your own, but Misha's arms went around your torso and under your legs, lifting you with ease.
"Call Eric, please. Tell him that we need to postpone shooting for a little while," Misha said to Jensen as he carried you off set and to your trailer.
You cried the entire time Misha carried you, tears constantly pouring down your face. You sniffed multiple times, your nose becoming congested, making you feel a headache start to form.
Once Misha got to your trailer, he found it unlocked. He swung the door open with little difficulty, and carried you to your bed. Misha started to walk away, trying to give you your privacy. "Stay, please," your broken and cracked voice instantly had an effect on Misha as he took off his shoes and crawled under the blankets with you.
You burrowed your face into his chest yet again.
You wanted to cry some more, scream at the top of your lungs even, but you had no more tears to shed, and all of your energy was spent. Soon enough, you were snoring lightly as Misha rubbed soothing circles in your back.
Misha was warm and comfortable with you in his arms, and he too fell asleep rather quickly.
Almost an hour later, a sharp knock at the trailer door startled Misha awake. He looked over at you, sighing a breath of relief as he saw that you were still sound asleep.
Misha slid out from under you, but your eyes fluttered slightly like you were about to wake up. Acting quickly, Misha replaced his spot with a pillow. You wrapped your arms around the pillow tightly, falling back to sleep.
Misha padded silently down the length of the trailer, opening the creaky door slowly.
Misha was surprised to see his boss, Eric Kripke standing on the other side.
Misha hoped that he wasn't about to be berated as he stepped outside to talk to the man.
"How's she holding up?" Eric asked, a note of genuine concern in his voice.
"She passed out from crying so much. She's devastated."
Eric sighed, "She doesn't deserve this," he said.
"I couldn't agree with you more," Misha said. "I just want you to know that I'm going to be staying with her for a little while. She's going to need someone to help her get through this."
Eric nodded, "Which brings me to the reason why I'm here. I want you and Y/N to know that you guys can take as long as you need, I understand that this is something that isn't going to get better in a few days. I'm sure the fans and the people at CW will understand too."
Misha let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "Thank you, Eric."
Eric only smiled before turning away and walking towards set, probably to tell the rest of the cast and crew what had happened.
Feeling better about the whole situation, Misha turned on his heels, making his way back into your trailer.
Misha was surprised to find that you weren't in your bed or on the couch, but in the bathroom judging by the light coming from under the bathroom door. He sat on the edge of your bed, patiently waiting for you to return.
He didn't have to wait long; you came out of the bathroom less than two minutes later. You had washed the ruined makeup off your face and threw your hair up. Your eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, your face pale.
You hadn't noticed Misha's presence yet, so Misha greeted you with a soft, "Hey," which scared you slightly.
"Jesus, Mish," you said with your hand over your heart.
"How are you holding up?" Misha asked.
You sniffed and Misha could see the tears forming in your eyes, "I just lost my baby brother," you said. "I'm in pain, Mish."
Misha stood and made his way over to you, "I'm so sorry that this happened to you, Y/N."
Without a second thought, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Misha's abdomen, nuzzling your face in his chest, "I don't know how to do this, Misha," you choked out.
Misha kissed the top of your head and rubbed circles in your back. "You won't be doing it alone Y/N. I'll be with you the entire time," he said.
"They need me to go to Austin and identify his body," you said slowly. The words still didn't sound right to you.
Misha knew that seeing your baby brother's body would nearly kill you. "Then I'm coming with you," he said.
You looked up from his, yet again tear stained, button up shirt, "I can't ask you to do that," you said.
Misha looked at your red-rimmed and puffy eyes, "You didn't ask. I'm offering, and there's no way for you to say no. I'm coming with you whether you like it or not."
You nodded and buried your face in Misha's shirt again, breathing in the scent of him. "Thank you."
You packed a small duffel bag with a few essentials while Misha went to his trailer to pack the things he would need for his impromptu trip.
You had a small apartment in Austin that you lived in whilst on hiatus, so you didn't need to pack very much.
You sat in your trailer after Misha had left, wondering what was going to happen when you got to Austin. You very much didn't want to ID your brother. You didn't want to arrange a funeral that only you would be attending.
Twenty minutes after he had left, Misha came back in to your trailer, lugging a suitcase behind him. "You ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
Misha led the way out of the trailer, almost running right into Jensen. "Whoa there," Jensen said, taking a step away from Misha as he burst through the door.
"Shit, sorry man," Misha apologized to his best friend.
"Don't worry about it," Jensen said. "I just wanted to say goodbye to you guys, and to have a safe trip," Jensen said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him, "Thank you, Jay."
Jensen gave you a quick hug in return, "You're welcome, Y/N."
Misha and Jensen said their goodbyes, and the two of you went to the parking lot where Clif was waiting to take the two of you to the airport. The entire ride there was silent with only he radio playing the classic rock station in the background.
You watched the scenery of Vancouver pass by. You didn’t think about anything, you only watched as the houses got closer and closer together, and you passed more cars on the road.
The ride to the airport flew by, and soon enough, you found yourself saying goodbye to Clif.
Once you and Misha got your luggage from the back of the car, you went over to the front desk and purchased two tickets on the earliest flight to Austin.
As your luck would have it, the plane was set for boarding in only a matter of 20 minutes, which gave you and Misha time to do anything necessary before boarding the plane.
Twenty minutes later, and you were situated at a window seat with Misha on your left.
You always hated airplanes. They were too big, too loud, and you were afraid that they would fall from the sky at any minute.
After the monstrosity that was take off, your exhaustion hit you again like a freight train.
You yawned and your eyelids became heavy.
Misha glanced over at you as you nodded off to sleep. He pulled you by the shoulder, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck. Misha sat deeper in his seat and rested his head on yours, getting comfortable. He knew the flight was going to be long, so he tried his best to sleep for some of it. Only sleep never came, and he sat staring at the back of the seat in front of him for the entire flight. He was absorbed in his own thoughts. Misha had never met your brother in person, but he knew from the stories you told about him that he was a good person. You always talked about your brother in the most positive way. You had put him on a pedestal high above everyone else. You talked about him like he was your hero, the greatest person on the planet. You loved that boy with all your heart. And now, he was dead, and you were crushed.
Misha looked down at your peacefully sleeping face. You were adorable when you slept. Misha loved you more than you could ever know, but he was too much of a wuss to admit his feelings for you. Something Jensen and Jared greatly enjoyed teasing him about.
For the entire hour plane ride, you slept on Misha's shoulder. Misha move a muscle, knowing that the events of the day had worn you out.
When there was only five minutes before landing, Misha shook your shoulder gently, "Y/N," he said, "We're here."
You looked around, confused to be sitting on a plane. It took a moment for reality to sink in, but once it did, it hit you hard.
"Misha," you whispered, "My brother..." you couldn't even finish your sentence, afraid of the answer.
"It wasn't a dream, Y/N. I'm sorry," he said with an apologetic look.
You swallowed thickly, "That's what I was afraid of."
The plane landed, and Misha lead you off with his hand on the small of your back, guiding you forward.
While you waited at luggage return, you looked around. You hadn't been back in Austin in a long time. You just wished you were coming back under better circumstances.
Once your luggage came around, you picked it up and rushed outside to catch a cab. Luckily, there was one still open, which you and Misha slid into.
"Where to?" the older driver asked.
"Austin State Hospital," you squeaked.
The driver looked at you in the rear view mirror, a look of pity etched across his face. He didn't say anything though. He just turned his attention to the road and pressed his foot to the gas.
It took quite a long time to get to the hospital; there was so much traffic, but once you and Misha stepped out of the cab, and it pulled away from the curb, you wished that you had never arrived.
You looked up at the tall building. Somewhere inside this very building, you thought, my brother's body is sitting.
You looked up at Misha. He was already looking at you, "Are you ready to do this?" he asked.
You shook your head, "I don't want to see my dead brother, Misha."
Misha took your hand. "I will be here the whole time if you need me."
You took a deep breath, and took a wobbly step, your legs felt like jello. You took another step, and then another, right to the nurse's desk at the front.
"What can I do for you?" a male nurse in cartoon character scrubs asked you.
You swallowed back your tears, "I was- um..." you fumbled over your own words. "I was called in to identify a body."
The nurse took on a softer tone. "Who's body are you supposed to be identifying?" he asked.
"Matthew Y/L/N."
The nurse tapped away at the keyboard for a few moments, "Okay, you can just sit over there for a few minutes. Someone from the morgue will be here to guide you."
You and Misha walked over to the chairs the nurse gestured to and took a seat.
Your leg bounced up and down rapidly, your stomach was in knots, and a lump was forming in the back of your throat.
It seemed like only a matter of seconds before a man was making his way over to you, but in reality it was almost fifteen minutes you were waiting. He was dressed in teal scrubs, a metal framed pair of glasses sat perched on his long nose. He looked to be about 50, his hair only slightly gray.
"Are you Y/N Y/L/N?" he asked you,
You nodded and stood with your right hand outstretched, "That would be me," you said as you shook hands with the man.
"Is this your boyfriend?" he asked.
You looked down to your intertwined hands, "Oh, no. He's just... He's here for moral support," you explained.
Misha extended his right hand, "Misha Collins."
The doctor took Misha's hand in a handshake, "I'm Dr. Corden. But you can just call me William," he said.
You nodded slightly.
"If you could follow me," William said, turning on his heel and walking briskly towards a set of double wooded doors.
He led you down a few flights of stairs, multiple hallways, and through a few doors.
You could feel yourself start to tremble, so you fumbled blindly for Misha's hand.
Once you found it, your fingers slipped through his perfectly, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly.
Finally William led you to a metal door with a plaque on it. 'Morgue' it read.
You took a deep breath to steady your pounding heart.
Misha's hand left yours and his arm settled around your waist.
William pushed open the door and led the two of you inside.
The entire room reeked of antiseptic. You could practically see your reflection in the floor, your shoes squeaking on the polished tiles. The silver drawers containing the bodies were just like the ones you've seen in the movies. Except now, they were even more daunting.
William came to a stop in front of one of the drawers. On the front there was a card holder with your brother's name on it.
"I'm going to warn you," William said. "What you're going to see is gruesome. It was a bullet would to the temple. I can assure you, however, that he didn't feel any pain. He chose a good place to shoot. Anywhere else would've caused him tremendous pain."
Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Your palms started sweating profusely. You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice.
William took a deep breath and unlocked the door. He pulled out the tray holding the body.
What you saw literally punched the breath from your lungs.
The reality of the situation finally sunk in. Your brother was dead.
His face was pale and slightly blue due to lack of oxygen.
You looked at his face, his arms, his shoulders, and the small part of his chest that was not covered by the white sheet.
"Ma'am," William said. "Is this your brother?"
Tears poured down your cheeks as you nodded.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I need a verbal answer."
You took a deep shuddering breath, "Yes, this is my brother," you sobbed loudly and turned into Misha's side, fisting the cotton shirt he wore.
"Could you give us a minute?" You heard Misha's deep voice rumble.
You didn't see William nod, but you heard the door shut behind him, and you let the sobs consume your body.
Misha wrapped his other arm around you and rested his chin on your head. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he said.
You moved your arms, your hands clawing at his shoulder blades.
Misha felt it was as if you were trying to claw your way inside his body.
You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself before you turned around to face your brother's body again.
You laid your hand on the tattoo on his clavicle. It was a bird. A dove, to be exact. Matthew had gotten it right after you landed the directing job on Supernatural. "Now my little birdie will always be with me," he said when he revealed it to you.
You looked at your brother's face. The mole that was under his right eye, the acne scars littering his nose and under eyes. You would never get to see your brother ever again, so you were trying your best to memorize every detail you could.
The bullet wound in his head was stitched up, but it still looked gnarly.
You bent down and laid a kiss on his forehead. "Say hi to mom and dad for me, Matt," you whispered to him.
You heard a tiny sniffle. You turned around to see Misha trying to wipe the tears off of his face.
"Thank you for being here," you said to him.
"Anything for you, Y/N," he replied.
After you thanked William for his time, Misha called a cab and helped you back outside.
You were silent the entire way back to your apartment besides giving the cab driver your address.
You lived on the fourteenth floor, so the two of you took an empty elevator up to your floor. You were thankful that no one else entered the elevator. You were a mess and strangers didn't need to see you like this.
You pulled your keys out of your pocket, unlocking your front door and shoving it open.
"Uhm..." you fumbled for the right words, "Kitchen is in there," you said pointing to the doorway leading to the kitchen, "Help yourself to anything I have. It isn't much though because I don't spend much time here. Bathroom is down the hallway, first door on the left. my bedroom is the second door on the right. You can sleep there for tonight. I'll take the couch," you rushed the words out.
Misha listened to every word you said, setting his suitcase on the floor by your dining room table. "I'll take the couch, Y/N," he said. "I'm not going to make you give up your own bed."
You rolled your eyes at his response.
You ran a hand down your face, a thought running across your mind, "I'm going to need to arrange a funeral for him," you said.
Misha took your hand and led you to your couch, "Who should I call?"
Two excruciating hours later, you had made arrangements with the nearest funeral home, cemetery, and the hospital.
"Is there anyone you want to invite?" Misha asked carefully.
You shook your head, "My parents are dead, we don't talk to my family members; they hate us. And Matt didn't really have any friends. He lived alone and was in between jobs."
"So it's just going to be you and me?" He clarified.
"I guess so."
Misha never left your side for the entire week.
He helped you shop for groceries, even paying for them, despite your protests. He held you when you cried. He stayed with you at night, helping to keep the nightmares away. He helped plan the funeral. He was your rock. The only light you were able to see in the dark time.
With every passing day, you fell deeper and deeper in love with him.
You would be sitting on the couch, watching a movie with him, and look up to see him laugh. The way that his eyes crinkled around the edges, and he smiled widely. You'd be laying in your bed with him after you had a nightmare. He'd have his arms around you, holding you and letting you cry. He'd be making dinner for you in a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt. He'd be telling a stupid joke that he found somewhere, hoping to get you to laugh. Every single one of those scenarios was disgustingly domestic, but every single time, you had to restrain yourself from reaching up and kissing him, and thanking him for all he's doing for you.
But then you'd realize that Misha was here because he pitied you. He wasn't looking for a relationship. He was just here to help you through the tough time, then he'd be out of your apartment and back to his in Vancouver.
You had the funeral scheduled for a Sunday. It was the only available time that the funeral and cemetery had. You were dressed in a knee length black dress, a black cardigan on your shoulders, and black ballet flats on your feet. Misha was in a pair of black slacks, a white button down shirt and a black suit jacket. He looked good to say the least.
"Thank you for doing this with me," you said as you made your way downstairs to your car.
"I wasn't going to let you do this alone," Misha said, squeezing your hand.
You gave him a small smile before leading him to the parking garage. You found your car rather quickly and slid in, starting the engine.
Both of you were silent as you made the short journey to the funeral home. You were confused when you pulled into the parking lot. It was almost impossible to find a parking space with how many cars were already parked.
"They did say two, right?" You asked Misha as you finally found a place to park your car.
Misha looked just as confused as you, "Yeah. They did."
You grabbed your phone and took the keys out of the ignition, getting out of the car and making your way to the front doors.
When you opened the door, you almost broke down right then.
Inside of the funeral home, stood every single cast and crew member. Your hand flew to your mouth as you gasped in surprise. "Right, I forgot to tell you that I invited a few of your friends," Misha said in your ear.
Jensen and Jared were standing at the front of the group, matching suits and stances. They wore nearly the same get up at Misha, and stood with their hands in their pockets.
You rushed forward, enveloping both of the giant men in a hug, "Thank you for coming here," you said to them.
"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Jared said. You knew that he was speaking for everyone in the room when he said that.
You had managed to thank almost everyone for coming, breaking down into tears on more than one occasion because of how supportive the Supernatural family is.
After the viewing, everyone made their way to the cemetery where Matthew's body was laid to rest right next to your parents.
You cried the entire time, tears slowly making their way down your face as they carried Matthew's casket over to the six foot hole, and lowered his body down.
Everyone gave you a hug and whispered words of condolences in your ear before they left. Jensen and Jared promised to check back in on you within the next few days, and you asked them to say hello to their families for you.
After everyone except for Misha had left, you were still seated in the front row, staring at your brother's fresh grave.
Misha made his way over to you, sitting down in the chair next to yours. You quickly turned your head and buried it in Misha's neck. His arm came across your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. "Why did he have to die?" you asked Misha.
In that moment, Misha felt his heart shatter. He brought his other arm around you, practically dragging you into his lap. "I can't give you an answer, honey," Misha said into your hair.
"He wanted to do things in life," you said. "He wanted to be a photographer. Go to Germany and France and Italy. He wanted to go on adventures and live life," you said.
Misha laid a kiss on your head, "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure," Misha said.
You giggled slightly, making Misha's heart soar. "Did you just quote Harry Potter?"
Misha laughed, "It was appropriate."
You lifted your head, "Thank you for being here, Misha."
Misha tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, "There's no place I'd rather be," he said quietly.
Your breath caught in your throat, Misha's face was getting closer, his breath was mingling with yours, a mere millimeter away from your lips he said, "Tell me to stop, and I will."
"Don't," you said, crashing your lips to his.
The past week was nowhere near perfect. You were your lowest point. There were times when you didn't want to keep breathing. But Misha was there for it all. He kept you grounded. He helped you through your loss, and you knew that he was going to be there for you no matter what.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Misha grasps your cold hand.
You nod and grimace as the needle touches your skin.
Three hours later, the intricate pattern is permanently etched into your skin.
“I see you took my advice,” Misha said from behind you. “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure,” he read the words on your collarbone.
The words were surrounded by three small doves. One for your mom, one for your dad, and one for your brother. "Now my little birdie will always be with me," you said to yourself, your finger tracing the black ink.
You looked over your shoulder at Misha, “Thank you,” you whispered. "For being with me and staying by my side."
Misha turned you around and embraced you, being careful of your tattoo.
"You're really strong, you know that?"
You blushed, "Shut up."
Misha pecked your lips and rolled his eyes, "I'm being serious."
You giggled lightly, "Whatever you say, babe."
There would be days that you really missed your brother. Days when you didn't even want to get out of bed because of how guilty you felt that you were still alive, and he wasn't. For those days, Misha was right at your side, reminding you to drink water and eat food. He whispered words of love in your ear, reminding you that you were not alone.
Some of the best days of your life were also the worst because your brother wasn't there to celebrate with you. When you directed your very first movie. When you moved in with Misha and he proposed. When you were married to the love of your life. When you were bringing your son into the world. "Can we name his Matthew?" you asked your husband. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said with a kiss to your sweaty forehead.
You would have good days and bad days. Days where you missed your brother more than anything, and wished to see him one last time. There would be days when you would remember your brother, and days where you would tell stories of him to your kids, a note of pride and happiness in your voice.
You would have your ups in downs, but the one constant thing that you could always count on was Misha's love for you.
That was all you needed.
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About: When Dean buts into the Readers sex life she cant stop thinking about Cas. When she sees Cas, they both share a small intimate moment.
Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Dirty Thoughts, Fantasizing, Blood and Gore
A/N: If you know a Cas/Misha lover tag them below!
A/N 2: Request close in under 12 hours. 11.59 USA Central time! Send me those pictures or gifs or songs and what you want in it.
Forever Tag List: @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @magssteenkamp @elansaidaris @hobby27 @squirrelnotsam @440mxs-wife
*18+ CONTENT. YOUNGER THAN 18 MUST MOVE ON
**DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND WITHOUT GIVING ME THE PROPER CREDIT. I WORK TOO HARD ON THESE STORIES FOR THEM TO BE STOLEN.
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"We need to get you laid?" Dean says walking into the bunker and tossing his bag onto the table. I choke on whatever saliva I have in my mouth. "See right there! That would have been perfect if it were around some poor guys dick."
"Shut up," Both Sam and I say. "I do not need to be picturing myself giving some awful head right now." I continue. Sam flops into the chair closest to him. "Especially looking like I do. I'm sure I have Vamp guts on me." Our vampire hunt almost went south until Dean realized he had packed the freaking grenade launcher. When he shot it, vampire guts and body parts flew everywhere. "And stay out of my sex life unless you want me all up in yours Mister Right Now."
"Fuck you," Dean says making a face. He hates when I call him that when he buts into my non existent sex life.
"Oh, honey, I already do," I blew a kiss towards him. Sam is passed out and has missed the whole thing.
I make my way towards the bathroom. I've been with the boys for maybe six months. Both have tried making moves on me but they both failed. I didn't see them like that. They were more like brothers to me. Really, really annoying brothers who bickered almost all the damn time. I really have eyes for one person and that Castiel, our angel friend.
Once in the bathroom. I turn shower all the way on hot. Why? Well after this hunt, I feel the need to burn my skin to get all the vampire guts off me. I turn to the mirror and see that the damage is far, far worse than I imagined. Small chunks of vampire are stuck in my hair. Pieces of skin are stuck of my face. Dried blood is just about everywhere. "I guess that's what happened when I'm in the the splash zone," I begin to slip out of my clothes.
I carefully get into the shower and start to scrub my body, hair, and hard to get places. I want the smell and sign of it all off me. Once I am satisfied with my wash, I sit on the shower floor and just let the water run all over me.
I lean back and close my eyes and think of all the things I like about Cas. His eyes for one. The shade of blue always makes you want to drown in them. Then his smile when he was genuinely happy. That smile was always so rare to see and it always makes my knees weak. Then there was the way he talked and was always confused about certain things. The way he says hello to me and looks at me as if he's trying to read my mind. Well, maybe he can since he's an angel and all, I think to myself.
Then I start to think about the dirty stuff. I think of how those hands would feel on my skin. His voice in my ear. His body wrapped around mine. I bite my lip just thinking where it all could go. But I doubt it. Cas is an angel. I just want him so bad, I don't sleep or flirt with anyone at a bar of a town we roll through.
I sigh and turn the water off and get out of the shower. I look in the mirror to find I was squeaky clean minus the few cuts and scraps I got from being thrown around. I even start to see a few bruises starting to form. Oh well, I think, I've seen hotter days. I wrap the towel around me and waltz out of the bathroom without a care in the world. I run into something or someone and that someone balanced me on my feet and held me back. I feel my face start to burn when I feel the familiar gentle hands and see the beige trench coat.
"I was just coming to check in on you."
Cas's voice threw me for a spin and put me in a trance. I begin to envision me dropping my towel and jumping him. I picture slamming my lips to his and him backing me up onto a wall ripping the towel away.
"YN," Cas's voice also snaps me out my trance. "
"What?" I ask shaking my head.
"I asked if you were okay." Cas says. "You have some scrapes and bruises. Will you like it if I healed them?"
I smile. "Yeah," Damn my stupid day dream. I watch as Cas presses two fingers to my head and I close my eyes and sigh. I feel all the aching in my body fade out and disappear for good. Well, until the next time I need to be healed.
Cas pulls back his hand and I see a confused look on his face. "What?" I ask. "Do I still have blood or something in my hair?" I use my free hand to ruffle my hair around.
"No," Cas grabs my hand and I instantly feel my face turn red. I look away. "I never realized I had such an effect on you. I mean, I cannot hear your thoughts but, I can pick up on emotions. Yours are screaming whenever I am around you. I never knew until now."
I feel my face get hotter. I gently pull my hand away and turn away. "I gotta get dressed."
I hurry to my room and throw clothes on and sit on my bed. What the hell just happened? I toss over and bury my face in my pillow. Cas can't read my mind? But can read my flipping emotions? And they're screaming? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I scream into the pillow until I need to lift my head up to breath. I feel like a teenage school girl whose crush finally found out I like them.
I sit up and stare at the ground until I hear a knock on my door. I take a deep breath and compose myself. I get up and answer the door to see Cas standing there. Hes looking to the side and I follow his gaze and see Dean poking his head around the corner. He's giving okay and thumbs up hand signals. Dean sees me and stops and disappears. I sigh and let Cas in and close the door.
"I'm assuming Dean has something to do with this?" I ask watching Cas look around my room. It's the cleanest but, it also doesn't look like Deans.
Cas nods and looks back at me. "Yes, I inquired about your emotions I feel each time I am around you. He says that you might have what you humans call a crush on me. But I do not understand why you would want to crush me?" I cover my mouth and laugh. "What is so funny?"
I walk up to the confused angel with a smile on my face. "Cas," I say taking hold of his trench coat and I fiddle with the button closest to my fingers. "I don't want to crush you." I giggle again. "What Dean means is, I like you more than as a friend." I contemplate kicking Deans ass for telling Cas I have a crush on him.
"What is more than a friend?" Cas ask looking deep in your eyes.
I take a deep breath because I know he will still be confused. I let go of his coat and take hold of his face. I reach my face up to his and gently kiss his lips. His lips are chapped but I didn't care. I feel Cas's hand on my face and he pulls back slowly. I'm confused by the look he gives me. Shock? Weird? Surprised?
"I see now," He says keeping his hands on my face. His thumbs brush my cheeks and I'm not sure if he knew he was doing that. "I think I, too, have a crush on you and like you more than as a friend." I smile and Cas pulls my face back to his and this time, this kiss is deeper and full of longing.
Cas's hands slide down to my hips and walks me back towards the dresser. He effortlessly picks me up and sits me on top of it. I hear him shrug off his coat and toss it to the side without breaking the kiss. I begin to reach for the button of his pants. Then out of know where there is a soft sliding sound.
"I'm slipping some condoms under the door for you guys," Deans voice is heard from the other side. "I mean, I don't know how strong they have to be for an angel but these are the thick kind that don't bust."
"Oh for fucks sake," Sams voice is also heard. "Leave the two of them alone."
By now, Cas has pulled apart and has gotten his coat back on. I still sit on the dresser contemplating on kicking Deans ass still. Cas walks up to me and helps me off the dresser. "I still feel your emotions are screaming maybe this can settle them until we get the proper alone time. You know, so that I can get my hard angelic dick deep inside you." Cas softly presses his lips to mine for a few seconds before leaving the room.
Such talk coming from an angel had me turned on in ways I couldn't describe. Until next time.
